Memories of Myanmar with Myths and Mountains

Some expected-many unexpected but all wonderful.

My husband and I entered Myanmar with trepidation knowing that only a month ago the government brutally cracked down on a demonstration by monks. We considered canceling or going elsewhere but wanted the experience of going to a country rich in culture and history without the excessive commercialization of the western world. We found it.

The largest city, Yangon is a bustling metropolitan area dotted with golden pagodas, the largest being Shwedagon Pagoda. Our guide gave us a background of the history of the country as well as an introductory lesson in Buddhism. The National Museum showcased relics from past civilizations through modern times and contemporary painters. Our guide's grandfather had paintings hanging in the museum which personalized the experience and added another memory.

Bagan is the city of 4,000 pagodas. We saw the oldest, the biggest and the "finest" along with many, many more. We climbed to the top of one pagoda for a "birds eye view" and the panorama was incredible - views in every direction. Our guide took us to the local market where we looked at (but did not taste!) various food products and even saw a basket full of live baby ducks. We concluded the day with a visit to the local lacquer factory and saw girls weaving bowls using horse hair and artisans carving figures freehand onto a wood surface, later to be used as a screen. What craftsmanship!

Our arrival at the hotel in Inle Lake was by boat - what an entrance! The scenery is spectacular and the culture surrounding the lake people is remarkable. They actually have complete villages and grow crops (tomatoes, cabbage, cucumbers, etc.) right on the water. Fishing is a mainstay and going to the local fish monger now has new meaning to me. The fish market is on the water and we watched the weighing, selling, and distribution of live fish right from our boat. We also observed the men fishing as they stood on one leg at the stern of the boat while working the nets with their hands and rowing with their other leg. That is balance that I can only dream of!

We visited other artisans; weaving by the "long neck" women of the Padaung Tribe, boat carvers, young boys refining raw silver into beautiful jewelry, but the most fascinating was a group of girls making cheroots, the local cigar. With quick, nimble fingers their hand were in constant motion as they rolled the tobacco (root and leaves, along with charcoal) and formed it into blunt-end cigars.

The "long neck" women of Padaung Tribe

There were many "firsts" for us on this trip, a walk through a bamboo forest, climbing ancient pagodas, observing a culture shaped by its environment and frozen in time. But the most memorable, was the ever-smiling faces and warmth of the local people.

By Karen Shapiro

From our China Adventures Blog

PEPPY GUIDES, GORGEOUS SCENERY, PENANCE

Off we go through the French Concession in search of Mom's
old house on Urumchi Lu. The map is a little off - the block
that is marked is completely encompassed by the American Consulate
on one side and the French on the other, so we continue one more
block and think we recognize things from a video she showed us.
It's a bit of a treasure hunt: "there's a red brick house on one
side of the street, and then we lived across the street in a Spanish
style stucco one". Aha. There is only one brick house on this street,
and across from it is the stucco house, which is now 8 apartments,
tiny little warrens. I pull out my best Mandarin sentence, which is
wildly misunderstood, and soon we are surrounded by a dozen people,
all gesturing and trying to make sense of things. They finally
understand "my mother lived here", but think when I right down
"1930"s that this is the address I want. Aieeee! Finally some nice
young men who speak English stroll by and clear things up for us.
Everyone is very happy and smiles, and they suggest we go to the
police station to see if they have old records, which they don't.
But we make friends with the young men who take us there,
who have just finished graduate studies in water engineering, and
are big fans of American TV. They even know where the Superbowl
will be held next year, which I find amazing. Then we visit Lane 210,

which is a sort of new designer/art gallery/artisan area that is very trendy

and quaint at the same time.
Cool cafes, very expensive boutiques, etc. I almost go for a
t-shirt at a hip shop called ShirtFlag. Are we sure I don't need a
shirt that says "Worker Peasant Farmer Let's Kiss?"
I pass it up, thinking there will be other trendy Maoist kitsch
in Beijing. Then we visit the warehouse area (along Suzhou Creek, mom)
that now houses the contemporary gallery scene, including the well know
ShangArt and Eastlink. We have high hopes, since it seems that every
art mag in the last 6 months has done a feature on the hot
Chinese artists, but really, with the exception of a handful of
already very famous artists, the work is very derivative, old fashioned,
etc. Figurative stuff in which the faces all have tiny features or big
eyes, Social realist critiques/scenarios, etc.
We go to a cafe - everyone here smokes, and spits, and you just have
to deal with it. (Apparently, the government has started a campaign in
Beijing for the 2008 Olympics to try and get the locals NOT to spit,
since we Westerners find it gross). Good luck.SUZHOUThe next morning,

we are met by our SUPER PERKY young giggling happyguide, Celia.

