This story begins in an unlikely place: an outdoor bath buffeted by strong winds off the Ariake Sea in the Amakusa Islands, Southern Japan. We must go back to early 2003, a spring day still fresh in my mind, the day itself full of accomplishments and the source of rich ideas and plans. That morning, I had run in the annual Amakusa Pearl Line Marathon, a 20km run across the five Pearls--the bridges of Amakusa. I ran the race and was whipped by Austin, another English teacher from Yamaga. My brother Joe was exempt from participation because of a recent basketabll-induced ankle sprain (even though sister Katie, visiting for 2 weeks, ran the 5km race). After the race, Joe, Austin and I relaxed our tattered bodies in the healing waters of the onsen and discussed the upcoming Golden Week vacation. We had about 12 days off and had the whole of Asia virtually at our fingertips. I don't claim to know the evolution of the idea, but we bagan to talk about going to Myanmar. Not many people we had known, in fact no one, had ever ventured to the country formerly known as Burma.
We chatted about it that day, our eyes glowing the the prospect of visiting a place so far away, both literally and figuratively. We knew very little at that point, only that it has had its problems with human rights, was not really on the tourist trail and was run by a military junta government. This was all the more appealing to young adventurers. Over the next few weeks, we talked about it more, but things just didn't work out. I don't really remember why, I think the flight was pretty expensive and the enthusiasm we had that day simply faded a bit. Regardless, Joe and I went on the have a legendary trip through the (allegedly) SARS-ravaged Vietnam that Golden Week.
Two years passed, Austin and Joe returned to their lives in America and I left Japan for more adventures in Southeast Asia. There were three countries I was certianly going to visit--Cambodia, Laos and Thailand. Other than that, I had my dreams if things worked out better than perfectly. Perhaps I would go to India or Nepal, maybe Indonesia or the Philipines. Then there was Myanmar. I kept a Myanmar Lonely PLanet travel book I had picked up somewhere in Japan and had it in my luggage the whole time. But I never really thought about opening it until I reached Southern Thailand. At every place I went to in the South, I was accompanied by thousands of other westerners. Scuba sites in Ko Tao, beaches and Full Mooning in Ko Phangan, the rainy Krabi, the breathtaking Ko Phi Phi and the farang filth and tourist purgatory of Patong Beach in Phuket. The day I walked around the foreigner haven of Patong, I decided. I walked into a tour agency and checked the prices for a plane ticket to Yangon, Myanmar. Hordes of people go to Thailand because it is easy, caters to foreigners and their dollar, and is a great place to party and do things you couldn't get away with normally. For these reasons among others, I was ready to leave. I felt I had to find something real, a culture unspoiled by western ideas and still plagued by problems of developing (or stagant, some might argue) nations.
To many people during my travels, I mentioned the prospect of Myanmar and recieved many inquisitive looks. "Myanamar?" they asked. "Burma...?" I replied. Does that ring a bell? I delighted in the prospect of going to a place most people didn't know the name of, let alone be able to find it on a map. (Can you?)
So after my trip to Kanchanaburi to wait for my visa, I was more than ready to go. What happened in Myanmar far exceeded my expectations. I hope I can accuratley convey my feelings about what I experienced in my regrettably short trip (one week)to Myanmar. I think it's gonna take a little more time to be able to do that.
Check back for part 2.
