When I think of Myanmar, I think of the last frontier. This hasn’t always been the case. Before the summer of 2012, ethnic diversity, Aung San Suu Kyu and her house arrest, and the military junta would have popped into mind. Nothing used to jumped out at me to make Myanmar a place I had any sense of urgency to visit. What a difference a year makes.
Many observers, including Muhtar Kent, CEO of Coca-Cola, have likened Myanmar’s recent rebirth to the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 — largely unexpected and full of wonderful challenges and opportunities ahead.
Just a little over a year ago, while I was working at Ogilvy & Mather, news was abuzz with the pressing need for brands who wanted a shot at Myanmar to make their first move. And fast. After all, in China, Yum Brands, which just so happens to have hosted a KFC tasting event in Yangon this past May, surpasses McDonald’s in terms of both revenue and number of store outlets, largely because of its “first mover advantage,” representing a role reversal unfathomable here in McDonald’s-loving United States. It is interesting to note here that KFC was the first foreign fast food chain to enter the Chinese market back in 1987. In Myanmar, that title is already taken by South Korean fast food giant Lotteria, which opened its first outlet this past April.
With companies racing to break into this reopened market, I, too, felt the urgency to experience a society, a culture, and a people whose simple way of life will undoubtedly look radically different in a few short years. The countdown until the presidential elections in 2015, which could put opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi in power, has already started ticking.
From my own trip to Myanmar in August, I could feel that change was and had been in the air for quite some time already. Simple is relative, I’ve been told, as the way of life was already but a shadow of what it used to be. But even more significant than changes in social customs, Myanmar was visibly on the cusp of monumental structural change. After all, up until this past June, Myanmar was formerly one of three countries where Coca-Cola did not operate. The remaining two are North Korea and Cuba.
And of course, from the newly installed advertisements in the baggage claim hall of Yangon Mingaladon Airport to excited expats, nobody failed to mention this fact.
In the past, Coca-Cola was imported from Thailand, which, due to high transport costs, made it a cost-prohibitive luxury that only few could enjoy. Now, Coke bottled in Myanmar is everywhere, effectively eclipsing the presence of Star Cola, the domestic equivalent that boasts a logo closely resembling that of Pepsi.
Coke’s TV spot “Brr” makes it seem as if the soft drink never left the country, seamlessly blending into the Myanmar way of life and enjoyed by the thanaka-smeared middle-aged street vendor balancing a platter of sliced watermelon on her head, diehard soccer fans watching matches on clunky television sets, longyi-wearing men, and young people that seem as if they could have been from anywhere in Southeast Asia. All the while teaching the people of Myanmar how to enjoy Coke: ice cold.
But enough about Coke and all this talk of entering emerging markets. Let’s talk about my trip, starting with food.
Mohingar, a stew made of beans, pearl onions, garlic, roasted peanuts, and ground fish with either thick or thin rice noodles, is my personal favorite. Just like pho in Vietnam, mohingar is traditionally eaten for breakfast, but can be had at any time of day. Unlike pho, despite the complexity and depth of the soup’s flavor, it is relatively simple and fast to make, taking no more than an hour to prepare. Complementing the dish’s savoriness, chopped coriander, chili flakes, freshly squeezed lemon juice, fried gourd, and onion fritters can be added on top for a zesty crunch. Due to miscommunication, I ended up consuming two bowls one after the other — the first with thin rice vermicelli, the second with thicker rice noodles. But hey, I didn’t complain!
With a meal (or two) in my stomach, I set out for Shwedagon Pagoda, the most sacred Buddhist pagoda in Burma. It was stunning — even in the torrential rainstorm that I had the misfortune of encountering. While the gilded stupa was awe-inspiring, I was most fascinated by the immense respect that people seemed to show toward the complex, especially in the ornately decorated temple arcade (pictured above). The gold leaf on the pagoda is regularly replaced every couple of years and completely financed by the people. At practically every temple I visited, male worshippers purchased sheets of gold-leaf from stores like those in the photo and stuck them directly on Buddha statues. One Buddha statue in Inle Lake was covered with so many sheets of gold that the Buddha transformed into a shiny gold orb. This is in a country where the GDP per capita hovers around US$1,200. Moreover, temple grounds were always immaculately clean. Visitors remove their shoes at temple entrances, which certainly helps with the housekeeping.
