17 July 2019
[Above photo: Waterfall at a shrine outside Pyn Oo Lwin]
I’ve returned from a 5 day trip to northern Shan State. Yesterday, Tuesday, was the Full Moon of Waso and Friday is Martyr’s Day so I cancelled classes for this week. We’ll have clinic on Wednesday and Thursday, as I don’t want to interfere with the momentum of referrals and follow-ups, and those psychiatrists who are local can come in to run it. The idea of a 1-3 week holiday during the year for government workers, including physicians, is unheard of.
Before I left Yangon I wanted to pay Jose for the carpets I bought—small, stunning Afghanis—but when I arrived at his home, my wallet was missing. That gave me pause, since it meant that for the time being I couldn’t withdraw money from ATM’s or charge anything. I walked it back and my best guess was that the wallet fell out into the mud as I paid a taxi driver and rushed to get my umbrella up in a downpour; I was visiting a Dutch psychologist who has been involved with child protection here for years. The other possibility was that I somehow left it at the library. Since I wear a longyi, I have no pockets and am not yet confident enough to stick it in my waistband like the younger crowd. So I keep it in a zippered pocket in my backpack with my phone and surplus cash. Stupidly, I had both of my ATM cards in it. I have friends to borrow from in the short term, I can get dollars to convert to kyat from the Embassy, and can have new cards sent by Linda via DHL within a couple of weeks, all a nuisance for me and others. Still, it was unnerving, just as I was setting out on a trip.
The next day as we pulled up to the UniMed 1 cafeteria, Dr. Gyi’s phone went off. I’d left my wallet on a bench in the lobby of the library and a student turned it in. All intact, even the $100 bill I keep for emergencies (like this one!). When I returned home I took everything out of the wallet except my Visa, one ATM, my Maine driver’s license, and the $100 bill. Was my Unconscious expressing some ambivalence about the trip? Was I just impulsively, inattentively rushing? I didn’t feel great anxiety after the initial discovery I’d lost it, but when I retrieved it, I became aware how much I was holding in.
Dr. Thura Lin, one of my students who lives in Mandalay, took me under his wing, picked me up in a taxi, and the driver got us to the bus station after an hour of wild riding on unlit back streets in a downpour to avoid the traffic mess. Thura had a bite and I had a beer in a little dive he uses at Aung Mingalar Bus Terminal, and at 9:15PM we boarded a huge, new, comfortable bus. An aisle wide enough to dance in. Two spacious, comfortable seats on one side of it, one on the other. A polyester throw. Footrests. Snacks and bottled water. We slept for four hours, stopped for a toilet and mohinga break at a large, open bus stop dining room near Nay Pyi Taw, and then slept another 5. A little 3-wheeled motorcycle taxi zipped us to his childhood home, where I had tea and met his 3 sisters, father, and 12yo nephew.
Dr. Thura had planned an outing for us. His uncle drove us to Pyn Oo Lwin, nephew in tow. The town is at 1300 meters and was founded in 1896 by the British for their officers to escape the Mandalay heat. We toured caves, temples, and waterfalls, a pretty standard itinerary in Myanmar, had lunch, and they dropped me at my hotel and returned to Mandalay. My hotel was a kilometer out of town and set in lush gardens. It was very Bernard Maybeck-looking, with lots of dark wood, open beams, etc.
I went for a walk on a path beside a nearby lake and a jogger started a conversation with me. He is a 51yo retired school teacher who lives off the interest of his savings, drives a $100,000 Mercedes, and was involved for 4 years in something shady which he said he finally couldn’t stomach. Despite the alarm bells, he was an interesting guy and we had supper together while he told me tales of his travels. He’s been to Italy several times, and Oktoberfest 3x. More to the point, he has trekked and climbed a lot in Myanmar and gave me a list of great-sounding possibilities here.
The next day I walked to, and through, the National Botanical Gardens for 5 hours. It was magnificent and well-maintained by the Burmese since the British left. Wonderful formal flower beds, massive timber bamboo and teak groves, two enclosures with Takin in them, and so forth, all around a long lake. Takin are an Eastern Himalayan ungulate found in Bhutan, China, and Northern Myanmar. They look like a small bison crossed with a wildebeest. The aviary, a net-covered acre of trees, had interesting birds, but seemed miserably confining. The butterfly and beetle museum was astounding to me, especially as I am finishing Half Earth by EO Wilson about the current massive extinction of species worldwide.
I walked a few miles to the main market, having only one dicey encounter with a pack of 5 angry dogs. A woman came out of a nearby house and they, recognizing her, slunk away. By now it was drizzling but I had my trusty umbrella. Pyn Oo Lwin is known for its sweaters; I’m not sure why as they are machine-made but I got a great thin wool one for $3 and a heavier woolen turtleneck for $5. Hard to resist, no bargaining. I secured my seat on the train for the next day and taxied back to the hotel for the evening.
My cab arrived on schedule at 7:15AM the following day and took me to the train station. This train line was built by the British, opening in 1903. It contains the Gowteik Viaduct, which was the second highest bridge in the world when it was constructed and remains the longest in Myanmar. The train cars are likewise of ancient vintage. As the journey to Hsi Paw started, the track was so uneven that the train rocked back and forth violently, tossing luggage into the aisles. The viaduct is a marvel and we crossed it at walking pace. Trains are, for me, the most interesting form of travel, although sailing is a close second.
There was chatting among the passengers, both Myanmar and foreigners, and I saw a couple I’d supped with a month or so ago, travelling the same route. The bushes beside the track scraped the side of the train and whapped leaves off into the permanently opened windows. It was green beyond imagination. I felt like I was bathing in chlorophyll and realized how much I’ve missed it being in Yangon.
I didn’t take the time to explore Hsi Paw, another British hill town and site of a Shan prince’s “palace”, a large, colonial-style house. The town is set in a valley ringed with mountains and surrounded by rice paddies. I was whisked in the back of a truck to Mr. Charles’ Riverside Lodge, 2 ½ miles out of town. Mr. Charles, himself, was there to greet me, a genial and clever hotelier. Now in his 70’s, he lets his daughters run the place and they have extremely high standards for staff, food, cleanliness, etc. My cottage had a deck 30 feet above the river amid banana trees and other lushness. I didn’t want to leave, sitting at the pretty teak-slab table on the deck, reading. However, I decided to take a trek the next day and arranged for a guide. More later, in Part 2.
I think the surprisingly progressive agenda of “The Squad” is frightening to many, although it all seems way overdue to me. The bickering among the Dems doesn’t worry me as we’ll have only one nominee at the end and everyone, hopefully, will get behind her. I think it is not surprising to have such struggles, given how ambitious and necessary the agendas are. A demagogue is extremely dangerous, however, so we cannot screw this up.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 