Thursday, April 16, 2015

You’re safe with us (Myanmar Part II)

So much more happened during our time in Myanmar that I didn’t want to short change the rest of the events by throwing them in at the end of the previous blog post. 

After spending time with Unan, who I now, unbeknownst to our friends whos monk he really is, will refer to as our monk (Sorry Jeff and Catrina…), Gabby and I headed up to a city called Bagan.  Before describing our time in bagan, the adventure getting there and back is well worth describing, get excited…
 2014 wasn’t the best year for aviation.  I’m pretty sure Malaysian Airlines lost half of their fleet, planes were shot down, planes went missing, and planes crashed.  When signing up for an overnight program in Myanmar, I wasn’t exactly excited that the program required domestic flights, but I thought, meh, its ok, Semester at Sea wouldn’t book us on any shady airlines, they’ll stick to the big international carriers that they can trust.  Turns out the big international carriers that they can trust don’t operate in Myanmar.  There are four airlines, each owned by the same person, none with more than 5 airplanes in their fleet.  This was going to be interesting…
            Our first flight was on an airline called Yangon Airways.  I told myself, ok, its named after their capital city, it can’t be that bad (yah, that makes no sense, I know, but I was really trying really hard to make my self feel better), then I found myself saying things like ‘they have a permanent ticket counter’, and ‘oh, their logo looks well established’, (yes, I was really reaching here), but it was working (ok, well that and the constant stream of Xanax I was feeding myself at this point), I was feeling better about our chances.  Then I saw the airlines slogan, and no amount of self-soothing or xanax could talk me down from this one.  Yangon Airways, you’re safe with us.  The only time anyone ever tells you that you are safe with them is when it is so clear you are not safe with them, that they feel obliged to remind you.  A doctor tending to you after having a massive heart attack would say “ you’re safe with us”.  A stranger trying to lure a child into a van with no windows would unquestionable say “you’re safe with us”. No, asshole, were not safe with you.  Feeling safe with an airline is the default.  If you have to say it, it means it’s not true.  We are not safe with you...   Turns out we were safe with them, and at least they used the correct spelling of ‘you’re’, though I cant guarantee that at this writing (about a month after the fact), that the airplane we flew in is still in service. This airplane was old, like really really old, like flight attendant being the most prestigious job in the world old.  But we were safe. 
The trip home was different, but adventurous nonetheless.  Our program ended a bit early, so we headed to the airport, where we figured we could get some food, relax, and maybe catch up on e-mails before our flight.  Spoiler alert, NONE of those things happened.  We arrived at the Bagan airport 3 hour before our flight was supposed to depart.  This airport was small.   One main room where makeshift ticket counters were set up, one giant air-conditioning device (like the size of a VW Beatle) was on full blast, a lady with one of those slide open ice-cream coolers, some severely tattered airport chairs, and an area that was called security, though something must have been lost in translation, as there was nothing secure about what they were doing.  We were initially upset about the lack of food options, we were disappointed by the lack of wi-fi, and finally a bit irritated when they announced our flight would delayed by an hour.  Ok, not great, but not the worst thing in the world.  And then the power went out…   it’s 97 degrees outside and quickly this main room turns into a convection oven.  The western facing wall was glass, and the late afternoon sun was pouring in.  As soon as the power went out the giant air conditioner stopped, the ceiling fans came to a halt, and suddenly I was baking to death in the Burmese oven.  I felt like Hansel or Gretel.  It was getting hotter and hotter, and I was doing all I could to keep my self from losing it.  Then I remembered the lady with ice cream cooler….   Have you ever gone into some sort of a negotiation with absolutely no leverage what so ever? Here I was absolutely drenched from head to toe in sweat, carrying a large backpack and all I wanted was some ice cream.  I asked how much for an ice cream, she looked me up and down, and told me a price that was 3 times what I’m guessing it was before the power had gone off.  Feeling as though I was getting swindled I went on a rampage, explaining that in about 5 minutes all she was going to have left were bags of chocolate milkshake to sell, and soon after that it would be bags of rancid milk.  She didn’t look too concerned.  That’s when I realized this was probably not the first time this had happened, nor was it probably the first time that her ice cream had melted, gone bad, then refroze around the stick.  I turned and walked away, and was still ungodly hot. 
The strangest part about the power outage was not the ungodly heat, but that it didn’t seam to effect air traffic at all.  Planes kept coming and going.   You’d think a power outage at air traffic control would cause flights to be delayed.  It wasn’t, so uhh, what on earth caused our flight to be delayed????  When all was said and done, we were at the airport for nearly 4 hours.  Finally, just before we boarded our flight the power came back on, the air conditioner whirrrrred back to life, lights in the restrooms came back on ( I probably peed by Iphone light three or four times), and they were able to call our flight over the P.A.  I was so miserable the entire time that I had forgotten to be anxious about the sub-par nature of Burmese airlines.  We were about to board another flying death trap, when I noticed it was a different airline.  Was it a bad sign that their slogan wasn’t reassuring us of our safety?  In Myanmar does that mean we were not safe? I really didn’t know, and frankly, I was too sweaty to think about it.  To my delight however, the plane we were boarding was brand–spanking new.  So new in fact that where the no smoking light usually appears on the overhead compartment, a different imagine was covered by the red circle and crossed out, that of a laptop and an Iphone.  Myanmar really is a country of paradox!  