We drive two hours to Suzhou, the city that is calledthe Venice of the East,

and famous for it's gorgeous gardens, some ofwhich have been maintained

for almost a 1000 years.

This ancient villageis, however, ringed by vast suburban industrial complexes,

a sort ofSilicon Valley of Korean, American, Japanese electronics firms.

Miles and miles of impeccably landscaped and maintained factories,

apartment buildings,etc.

It's a sort of testament to Chinese industriousness,and vigor, and desire,

and pretty scary. They could easily conquer the worldlike this.

The Indians have no way to compete with this - they are SO far behind in

modernization, not even having a govt. that can deal with pickingup the garbage,

much less getting anything done on this scale.

But the ancient city center is picture postcard gardens, canals,
(Jackie sees her first pagoda!) perfect Feng Shui, oasises of
pavilions and bamboo and scholars studies and magnificent rocks and ponds. I ask our guide "what are those beautiful buildings
behind the pagoda?" and she says "your hotel". Yahoo! The Sheraton here is perfectly designed to blend in, and just as lovely, though I suppose it's a bit like being in a Las Vegas version of a place.
We trek out to the Buddhist temple for the vegetarian restaurant, and are happy to see a few monks wandering around.
Our guide considers China to have complete freedom of religion, and when we question her, says everyone is very happy,

that things are so much better, they all feel so free, etc. But when we ask if there

is freedom to criticize the govt., she shakes her head no, we can't do that,

but we don't feel the need. Hmm...I think we'd have to talk to artists and intellectuals to
get a different version of this. But really, if you didn't know the history
of this place, there is almost nothing to let on that this is a communist
country, or had a long complicated terrible history, or circumscribed in any
way. Well, maybe the nationalist songs playing in People's Square in Shanghai
(the old racetrack, mom), but little else.Celia seems to know the words to every

American pop song you can imagine, and she sings them all beautifully,

and I'm sorry to say that we shame our country by not being able to come up

with even ONE new pop song to teach her. Jeez. Kirk tries an Aretha Franklin tune,

but she's not impressed. The driver, on the other hand, laughs with delight

when I sing him the Flower Drum Song.
Thanks, Dad! All day long is an English lesson for Celia, and cultural tidbits
for us, and it's a bit exhausting, especially the perpetual perkiness and
giggling. We think it might be nice to have a slightly more mature guide next.....

HUANGSHAN MOUNTAINS

But no. We are met at the airport for our trip to HuangShan by April,
who is even more PEPPY and HAPPY and BOUNCY and HAPPY TO SEE US than Celia.
Kirk thinks that they are all on Crystal Meth. This time we arrive at a hotel
that has seen better days and few Westerners and not, apparently, a vaccuum
cleaner. Breakfast is a debacle, with hordes of Japanese, Chinese, and Korean
tourists elbowing each other at the buffet, screaming loudly at the staff if
a platter is empty, and yelling a lot. I never knew how boisterous the Asians
are - we always have the cliche of the demure, polite, quiet Asian, but it ain't
true. Add to this the eating habits, where slurping, smacking the lips loudly,
picking the teeth, burping, and spitting out bones on the table is considered
the norm, and it's quite a scene. We are happy to get in the car and drive to
the Yellow Mountains, the Celestial Realm, where I'm hoping to see landscape
that looks like the traditional Chinese Taoist paintings. We have been told to

take only a small duffle - the car can only go so far, after which we will take

a cable car, and then after that we will walk UPSTAIRS for half an hour.

The mountains are so steep that they are pretty much inaccessible

except for on foot. (No, Martha, not even a mule). Which means,
to our shock, that we see porters, dozens of them, carrying enormous bundles
over bamboo poles, up the steps, from the bottom...the cable cars are reserved
for passengers only, so they will climb the three hours to the top with about
100kgs. Each. YIkes! These are truly the Chinese equivalents of the sherpas.
We realize in horror that EVERYTHING on this mountain - every bottle of water,
every grain of rice in the restaurants, every brick for each hotel, was hand
carried up these steps; and every piece of garbage, every single sheet and towel
will be carried down to be washed and then carried back up again. It is mind
boggling, and jarring, and we can only gasp and wince when we pass them.
You can even have them carry YOU up, which, believe me, became
tempting over the next two days. I promise I will never, ever,
complain about my job.Immediately we go on a hike, and realize that the world of contrastmeans the Sublime in terms of landscape, and countered by the

hordesof tourists who are up here with us. This has been a famous tourist

spot for over 1200 years, and immortalized by every chinese poet and painter.

