[Above photo: A Room With a View. Mine.]
25 December 2018
After a not-so-bad 29 hour flight (3 planes, 3 legs), during which I slept at least 5 or 6 hours (Thanks, melatonin.), I was met by the Head of Psychiatry, Dr. Tin Oo and Dr. Kyi Min Tun, a young psychiatrist on faculty. They were most helpful and welcoming. As we drove to my hotel, Dr. Tin Oo showed me a live stream on his phone of a fire that had just broken out in the large (1500 bed) mental hospital, presumably from faulty wiring in the dining room. After dropping me off at 1AM, they were driving over to witness and help. Is this a bad omen?
My entry here was otherwise undramatic and painless—-no forms to fill out demanding to know if I was bringing in fruit or vegetables, no inspection of my bags, a quick and simple wave through customs. The guidebooks and Fulbright folks are pretty clear that you need 6 months of rent upfront in $100 bills, uncreased, but that you cannot bring in more than $10,000 without declaring it. I don’t want to declare that I am carrying more than $10,000 in US bills on my person in the middle of the night in a foreign-to-me city, so I brought in $9900 plus change. No one even asked me. Can I learn to be worried when the need arises, not anxious when there is no clear advantage to me for that? What do you think, Linda? It seems part of my fiber, I fear.
I suspect that for most who live in this Buddhist city today is a simply a weekday like any other, excepting that museums and banks are closed. There is Christmas music in the mall, a tree with lights on it in the hotel lobby, and the staff are wearing those red hats with white fur and pompons, chirping, “Merry Christmas” to me as I pass; they are feeling it more than I am, I think. It always feels strange to me to see a decorated conifer in a tropical country in December. If Linda were here, we’d go to Mass, as I’d like to see how it is done here. The Christmas Mass in Mzuzu, last year, led and directed by Father Richard (who baptized Linda’s first when she gave birth in Malawi in 1980), was a dramatic spectacle to behold. Wild music throughout, complete with ululation and drumming, costume changes, and a living creche with a baptism of a new-born baby boy named, you guessed it, Jesus. Probably 3 hours worth, never a dull moment. None of this nodding-off bringing-in-the-sheep.
I rose late, showered, and had both noodle soup (with chicken, garlic, napa cabbage, hot peppers, etc) and mohinga (fish stew with fried garlic and onions, parsley, fish cake, hot pepper flakes) for breakfast. I topped it off with slices of honeydew and watermelon to lower my temperature to survivable.
The Taw Win Garden Hotel on Pyay Road is well-located for me, equidistant between the Yangon Children’s Hospital and University of Medicine 1. The hotel appears to be newish and is suspended above 5 floors of shopping mall. I got my phone sorted—-SIM card and calling/data plans—at the phone store, bought a recently-written book on the history of Myanmar, and strolled to the above two worksites in order to orient myself. 20’ gradual walk to each.
Walking on busy Pyay Road I saw elderly couples shuffling along in longyis and sandals, groups of young women with thanaka cream on their cheeks chatting it up, numerous stray dogs appearing of similar parentage, and individuals or small groups moving very gradually on the hot 1PM sidewalks. Once I had discovered University of Medicine 1, I slipped into quiet, shady side streets. They were lined with small sidewalk restaurants, men sleeping on mats on the sidewalk, and one well-dressed man who squatted at the edge of the sidewalk to relieve his bladder. The advantage of a longyi! There were many taxi drivers, either snoozing in their parked cars or tooting to let me know they were available as they drove past. After one or two I stopped waving my hand “No”; they realize that if I don’t respond, I don’t want their services. I passed what must have been a factory or distributing point for “Raspberry Ketone Product 1200mg To Assist Weight Reduction”, as three or four cars advertising the supplement were parked together. Small Pharma. It was street life not unlike in Blantyre, although the streets are well-paved and it is a much more successful-appearing metropolis. There are many fewer people carrying heavy items on their shoulders. I passed a cluster of embassies for the republics of China, Egypt, Indonesia, and Malaysia. China had very beautiful gardens; Egypt looked the most down-at-the-heels, consistent with their lower GDP and correspondingly less of a presence in Myanmar. The National History Museum is nearby but had a sign that said, “The Museum Closes Today”, which I assume meant “Closed”. So I returned to my room, having completed a loop.
My hotel room is huge, with a king-sized bed, a massive walk-in shower and a nozzle to match, a couch and writing table, and a balcony with a view over trees, shorter buildings, and busy train tracks. A room with a view of the Shwedagon Pagoda costs $20 more per night. I figure I’ll just walk to it whenever I want. It must be two kilometers from here.
Cecily Borgstein, the elder daughter of our good friends in Malawi, has been working for an NGO here and has been so friendly and generous of her time. She found me a magnificent penthouse to rent , which was unfortunately a bit too distant for my walk-to-work plan. She left me a darling little spiral zip-up pouch with a wooden ballpoint pen inside as a Christmas gift. And she was willing to get me from the airport and to meet me today for a meal. I am so beat after my flight and sleep/wake dislocation that I plan to meet her tomorrow when I’ll be more fun.
The rest of today I’ll, well, rest. I’ll go to the market downstairs and get some fruit—mangosteens if in season. I’ll settle for mangos or most anything if the former aren’t available. Mangosteens are my favorite of all fruits: sweet and tart, very juicy, easily accessible. They are ubiquitous here when in season but not available in Malawi. The closest thing we had were lychee, which are similar but smaller and less flavorful. Then, later, I’ll get some supper, either in the hotel or at one of the many little restaurants in the mall.
Yangon is 12 ½ hours ahead of Bar Harbor, so it shouldn’t be difficult for Linda and I to keep in touch. My morning is her evening and vice versa. Six or 7 hours difference is much more difficult—excepting weekends, someone is either sleeping or working.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 