Mingalarbar!!

Hello in Burmese is Mingalarbar, pronounced Ming-ga-la-ba. That and Jay-zu-ba, or thank you, get you a long way. Anytime you shout Mingalarbar!, it is met with an enthusiastic return. I've left Myanmar, and I'm traveling in Nepal. I miss it. I miss the people, the warm, friendly people. I think you always miss the place you just leave. Finally when you feel like you've warmed up and have a grasp of the culture, you leave, and then look back on it fondly. Africa is one of those places for me, sometimes hard and challenging to travel, but when you leave it stays with you. I think Myanmar's people will forever stay with me, especially the children.

There were two more places I visited in Myanmar. The first, Kalaw, an old British hill station in the mountains, a cold reprieve from the humid heat of the low lands. The main temple is a stupa covered in gold mirrors, a beautiful site with the mountains lining the background. A thick haze covers the valley in the morning and breaks by mid day. We started to trek the day after we arrived, 20 km/12 miles through the mountains in and out of Kalaw villages. In Pa-O village, they primarily make green tea. Tea leaves lay drying in the sun on tarps, crispy and black. We hiked up to see how the locals sort and pack the tea. While we were there a man and his wife invited us into their house to have a taste. There home was out of a novel, an old National Geographic, something I'd seen as a child of far off places, places I never thought I would have the chance to see. Their home had a smooth stone floor, clean and polished, a fire was in the middle of the open room, a mat on the ground, and a guitar on the wall. As two of us sat and drank tea, the smoke from the fire heating the kettle rose and the sun shone through the window, creating the most perfect scene. Something I would never believe to be real. The man sat, cloth draped on his head, staring out of the doorway. He graciously let me take his photo, my favorite from Myanmar. Our guide Sol, was a small, kind faced man. So knowledgeable about the land and the people. He explained the landscape, and the plants, the villages and their traditions. He had studied law in the city and told us he wanted to earn clean money, without corruption and spend his time in nature, the jungle being his favorite. I could have spent days listening to him and his stories about his family and the treks in the jungle.

After Kalaw, we headed to Inle Lake. Inle Lake is probably the most developed tourist area of all. In the morning, we headed through the fog by tuk-tuk to the lake. It was the day of the full moon, beautiful offerings were arranged in adorned silver cups, oranges, breads, fried vegetables and rice. Today was a holiday, work subsided and prayer was the first priority. We boarded wooden canoes as the men and women rowed with a paddle and their leg, a very distinct method by the Burmese. We were touted around from the markets, a village home visit, a blacksmith, silversmith, and a monastery. All of which were lovely, but seemed a bit contrived and put on. After all the shuttling, we headed back through the lake at sunset. Historically, traditional fisherman used woven basket-like nets to catch fish, today, the fisherman use nets to troll the waters. One of my favorite photos from Myanmar came out of a moment that was faked by men who were probably fisherman, but not accustom to these nets, and were paid by the guide to pretend for a photo. This is the reality, sometimes you get authenticity, and sometimes you get this. I always try to be as respectful and invisible as possible, but inevitably you can't hide the fact that you are a tourist, a traveler at best. Not to sour the taste for Myanmar and it's beautiful people. I absolutely loved it there. Goodbye Myanmar, love you.