Furthermore, above and beyond serving as a place of religious worship, temple grounds served recreational purposes as well. Couples could be seen chatting in quiet corners, men napped sprawlingly on bamboo mats, and stray cats roamed freely. I could see the appeal of spending the afternoon in an oasis away from the hustle and bustle of Yangon.
The streets of Yangon were social, colorful, and vibrant. Particularly in Chinatown, restaurants stayed open until late, eagerly welcoming passersby to take a seat and enjoy a Myanma Beer (which is quite tasty). Stalls serving up flavorful grilled meat, including whole fish, flanked narrow alleyways filled with quaint and aged colonial housing stock.
An hour plane ride from Yangon, Bagan was a mysterious plain dotted with more than 2,000 Buddhist temples, pagodas, and monasteries, many of which are filled with well-preserved artwork. Unlike the frustratingly crowded atmosphere at the Angkor Archaeological Park in Cambodia, the ambiance in Bagan was subdued, tranquil, and strangely familial. Perhaps August was an exceptionally great off-peak season in which to visit Bagan, but I barely noticed other people in the area. Aside from the same handful of foreign faces appeared again and again at each temple I visited, it seemed as if I had Bagan to myself.
That is, until a horde of villagers suddenly surrounded me and my twin brother, shouting “a mwa” (pronounced something like “à moi” in French). Aside from mingalaba (hi), chae su be (thanks), and ta da (bye), the most common word I heard during my time in Myanmar was a mwa. Whenever my brother and I would walk into a store, the shopkeeper would grin, turn to our guide, and ask, “A mwa?” This happened ten, twenty times a day. In the case of the happy villagers, they were ecstatic because there were two twin sisters among them and they were excited to introduce us. Apparently twins bring good luck. Can’t say they’re wrong!
Bagan was a magical place. Monasteries in crumbled disrepair could still be climbed by the irreverent, temple masterpieces felt like one’s private art gallery, and the souvenir peddlers, while already quite pushy, hadn’t yet mastered the art of getting tourists to part with their money. People were honest, visitors were few and generally respectful, and the environment was not yet sold out for tourist dollars. Sadly, I think there is no way that this can last. In just a few years, all of this will change. I’m sure of it.
One major change from the way things were was the abundance of talk about government cronies, Aung San Suu Kyi’s “good for nothing” brother, and the corrupt policies that have kept Bagan from being designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. The country lacks stability, but the people try to lead normal lives. The flag has been changed, the currency has been changed (twice), the capital has been changed, but hopefully some real change to help the livelihood of the Burmese will come soon. The photo above depicts a common sight in parts of the country that tourists visited, whether it be at temples or at markets. One can be certain that this wall of books (or at least the particular selection) did not used to be here.
Our final destination was Inle Lake, located about an hour from Bagan by plane. For lack of a better description, it’s essentially a large lake inhabited by hundreds of thousands of people whose families have lived in stilt homes for centuries. Incredibly scenic, Inle served as a respite from nonstop temple runs. With little in the way of tourist sites (although practically all of the “traditional workshops” were surely built exclusively for tourists given their English signage and inflated price tags), virtually nonexistent internet connection, and very dim interior lighting in the evenings, there was little to do besides kick back, relax, and sleep under mosquito netting. I liked the sound of that.
One particular workshop highlighted the ethnic diversity of the Inle region. The Kayan tribe, known as the group whose women wear brass neck coils, calls Shan State (where Inle Lake is located) home. A number of them fled to the Thai border a few decades back, where they apparently became economically self-sufficient based on tourist revenue alone. Clearly, we weren’t the only ones who wanted a family photo with them.
Back in Yangon for one final night, here’s a shot of the city skyline at night from the balcony of the beautiful Hotel Grand United (Ahlone Branch). Notice how the city is pretty dark except for the fantastical glow of Shwedagon Pagoda in the back. In fact, I could even see the stars!
Right in the city center is the Sule Pagoda (the golden pagoda in the background), which serves as kilometer zero for Yangon. During the day, when the bright sun beats down upon Yangon, the eclectic mix of building facade colors blends in a way that simultaneously complements each other and creates a cacophony of character. Many are a far cry from their colonial glory days, but they still serve as home for the colorful longyi wearing, betel nut noshing residents. I wonder how much longer things will stay this way.
