On a balmy December evening, I was sitting on the poolside terrace of the Sedona Hotel Yangon enjoying a sumptuous feast of fresh seafood and barbecued meats as attentive waiters kept my glass of wine topped up. I leaned back, soaking up the luxurious setting as a troupe of elaborately costumed performers took to the stage to present a series of traditional folk dances, kept in time by the seemingly chaotic rhythm of Burmese percussionists and mi gyaung (zither) players.
This version of Yangon was a far cry from the tales I’d heard. Just four years ago, a SIM card in Myanmar could have cost in excess of US$500, internet access was virtually nonexistent, the few luxury hotels couldn’t get access to Western imports as basic as Coca-Cola, and foreign currency would most likely have had to be swapped on the black market.
How things have changed. A slowly emerging tourism industry has been given a major boost by the recent political changes. In April 2015, the National League of Democracy, helmed by Nobel Peace Prize winner Aung San Suu Kyi, stormed to victory over the ruling military junta, ushering in a new era for the country. This shift in power has been positively received by the West, with sanctions being lifted and foreign investment returning. Other factors such as online visa applications have also contributed to a surge in tourist figures, and Myanmar is now considered one of the hottest destinations in Southeast Asia.
Yangon, previously known as Rangoon, is an excellent starting point. The former capital is dotted with pagodas, parks, lakes and shrines, chief among them being the stunning Shwedagon Pagoda in the heart of the city. Seasoned travellers in Asia can (forgivably) become jaded by temple viewings, but this one stands out – literally. The soaring 110-metre golden pagoda, topped by a gigantic diamond, dwarfs surrounding buildings and can be glimpsed from numerous vantage points around the city – legend has it that this has been a holy site for 2,500 years.
Inside, it’s as though King Midas was let loose. A cluster of ornate golden temples and statues surround the main spire, with a designated shrine for each birth day of the week (eight, not seven, according to the Burmese astrological calendar which splits Wednesday into two). The revered complex is clearly the heart of city life; locals visit to pray, relax and do business, while scores of shaven-haired monks in traditional orange robes wander around. It’s particularly breathtaking in the evening, as soft illumination highlights every gilded tile. Visiting after the sun sets also makes the marble flooring more bearable on bare feet (an entry requirement). Free wifi is available throughout the entire site – a telling indicator of change in Myanmar.
Another distinctive part of Yangon is its downtown district, which boasts the highest number of colonial buildings in Southeast Asia. While certainly striking, there’s an air of faded beauty as you walk around. Many of the majestic granddames lining the broad, sweeping boulevards have been neglected and worn down by the elements, their once glorious exteriors crumbling and succumbing to nature. Thankfully, the revival of the country looks set to include its cultural heritage, with the Yangon National Trust being established in 2011 to protect these national treasures with ongoing redevelopment plans.
Despite the ramshackle nature of this area, it’s still pleasant to spend a few hours wandering around, absorbing the architecture and visiting iconic structures such as the High Court building, the General Post Office, complete with a mini-exhibition of ancient telegram machines, and The Secretariat – the building where Myanmar’s beloved General Aung San was assassinated. The time-warp effect is complemented by a selection of old-school jeeps on the roads, while motorbikes – a regular fixture of most Southeast Asian cities – are noticeably absent, having been banned within the city limits. Meanwhile, the pavements are busy with street food, second-hand bookstalls and vendors selling tourist trinkets.
A particularly famous landmark is the Strand Hotel, which exudes old-world charm. The interiors have been carefully renovated to maintain the original aesthetic, with marble flooring, mahogany furniture and period fixtures. It’s easy to travel back in time while sitting in the Strand Café’s rattan chairs enjoying a spot of tea under whirling ceiling fans, or partaking in happy hour at the colonial-style bar and drinking in the street views through teak-framed windows.