Now back to Bagan…

   Bagan is the ancient religious capital of the country, and at one time was home to over 10,000 stupas.  Questions 1: whats a stupa? Great questions.  A stupa is a religious sight, often containing a relic of Buddha, or one of his followers.  It’s like a Pagoda, but with differences that are completely irrelevant to this story (and I didn’t really listen that well when they were explaining the differences to us).  Question 2: 10,000 sounds like a lot, how many are left today?  Also a great question.  Nearly 2,500 stupas are still standing today.   Before going, and even after google imaging it, I really couldn’t grasp what I was going to see.  We drove by a number of the stupas, and while it was pretty cool, I still didn’t quite understand all the buzz about how spectacular it was.  The next morning we woke up before sunrise, e-biked (it’s a thing, look it up), to one of the tallest stupas (about 150 ft tall), climbed to the top, and patiently waited  (along with about 100 other people) for the sun to rise, and for me to understand all the hype.  The sun rose, it was pretty, I tried convincing myself that this was such an amazing experience, but clearly my heart was just not it.  It was great, no question about it, as it got brighter more stupas came into view, but a must see travel destination in the world, nah, I didn’t think so.  Then, the hot air balloons started to rise over the landscape, and BAM, I don’t know what it was, but somehow the scene became magical.  Stupas started to appear out of thin air, and the slow moving hot air balloons transformed the landscape into something completely surreal.  I know its an old cliché, but pictures (or youtube clips for that matter) just really don’t do it justice.   

Sadly, the rest of the day would be a bit of a blur.  After returning to my hotel I received an e-mail from my father that my Grandma Flo had passed away.  Grandma Flo lived a long fulfilling life, successfully raising 5 kids, and living to the ripe old age of 94.  It was her time, but that did not make being so far away any easier.  I’m just incredibly grateful that I got to see grandma Flo one last time when I was in Cleveland in October.  The rest of the day was strange. We had a full day itinerary, and were supposed to fly back to Yangon to meet the ship later that night. I was supposed to be on an ox cart ride 20 minutes after getting the e-mail.  It was strange.  I saw some sights, road an ox cart, and really thought a lot about what it meant to be so far away.  It was hard.  Then we were stuck at the burning hot airport for hours.  It was a day that I was happy to see end. 
            In the days that followed it was amazing how my newly formed community on board really rallied around me.  A couple friends prepared a service for the day of my Grandma’s funeral, and nearly 20 staff members attended.  I wanted more then anything to be able to attend the funeral at home, but here we were, smack dab in the middle of the Indian Ocean.  It truly was the only time on this entire voyage that I wished I was somewhere else.  It was a hard couple of days, but the out pouring of support really showed me what Semester at Sea is about.  Just like the ship its self, everything in life must move forward, and so we did.  Rest In Peace Grandma Flo.













No comments:

Post a Comment