A huge thank you to my friend Larry, without whom I wouldn’t have had this phenomenal experience. My glimpses into life in Myanmar reassured me that much more lies in store for me in Southeast Asia. I’ll most certainly be back.
Many observers, including Muhtar Kent, CEO of Coca-Cola, have likened Myanmar’s recent rebirth to the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 — largely unexpected and full of wonderful challenges and opportunities ahead.
Just a little over a year ago, while I was working at Ogilvy & Mather, news was abuzz with the pressing need for brands who wanted a shot at Myanmar to make their first move. And fast. After all, in China, Yum Brands, which just so happens to have hosted a KFC tasting event in Yangon this past May, surpasses McDonald’s in terms of both revenue and number of store outlets, largely because of its “first mover advantage,” representing a role reversal unfathomable here in McDonald’s-loving United States. It is interesting to note here that KFC was the first foreign fast food chain to enter the Chinese market back in 1987. In Myanmar, that title is already taken by South Korean fast food giant Lotteria, which opened its first outlet this past April.
With companies racing to break into this reopened market, I, too, felt the urgency to experience a society, a culture, and a people whose simple way of life will undoubtedly look radically different in a few short years. The countdown until the presidential elections in 2015, which could put opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi in power, has already started ticking.
From my own trip to Myanmar in August, I could feel that change was and had been in the air for quite some time already. Simple is relative, I’ve been told, as the way of life was already but a shadow of what it used to be. But even more significant than changes in social customs, Myanmar was visibly on the cusp of monumental structural change. After all, up until this past June, Myanmar was formerly one of three countries where Coca-Cola did not operate. The remaining two are North Korea and Cuba.
And of course, from the newly installed advertisements in the baggage claim hall of Yangon Mingaladon Airport to excited expats, nobody failed to mention this fact.
In the past, Coca-Cola was imported from Thailand, which, due to high transport costs, made it a cost-prohibitive luxury that only few could enjoy. Now, Coke bottled in Myanmar is everywhere, effectively eclipsing the presence of Star Cola, the domestic equivalent that boasts a logo closely resembling that of Pepsi.
Coke’s TV spot “Brr” makes it seem as if the soft drink never left the country, seamlessly blending into the Myanmar way of life and enjoyed by the thanaka-smeared middle-aged street vendor balancing a platter of sliced watermelon on her head, diehard soccer fans watching matches on clunky television sets, longyi-wearing men, and young people that seem as if they could have been from anywhere in Southeast Asia. All the while teaching the people of Myanmar how to enjoy Coke: ice cold.
But enough about Coke and all this talk of entering emerging markets. Let’s talk about my trip, starting with food.
Mohingar, a stew made of beans, pearl onions, garlic, roasted peanuts, and ground fish with either thick or thin rice noodles, is my personal favorite. Just like pho in Vietnam, mohingar is traditionally eaten for breakfast, but can be had at any time of day. Unlike pho, despite the complexity and depth of the soup’s flavor, it is relatively simple and fast to make, taking no more than an hour to prepare. Complementing the dish’s savoriness, chopped coriander, chili flakes, freshly squeezed lemon juice, fried gourd, and onion fritters can be added on top for a zesty crunch. Due to miscommunication, I ended up consuming two bowls one after the other — the first with thin rice vermicelli, the second with thicker rice noodles. But hey, I didn’t complain!
With a meal (or two) in my stomach, I set out for Shwedagon Pagoda, the most sacred Buddhist pagoda in Burma. It was stunning — even in the torrential rainstorm that I had the misfortune of encountering. While the gilded stupa was awe-inspiring, I was most fascinated by the immense respect that people seemed to show toward the complex, especially in the ornately decorated temple arcade (pictured above). The gold leaf on the pagoda is regularly replaced every couple of years and completely financed by the people. At practically every temple I visited, male worshippers purchased sheets of gold-leaf from stores like those in the photo and stuck them directly on Buddha statues. One Buddha statue in Inle Lake was covered with so many sheets of gold that the Buddha transformed into a shiny gold orb. This is in a country where the GDP per capita hovers around US$1,200. Moreover, temple grounds were always immaculately clean. Visitors remove their shoes at temple entrances, which certainly helps with the housekeeping.
Furthermore, above and beyond serving as a place of religious worship, temple grounds served recreational purposes as well. Couples could be seen chatting in quiet corners, men napped sprawlingly on bamboo mats, and stray cats roamed freely. I could see the appeal of spending the afternoon in an oasis away from the hustle and bustle of Yangon.
