First thing you notice is men in skirts.
After Nepal and India, I was used to seeing women dressed in exotic traditional clothing, but in Burma, not only the women, but also the vast majority of the men, are wearing non-Western clothes as part of their everyday dress. This is particularly interesting since cheap Chinese-made Western clothes are readily available all over Burma, but still, everybody seems to prefer the sarong-style wraparound ‘skirts’ called longyis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longyi). A longyi is nothing more than a large rectangular piece of cloth with the two shorter sides sewn together, thus making a cylindrical tube of material. You step inside this oversized tube, fold it over and tuck it in so it hangs on your waist and goes down to your feet.
In contrast to the simple longyis, my drawstring pants appeared to be at the cutting edge of technology. On a couple of occasions, I had people come up to me to examine my pants. They couldn’t quite understand how it all works, but they were highly impressed that the pants were being held on my hips by a string without any need for folding or tucking.
I can just imagine the British colonizers mocking this inferior and simple race that, in all its years of development, couldn’t even come up with a simple drawstring to keep up their bottoms.
Misha and I also didn’t fully appreciate the longyi until we both had an occasion to wear one. Then we both realized that its beauty is precisely in its simplicity. There are no parts that could stop working… no rubber bands that could snap, no zippers to break. It is a one size-fits-all affair. No need to try it on. No need for dressing rooms. After an especially large meal (which you are very likely to have in Burma), you simply adjust the longyi as you tuck it in. If you gain or lose a few (or more) pounds, no problem. No need for a new longyi. And of course its great in the hot local climate, as it allows air to circulate. Simple and brilliant!
Second thing that you immediately notice before you’ve even left the airport is women (and kids and sometimes men) with some kind of white mud on their face. It looks like they put on a facemask at the beauty parlor, and forgot to wash it off. This is called thanakha (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thanaka), a yellowish-whitish paste made from the bark of the thanakha tree. It is worn as a combination of skin conditioner, sunblock, and make-up, and can be quite attractive on some. Each woman puts it on in her own style and pattern. On kids, it is often used like face paint to make a design of teddy bears, flowers or leaves on their cheeks. I tried it as well a couple of times, and the skin feels quite soft and smooth at the end of the day once you’ve washed it off.
Soon you adjust to the men in skirts, and the women with facemasks, but there is another surprise around the corner that sends you tumbling further down the rabbit hole, and it happens as soon as one of natives opens his (or her) mouth and reveals a frightening sight of bright red, decaying teeth. Is it a mouth full of blood? Is this a country of vampires? No, this is a side effect of the highly popular mild stimulant known as betel nut (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Areca_nut), which is made from the chopped areca nut and a paste of slaked lime wrapped in a betel leaf. The locals chew and suck on this leaf-concoction for a light buzz, and occasionally spit out bloody red remnants. As a result, the sidewalks and street-corners are all dotted with red droplets giving it the appearance of blood stained streets. The chewing of the betel nut seems to be a national pastime of enormous popularity. You can spot the red-teeth on men and women, young and old, monks and laymen. A betel stand (or two or three) can be found on practically every corner.
Once you leave the airport and get on the road, there is a pleasant surprise that awaits you: right-hand driving! After the dizzying disorientation of left-sided driving in Nepal, India and Thailand, here is something normal that you can finally wrap your head around. But as soon as this thought crosses your mind, you realize, with a sudden pang of alarm, that, though the traffic is moving on the right side of the road, the driver, who you would naturally expect to find on the left side, is precariously missing. And we’re back, tumbling down the rabbit-hole once more. The pang of fear soon dissipates, as you realize that, no, the car is not steering driverless. That’s right… the driver is to be found (where else?) on the right-hand side of the vehicle. But soon the fear returns full-force, when you observe that same driver blindly zooming to the left to pass the car in front. It is up to the person in the passenger seat (if there is one) to help out or else this dangerous and common maneuver is done completely blindly. The driving in Burma hasn’t always been on the right side, but to distance itself from the British colonial period, the military government instigated an overnight-switch from the left to the right in 1970. Since many cars date back to pre-1970, or are cheap Japanese models, most steering wheels are perilously found on the right-hand side. It makes for some entertaining driving situations.
Now that you have tumbled down the rabbit-hole straight into Wonderland, you begin to relax and notice that you have stepped into an afternoon tea party. Really, the tea party seems to be happening 24 hours a day. The streets are lined with tea-stalls, surrounded by knee-high plastic tables with tiny plastic chairs or stools, like the kind you would find in a kindergarten class. Its quite humorous to watch crowds of grown Burmese men (and occasionally women) situate themselves on these tiny plastic chairs made for 5-year-olds. The tea is served in tiny cups with saucers and small metal spoons. The best part is that you get served tea with your tea. Let me explain. When you sit down at one of these tables, you are expected to order something, usually tea, which is black and sweetened with tons of condensed milk, sugar and cream, but alongside your order comes the complementary all-you-can-drink pot of tea, which is a mild green tea. So, you get tea with your tea, and its quite enjoyable, and everyone is happy.
These are just the first impressions of a truly unique country largely unspoiled by tourism. It’s a country populated with warm, smiling, genuinely friendly people, who on occasion want to sell you a postcard (or two or ten) or act as your tour-guide, but more often than not, are just interested in chatting, finding out which country you are from and what life is like there and telling you all about their own country which they genuinely love.
p.s. If you are desperate to see images of Burma, you can navigate to Misha's albums from his previous trip to Burma: http://public.fotki.com/mtselman/the-trip/burma/
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