The scenery is truly WHIMPER AND WEEP gorgeous.
It is exactly like Taoist paintings; the painters apparently were
abstracting nothing. It is all mist, and scraggly pine, and deep deep gorges,
and birdsong. We literally sit down and weep over a vista -
Beginning To Believe Peak. Kirk keeps saying "this MUST be the most
beautiful place on the planet, right?" The govt. has preserved
everything meticulously; the steps not only allow you to
climb up and down the super steep slopes, but protect the soil.
There are rock trashcans everywhere, not ONE speck of litter, and
ecological awareness is everywhere here. Are these really the same
people wreaking havoc with their dams? We take a gazillion photos,
which I'm sure will all look like cliches of the sublime,
but what can you do? Stone Monkey Gazes Over the Sea of Clouds, Cloud
Dispelling Pavilion, Purple Dragon Peak, etc. We are pixel sluts.After lunch, we do another 3-4 hours; the trails/steps are amazing,
and daunting, and exhausting. So now the Sublime, instead of including
fear of death like in the Himalayas, is touched with Suffering, of the
physical sort. We are sweating, and tired, and can't take our eyes off
the views, which are perpetual, and resplendent, and awesome. Yup, get to
use that word again. But really, I'm beginning to suspect
that the God of Stairmasters might have it in for me tomorrow.

We get up at, gulp, 4:15am (Kirk says "are we really doing this without
going fishing?") for the famous Beihai sunrise. And by the time we climb
to the Dawn Gazing Pavilion, there are already dozens of Japanese with
their tripods set up, gabbing at the top of their lungs, as do the Chinese.
It's amazing that these are the cultures that practically invented
Enlightenment through the Peaceful Contemplation of Nature. Hah!
They like to yell out loud, Samurai yelps, when they like the view.
I actually thought to myself "Jeez, in the States, even the assholes
would shut up at sunrise at the Grand Canyon, no?" Ah well, a cultural
difference that takes getting used to. This is the ONLY place in the world
where you can spot the Americans by how QUIET they are! But sunrise is lovely
and gauzy and faintly pink and gray and accompanied by an orchestra of
otherworldly birdcalls, which we can still hear over the cries of "HAI!!"

I wonder if it would be easier to achieve enlightenment as a Taoist monk here
in Huangshan or an Indian saddhu in the caves in the Himalayas....

Today, after six hours on the Celestial Stairmaster yesterday, I am a wreck.
Every step is killing my thighs (yeah, so much for Miss Ashtanga) and I'm
wincing, and bouncy little April says "today, we go up to Highest Peak!
Very Beautiful! Very Steep!" Aieeeeee! And we do it, and the mist is
appropriately magnificent even though I want to cry, and the gorges are
inducing nature's version of Stendhal Syndrome, and I really really want
to go back to the hotel later and try that "Mend-Foot Pinch" they are
advertising in the salon. At one point, I think to myself, while climbing
up to the Lion Crouching Mountaintop in the afternoon, well,
I know I supposedly wiped my karma clean last fall bathing in the Ganges,
but evidently I have some penance to do, and this is it. Mercifully,
late afternoon brings roaring thunder, and April says we can't go any
higher because it's too dangerous - people on top of the 1.2 million
year old granite spires act like lightning rods, and there has apparently
been an incident involving 20 people being hit by lightning simultaneously,
so I am granted a reprieve, and happily go back down the mountainside
step by step saying my new mantra,"ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch".
Now, tea and, good god, OREOS. Life is good!

To be continued next weekend...

by Jackie Tileston

Episode 1 of our China Adventures

After 40 hours of travel time, we are so happy to get off the plane. They didn't have our veggie meals on board, so the poor guilty steward just kept bringing us leftover fruit and cheese plates from first class. First impressions: Wow. Everything is so clean, and organized. I suppose I expected China to be closer to India than Japan in this way, but really, the Workers have really united and gotten their shit together.
Shanghai is HUGE. Can it really be 16 million people?