The streets of Yangon were social, colorful, and vibrant. Particularly in Chinatown, restaurants stayed open until late, eagerly welcoming passersby to take a seat and enjoy a Myanma Beer (which is quite tasty). Stalls serving up flavorful grilled meat, including whole fish, flanked narrow alleyways filled with quaint and aged colonial housing stock.
An hour plane ride from Yangon, Bagan was a mysterious plain dotted with more than 2,000 Buddhist temples, pagodas, and monasteries, many of which are filled with well-preserved artwork. Unlike the frustratingly crowded atmosphere at the Angkor Archaeological Park in Cambodia, the ambiance in Bagan was subdued, tranquil, and strangely familial. Perhaps August was an exceptionally great off-peak season in which to visit Bagan, but I barely noticed other people in the area. Aside from the same handful of foreign faces appeared again and again at each temple I visited, it seemed as if I had Bagan to myself.
That is, until a horde of villagers suddenly surrounded me and my twin brother, shouting “a mwa” (pronounced something like “à moi” in French). Aside from mingalaba (hi), chae su be (thanks), and ta da (bye), the most common word I heard during my time in Myanmar was a mwa. Whenever my brother and I would walk into a store, the shopkeeper would grin, turn to our guide, and ask, “A mwa?” This happened ten, twenty times a day. In the case of the happy villagers, they were ecstatic because there were two twin sisters among them and they were excited to introduce us. Apparently twins bring good luck. Can’t say they’re wrong!
Bagan was a magical place. Monasteries in crumbled disrepair could still be climbed by the irreverent, temple masterpieces felt like one’s private art gallery, and the souvenir peddlers, while already quite pushy, hadn’t yet mastered the art of getting tourists to part with their money. People were honest, visitors were few and generally respectful, and the environment was not yet sold out for tourist dollars. Sadly, I think there is no way that this can last. In just a few years, all of this will change. I’m sure of it.
One major change from the way things were was the abundance of talk about government cronies, Aung San Suu Kyi’s “good for nothing” brother, and the corrupt policies that have kept Bagan from being designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. The country lacks stability, but the people try to lead normal lives. The flag has been changed, the currency has been changed (twice), the capital has been changed, but hopefully some real change to help the livelihood of the Burmese will come soon. The photo above depicts a common sight in parts of the country that tourists visited, whether it be at temples or at markets. One can be certain that this wall of books (or at least the particular selection) did not used to be here.
Our final destination was Inle Lake, located about an hour from Bagan by plane. For lack of a better description, it’s essentially a large lake inhabited by hundreds of thousands of people whose families have lived in stilt homes for centuries. Incredibly scenic, Inle served as a respite from nonstop temple runs. With little in the way of tourist sites (although practically all of the “traditional workshops” were surely built exclusively for tourists given their English signage and inflated price tags), virtually nonexistent internet connection, and very dim interior lighting in the evenings, there was little to do besides kick back, relax, and sleep under mosquito netting. I liked the sound of that.
One particular workshop highlighted the ethnic diversity of the Inle region. The Kayan tribe, known as the group whose women wear brass neck coils, calls Shan State (where Inle Lake is located) home. A number of them fled to the Thai border a few decades back, where they apparently became economically self-sufficient based on tourist revenue alone. Clearly, we weren’t the only ones who wanted a family photo with them.
Back in Yangon for one final night, here’s a shot of the city skyline at night from the balcony of the beautiful Hotel Grand United (Ahlone Branch). Notice how the city is pretty dark except for the fantastical glow of Shwedagon Pagoda in the back. In fact, I could even see the stars!
Right in the city center is the Sule Pagoda (the golden pagoda in the background), which serves as kilometer zero for Yangon. During the day, when the bright sun beats down upon Yangon, the eclectic mix of building facade colors blends in a way that simultaneously complements each other and creates a cacophony of character. Many are a far cry from their colonial glory days, but they still serve as home for the colorful longyi wearing, betel nut noshing residents. I wonder how much longer things will stay this way.
A huge thank you to my friend Larry, without whom I wouldn’t have had this phenomenal experience. My glimpses into life in Myanmar reassured me that much more lies in store for me in Southeast Asia. I’ll most certainly be back.
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