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.
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