It’s hard to imagine what a place you can’t imagine will be like. Myanmar? Burma? Yangon, Yangoon, Rangoon? In a long line of former British colonies, Burma has only had independence since 1948. Yangon has many colonial buildings some in good condition and others crumbling. Grand hotels and dilapidated apartment buildings. There is intense poverty here, and a great disparity between the have and have nots. It is also an intensely colorful city and the people are warm, friendly and helpful. We spent a day visiting markets, the Sule Pagoda, and spent time in Independence Park talking with students and locals. We even managed to get a catch in! Atticus purchased a longyi, the traditional item of clothing for men in Burma. There was a bit of a learning curve on how to get it tied/to stay up. Several friendly locals volunteered their services each time they spotted us trying to wrangle the thing. While playing catch, the longyi decided to unravel much to the delight of the little kid we were playing with and several dozen onlookers. There was Atty in his candy cane striped boxer briefs for the whole world to see and enjoy. Apparently this is how you make friends in Burma, because we ended up chatting with several families and groups of kids after that. This is not a place too many western foreigners visit and there was also a desire to practice their English and learn what we were doing there. 

Megan was on call for most of this port, but it was an eventful one in terms of medical. More on that later…

The kids and I flew with a group to Heho in the Shan state. It services the area around Inle Lake and Kalaw. Airport security is a little more relaxed in Myanmar. I am not sure the screener actually looked up from checking his texts to see what was in the bags. When we saw the plane we figured it was because you had a 50/50 chance of either dying from someone blowing up the plane or the plane going down just because. And I thought, well, you never really hear about plane crashes in Myanmar, and then followed that with the realization that the internet is so slow here that if anyone had bothered to try and post news about a plane crash they just gave up because it took too long to upload. It really wasn’t all that bad, especially compared to the food on the flight. 

The area we went to is considered the “breadbasket” of Burma. They grow the majority of the nation’s food and apparently all of the opium. I didn’t see any poppies, so maybe that was in a different part of the region. My understanding is that opium fields come along with guys protecting their investment, so I was glad we missed that part. They also produce several wines.

Our first stop was a 500 year old village called Myin Ka. It means dancing horse in the Burmese language. It was a farming town whose water source is a spring up in the hills and the surrounding land is lush and rich with colorful plants and flowers in addition to the terraced fields. Much to my surprise, but maybe not the town’s, we crashed an in progress wedding. The whole village was there eating, cooking, drinking, smoking, chatting and chewing betel vine leaf and all the fixings. That stuff does wonders to the teeth. 

I saw smoke which I hoped was a BBQ so I went over to see what the deal was. The catering crew was just making soup and other things I didn’t recognize in huge pots over open fire. They gave us some tea, both to drink and eat/chew on, and then the Burmese cigars came out… I will continue this story for friends and family upon request. 

We then hiked about a mile up the hill to a field/patch of flat earth with the town’s mayor, who I guess owned this land, and he handed us hoes and showed us how to create the rows for planting, etc. We did a couple of hours of dirt clod smashing, row making, planting and watering broccoli seeds. We watered it with water from a special pond where they make dengue fever mosquitos for distribution into the greater metro area. 

Onto harvesting buckwheat! Who knew this is what buckwheat looked like. It’s a lot of work for the 4-5 small seeds inside that are used for making oil and bread. 

We stayed in a small town called Kalaw, a former British mountain retreat. Oddly, it looked a lot like Chester, Ca. near Mt. Lassen. I didn’t expect to see pine trees in Burma, but there they were. Mornings were just what you want Burma to look like. Light fog hanging low, smoke from fires starting the day’s cooking, unfamiliar trees dotting the ridge, and the sounds of birds, young Buddhist monks stirring at the monastery next door and the sounds of Muslim call to prayer. This mix of ethnicities and religions was seen everywhere we went and it added significantly to the country’s appeal and helped us understand the fabric of this nation.

The following morning we took an insane bus ride to the spot where we started a hike down through the jungle to the Green Hill Valley Elephant Conservation Camp. The terrain was an interesting mix of banana trees, bamboo, teak, ironwood, tropical plants and bare deciduous trees. 

The camp itself is a rustic but well appointed center that has 6 “rescued” elephants ranging in age from 11-55 years old. Each has a “mahout” who is that specific elephant’s caretaker and trainer. They are given daily positive reinforcement training, so that when it’s time to trim their nails, tend to their feet, give vaccinations or other care, they are compliant. They eat 200 kilos of food each day, which takes roughly 16 hours, and are taken to the river twice a day for baths, to drink and cool down. They eat sweet pumpkin and slices of banana stalk sometimes accompanied by wheat bran. It was amazing to be able to place food right into their open mouths and into their trunks, and interact with them so up close and personally. They are quite playful and each had a distinct personality. Atty got along and played food games with the 11 year old male. 

We spent time with the patriarch and founder of this family organization in the vet clinic and browsed each elephant’s notebook/chart and learned about their daily, weekly and monthly care routines and check-ups. 