One thing you can’t fail to notice while exploring the city is that both men and women tend to be dressed in long sarong-type garments known as longyis. To purchase one for yourself, or indeed just about any kind of souvenir you could imagine, head to the massive Bogyoke Aung San Market. The vibrant bazaar houses a maze of stalls selling gems, artwork, antiques, clothing and handicrafts, plus plenty of food stalls with a variety of oily snacks. A friendly 10-year-old girl quickly latched onto me and gave me a private tour of the bustling complex, chatting in fluent English. She explained that the three circles of thanaka painted on her face – a tree bark paste seen on many women and children as a form of sunscreen – was also a très chic fashion statement, and helped me copy her style. Anything I wanted (or didn’t want), she knew which warren to go down, from her uncle’s jewellery store – which naturally offered the best rates – to brightly coloured Pathein umbrellas.
After a busy shopping session, it was on to the Green Elephant restaurant for delicious, authentic Burmese cuisine – a blend of Chinese, Thai and Indian influences. The rustic, two-storey wooden venue was clearly a popular tourist spot judging by the disproportionately high number of foreign faces among our fellow diners, and understandably so, with a tranquil alfresco setting decorated with fairy lights, paper lanterns and plenty of greenery. The restaurant is renowned for its attention to service, and the staff effortlessly waited on our party of 20 with a tasty array of dishes, from lentil soup to kyet thar hin (a mild chicken curry) and stir-fried vegetables. Another recommended dining spot is the House of Memories: part-museum, part-restaurant, the 175-year-old colonial building serves both Myanmarese cuisine and international dishes, with live piano music and a selection of memorabilia from Aung San, who’s office was once in the building.
Feeling adventurous the next day, I decided to leave the city limits. Arguably, the single best 200 kyats (US$0.15) you can spend in Yangon is on a trip on the circular city line. Departing from Yangon Central Railway Station throughout the day, the three-hour journey carves its way through the urban sprawl, providing a totally unadulterated window onto local life. As the antique carriages rocked and clacked over the tracks, the scene gradually shifted from modern buildings to pagodas, lush, green rice paddies, bustling market stops, aromatic fields and shanty towns, where children kicked around a chinlone (wicker ball), men snoozed by the rail tracks and women balanced baskets on their heads.
Even more captivating than the scenes outside was the bustle going on within the carriages. Shortly after departure, the long benches began to fill up with burly women and wiry men hauling sacks of produce and even live chickens onto the train. This was then offloaded through the open windows to waiting accomplices at stops along the way. An eclectic assortment of vendors also hopped on and off at each of the 39 stops, loudly hawking wares that ranged from fresh fruit and puddings to newspapers and betel leaf mixtures – a widely consumed psycho-stimulating concoction. I watched transfixed as one seller deftly laid out four leaves, filled them with a mysterious mix of ingredients and passed the small package to a young man through the window of the next carriage. He instantly popped it into his mouth and began chewing before spurting a stream of red juice through practised lips – a common sight in Yangon.
After three hours sitting on the hard plastic seats, I was ready to stretch my legs. I set off in the direction of Chinatown and discovered another sensory explosion. The belly of the city is a loud, colourful, grimy delight, with thousands of stalls lining every inch of pavement. On 26th Street is a stomach-churning authentic food market – raw meat, fresh fish and their entrails line both sides of a narrow alley floor with crowds weaving in and out. I watched in disbelief as a small pick-up truck emerged through the throngs of people, and wondered at the inconvenience to all the traders who’d laid their wares down the centre of the lane and would now presumably have to move them. But I was wrong to question the organised chaos in front of me – the van simply drove over the top of the neatly aligned baskets, live fish and all!
Nearing the end of a busy day, I intended to nip back to the hotel to shower before heading out for a drink with some friends. Big mistake. Though less than 10 kilometres from my destination, it took over an hour to get back in the taxi, crawling through the snarling traffic of Yangon’s congested city centre at rush hour. The light slowly faded, the midges started biting and my energy waned after a full day of sightseeing. Still, the thought of relaxing at a luxury hotel bar with a cool glass of Myanmar beer and the memory of this vibrant, exotic city fresh in my mind brought back a smile. There are far worse ways to end your day.