We arrive at our very sweet hotel, a converted mansion
from the 30's in the French Concession. We specifically
wanted a "boutique" hotel instead of one of the mega chain
super expensive ones. We have Chinese antiques in our room,
a four-poster bed, and everything is renovated beautifully.
We would be PERFECTLY happy except the bed is hard, like
most eastern beds. But there is a very mod and trendy little
restaurant where we have breakfast, and everyone is very
nice. We won't have a guide while in Shanghai (or Beijing),
so I get to try out my rudimentary Mandarin.
Surprisingly, no one is laughing out loud.

ANCIENT AND FUTURE:

We go to the Yu Yuan Gardens, an ancient gorgeous landscape in the center of the city, and walk through pavilions, and over streams, and ogle cool rocks. Then a lunch adventure. Almost nothing is available without meat - greens, some tofu, some rice. Even the "vegetable dumplings" have pork. So does the eggplant. You get the picture. Uh oh.

Next we go to the Bund - we walk along the HuangPu
River and look at the historic buildings, and the
skyscrapers of Pudong across the river. It seems that
the riverside is full of Chinese tourists, all posing
for each other in hilarious fashion. They are actually
Voguing. (Mom and Dad, seek help on this one). Next we
take the Bund Tourist Tunnel to cross under the river.
Our guidebook describes it as a cross between a haunted
house and a psychedelic train ride and utterly ridiculous,
which it is. Flashing lights, computerized sounds
and light show, all to accompany your little tram
through the tunnel. We actually laugh out loud at
how kitsch it is. The Chinese are very proud of this.
It bodes well for the opening games of the Olympics.



Then we go up the famous Pearl Radio Tower, sort of a cross
between the Eiffel Tower and a cartoon landing station, but the
third highest building in Asia. It's quite bizarre looking.
There's something to be said for a culture that will decorate
it's tallest phallic structure in PINK metallic coating.
I don't know what, exactly, but I'm sure you can say, uh, something.
And for as far as your eye can see, skyscrapers, skyscrapers,
everywhere, for 360 degrees. It's mind boggling.



For dinner, we decide to try one of the two vegetarian restaurants in town, figuring that at least if we make some mistakes in ordering, we'll be fine. Hah! Actually, MOST of the meal was excellent - a variety of greens in garlic, fried noodles, tofu, and since the Chinese do such a good job in the fake meat department, BBQ Spare Ribs.
Only they came with some unidentified other thing. I tasted it, really I did, but after much deliberation and discussion, I concluded that this mystery substance can only be Mock Grub. The Chinese take their food very seriously, and each restaurant gives us menus that are literary tomes - spiral bound or three ring binders, with hundreds of mystery items. We have to take notes in order to order.
After an exhausting day two at the Shanghai Museum - paintings, bronzes, ceramics, etc. - we wander down the antiques lane/flea market, Dong Tai Lu. I keep asking things like "are you sure we don't need any figurines of Chairman Mao? Doesn't Peggy need that Chairman Mao ashtray?"
Took some great still life photos of all the junk. Then off to the famous Huxintang Tea House in the Yu Yuan Gardens -where I mortified the old man who served us when I asked for lemon. I might as well have cursed the Chairman himself....The tea was served in the smallest possible cups, and accompanied by - mystery eggs. Really. Small brown and white marbleized things the size of grape tomatoes. Kirk, treating this as an episode of Survivor, actually ate two. I, after my mock grub experience, declined. I'm more of a cookie with tea girl, myself.

We tried another "Vegetarian" restaurant that night, which was also excellent, though it took us half an hour to maneuver through the menu.
Here are some of my favorite offerings:
(it reads a bit like a certain Monty Python skit, eh?) Sauteed Clover with Pigs, Bowel Deep Fried Sparrow, Sauteed Shreds of Birds of Peace with Paste. The Verdure of Towel Gourd in Casserole Delicacies of Every Kind in Skilly Assorted Noodless Adding Up Brawn.Go ahead.

YOU order.


To be continued next week...



By Jackie Tileston

Landslides and Empanadas in Ecuador

I forgot to mention that while we were creeping and crawling our way BACKWARDS down the descent of El Nariz del Diablo, the train came to a screeching halt. Heavy rains from the previous night caused an impressive landslide and was blocking our route. Edgardo, our jovial trainmaster, asked for volunteers to help shovel and manually dig the rocks out the way. There is nothing more invigorating as a morning work-out than digging massive, slimy rocks out of a muddy pile of dirt with your bare hands, throwing them over your shoulder, and listening to the rocks crash....oh, about a thousand feet below. Worse, we just happened to be on the part of the train tracks that were only barely a foot or so wider than the tracks themselves, so those of us who had offered to help dig out were precariously balancing ourselves on a strip of dirt that had nothing but crisp cold mountain air separating us from dizzyingly steep canyon walls. Just another typical day of research and development for work...