Dinner that night was a at local recommended Shan noodle spot. This is my new favorite food! Sticky rice noodles cooked with cilantro with a bit of sweet soya, sugar, salt, tomato based meat ragout, chilis, peanuts and a few spoonfuls of broth. I stopped off at the ATM in town for some extra cash, thinking that we’d need it for our special dinner out. Total bill for 3 meals and drinks? $4.80 U.S.! Some folks from our group opted for the nice “Italian” place in town. What did they get for their $60? Mediocre pizza and food poisoning! 

On the way to the airport we took a detour to visit the local market. It happens once a week and is a public holiday. It was like many markets in Asia, a departure from Whole Foods. 

Several folks were vomiting on the bus to the airport, and needed wheelchairs to get to the terminal, a charming rustic affair, with more lax security and interesting flight info presentations. My ticket had my name handwritten on it.

Our flight back was perhaps one of my most hilarious and harrowing experiences to date. 

Seated to my left was Hazel, a lovely traveling companion with an excellent sense of humor. To my right was a companion who told me he had a 40% chance of vomiting on flight. In front of him was a student who was so green that I gave her a rating of 110% chance of vomiting. We already had 4-5 kids who had already booted, and several others who were looking like 80% chance candidates. Well, with an ascent that made Captain Sully’s flight look like an exceptionally calm day on Lake Placid our odds tipped dramatically in the wrong direction. It was on. It got so comical at one point that several of us were in tears from laughing so hard. The line up for the bathroom was five deep, so people were just throwing up in the aisles, in bags, in their hands. It was coming and there was no stopping it. Travelers diarrhea and vomiting on a mass scale is not something I have ever seen or wish to again. Complete and utter insanity. 

Once we made it off the plane, which I am sure just had to be torched after we got off, we got on a bus. Now, most of the the buses have been just fine, but at the back of this one, the AC was dicey making the ambient temp around 80, and there was about 50 mosquitos buzzing around. So, after frantically coating ourselves in DEET, which would come in handy later for other reasons, we started off. Well, apparently one of our fellow travelers had not quite reached the pinnacle of his sickness adventure. This poor guy has his hoody on, was shaking and really giving the purge the old college try. As any parent or good friend knows, it’s one thing to see if from a distance or while passing by on the street, and another all together to be in ultra-close proximity. Again, my natural reaction for better or worse is to laugh. Laughter is contagious, and of course the more you try to rein it in, the more strength it gathers. 

About that DEET…normally we think it stinks, but let me assure you, it is a very effective counter measure against the smell of someone else’s vomit. Bonus! It honestly kept me from sharing my Shan noodles with the team. 

But wait! There’s more. Our sick traveler was so listless by the time we arrived back in port that he couldn’t stand on his own. Did I mention this is a full grown adult? Being the biggest guy on the trip, I helped get him of the bus, propping him up and scooting him along. The next issue was that the stairs/ramp to the gangway is a narrow, less than ultra-sturdy affair. With a crew member in front and me at the rear, we managed to lug him up and onto the ship and into a wheelchair and into the elevator down to the clinic on the third floor. His only words as we approached were “toilet”. I managed to get him up out of the chair and nudged him into the small bathroom. The nurse asked him if he needed to vomit. A simple negative shake of the head as he reached for the button on his shorts was my cue that my service was over and exit imminent. I saw him the next AM so I know he lived. 

Hazel spent her evening doing some vomiting of her own every hour on the hour from 9PM to 4AM. She thinks it was some fries she ordered and then ate later with that side of mayo. 

She did however rally and joined us on our trip into Yangon to visit different artisan neighborhoods. It was a unique look into the people and culture. I got interviewed for Myanmar TV. They said they would email me the clip so I will post if I ever get it. When our guide found out I was a musician/producer he invited me to see his own studio. I was expecting a recording space, but it was more of a rehearsal room, with super low ceilings and foam on the walls from stem to stern. He had a nice compliment of amps and guitars and his drums were tuned awesomely and sounded great. The power was off, so I shot some video of him with my phone using the flash for light. Of course Atticus forged cross cultural bonds via soccer with kids in each neighborhood we visited. 

Megan got to do this trip with us and I am sure she was glad to get off the ship for a day. It was her second trip off actually. She got to see the local hospital to retrieve a student who had rented a moped, lost control of it and hit a taxi, shattering her knee joint. Renting of motor vehicles is not permitted. This is the reason. Her voyage has come to an end. It may also be over for several of her mopedding companions. 

Hazel and Atticus are simply excellent travelers. No complaining, all-in, not afraid to engage with people who speak a different language or have different ways of doing things, and are excited to have new experiences, try unfamiliar foods and all of the rest of the things that go along with traveling. They are in a groove. It could really make or break the trip to have them be go with the flow or not and I am eternally grateful that they are flowing. 

In 5 days we will be in Cochin, India. Regrouping and planning for our next adventure.