Day 88: Today I Woke Up in Nyaungshwe, Myanmar.

Preface.

I was lucky enough to spend my teenage years in Athens in the 90’s while a certain kind of innocence was still present. The TV had just a handful of channels that operated just a few hours per day. As an only child I spent my time going through endless piles of books per year, drawing every Mickey Mouse magazine cover I would find. I learned how to bike by myself, I pet numerous stray cats and learned to love and appreciate their wild nature, I played with my neighborhood’s kids on the streets, and fell in love with the rock-n’-roll legends of the time, guess-singing their lyrics in broken English when nobody watched.

(The official post office in Hsi-Paw. I wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for the bright letter box in the front.)

Having this as my definition of innocence, arriving to Myanmar, the last country I visit solo on this trip, reminded me a lot of how much has been lost in the decades that came after the 90’s and how much I miss it. I saw kids running again on dusty roads playing with their dogs and free of fear, no TV in sight, people biking around the small streets hauling their goods in small carts behind them, yelling, almost singing to those waiting to buy from them. Myanmar, mostly due to the political turmoils it’s been through, some still going, seems to be gracefully stuck in the wheel of time. The only thing giving away that it’s almost 2020 in this country as in the rest of the world is the occasional smartphone seen mostly in younger people’s hands.

(The Goteik viaduct, the tallest bridge in Myanmar built in the beginning of the last century by the British Empire to help expand their influence in the area, while the parts used were shipped from the U.S..)

During my two and a half weeks in Myanmar and while following the main path of tourist interest – some tribes Myanmar are at war with each other and most of the beautiful parts of the country are inaccessible to foreigners – I saw no fast food chain’s neon lights calling to all tourists, not even a tourist shop, aka the bright colored stores that can be found in any major tourist town selling anything from jewelry to magnets and postcards to local art. 

(The Burmese flag sitting comfortably on top of an old shack and some plants.)

Stray dogs, motorbikes and old cars that had never had their emissions tested, all have created a street symbiosis resulting to zero roadkills. The local markets offer vegetables and fruits and everyday items for anyone to buy, along with clothing and shoes. I’ve never seen older looking trains than the ones I rode in Myanmar – I don’t doubt though that they exist and operate somewhere on this planet – and although the buses are in good condition, the roads are not, making long distance traveling even longer. I learned that the Burmese people believe that offering water to a stranger grants them ten wishes – hence the presence of free drinking water literally everywhere – a superstition that was well received from every traveler I met.

(A tree growing on top of a pagoda, and a girl sitting at its base thinking how that came to be…)

It’s been a bit since I left a little piece of my heart somewhere along the road. After having some incredibly heartwarming experiences in Iran and spending two weeks in a little beach hostel on the beach in Paje, Zanzibar getting to know the locals, I thought I’ve become too spoiled to appreciate anything new. What I keep from Myanmar is this nostalgia reminding me of my childhood, stirring up memories that although I don’t visit often they’re always with me, shaping the ways I think and behave, always preserving that rock-n’-roll attitude in that heart of mine. Wherever you go, there you are, and Myanmar’s ambiance swung me right back into the 90’s, and back to my years of innocence. As much as I’d wish for this country to retain these parts that make it so beautiful to my eyes, I know that’s not possible. All I can hope for is for the traveler named Lina to keep meeting these reminiscing parts of mine, to keep reminding me of where I came from, and to keep bringing me back to who I really am.

(A golden pagoda and the setting Sun, two of Myanmar’s most treasured sights.)