Note to self: Add landslide evacuation specialist to list of skills on resume.

HOW TO COOK AN EMPANADA ON TOP OF A VOLCANIC ROCK

1. Go to Ecuador, or any other country that seems to have a high density of volcanoes within its borders.
2. Go to Chimborazo and locate the oldest, highest train station in the country, perched at just about 11,000 feet above sea level in the desolate, windswept foothills of the Andes.
3. Be hungry. Know how to say that in Spanish - "Yo tengo hambre." Don't say, "Yo tengo hombre," because that means I have a man, and if I had a man, he'd be feeding me right now. Since I don't, I have to say, "Yo tengo hambre." Such is life. The wild-haired, arthritic cook in the kitchen of the oldest, highest train station in the country, not having seen anyone except his decrepit smiling wife and their balding but joyous three-legged dog for the past two weeks, will gladly make you a snack.
4. Stoke up the cast iron stove until it is blazing hot.
5. Place sacred black volcanic rock on top of cast iron stove. Said piece of black volcanic rock, according to legend, must be dug out of the ground only at the deadest part of the night; if the rock should see sun, it will not be happy and will not heat properly.
6. Sear empenada on both sides til nicely browned.
7. Top with aji, the succulent hot sauce so prevalent in the country - a tomatoey, onioney, peppery concoction that should properly light your tonsils on fire.
8. Eat.
9. Sigh.
10. Ask for more.

by Allie Almario
Vice-president - Myths and Mountains
Journey Of A Lifetime

Keep Dreaming. Seriously.

You're counting down the weeks (days, actually...okay, minutes) until your next vacation...those precious seven days when you can turn off your cell phone, shelve your to-do list and set up your "out of office without access to email" response on Outlook.

This year, you and some pals have decided to spend a week in Yellowstone National Park--just the six of you, the open sky and Old Faithful. The excellent organizer that you are (you've been dubbed "VP of logistics" over the years), there's no surprise that the task of planning the trip is yours. You don't mind, though--you're actually looking forward to the challenge.

...Check that--you thought you were looking forward to the challenge--until the requests started dribbling in: Roger and Steve would like to fly fish (preferably for trout) and do some hiking. Sue wants to ride horses and check out a hot spring. Jerry's keen on rafting--the bigger the rapids the better--and Cheryl, of course, wants to be pampered..."see if you can find a place for us to get a massage and a pedi," her email read.

Oh, and the group isn't really the camping type--the comforts of a nice inn or resort with good food and a healthy wine selection are a must. Great. Planning a dream vacation for one is one thing, but for six? Impossible, right? Wrong.

All it takes is a conversation with a trip consultant at Trusted Adventures to craft an exclusive, custom itinerary tailored exactly to you. And to Roger and Steve, Jerry, Cheryl and Sue. Simply share your laundry list of "requests" and leave the rest to the experts. Seriously. It's that easy.

Things are looking up.

Fast forward to day four of your Austin-Lehman Adventures vacation: you've spent the morning riding horses alongside bubbling mud pots and herds of moose, dismounting now and then to fly fish the Yellowstone River or to soak your feet in a hidden hot spring. Lunch was a gourmet picnic prepared by Cheri, your guide, who'd overheard Roger talking about his obsession with Dr. Pepper and Sue talking about hers with chocolate. Sure enough, your epicurean lunch was accompanied by cans of Dr. Pepper and all-you-can-eat Hershey's dark chocolate bites.

Back at the inn, the sun's setting and you've got an hour to kill before dinner. Instead of a nap, the group opts for a cocktail in the hot tub. As air jets massage your sore muscles (it's been a while since your thighs have clung to a saddle), a toast is made, to you: "The master planner! VP of logistics. How'd you do it? Everything's perfect! We wouldn't change a thing. By the way, did you tell Cheri I liked Dr. Pepper??"

You think for a minute about admitting to your pals that the planning really wasn't hard--that Austin-Lehman did it all--and more, actually. The little surprises--the Dr. Peppers and the chocolates (there was something new everyday)--you had nothing to do with. But why spoil the fun?

So you smile, and as you clink glasses and sip Pinot Noir, you sink down into the tub and let the hot water bubble over your shoulders. "Anything for you guys," you say with a grin.

Cheers to that.