Myanmar - Like Love

The coincidence was quite spontaneous.

Our trip to Myanmar was completely spontaneous. One evening, while we were having dinner, I said, "Myanmar sounds interesting, let's go sometime." Dai, while chewing, replied, "Then let's book the plane tickets, sister." Trang didn't hesitate at all: "I'll go right away!"

Without any plan or research about the country, the group simply packed their bags and headed to the airport.

Myanmar isn't as idyllic and peaceful as people often portray it to be. The journey from the airport to Yangon was filled with honking horns and traffic jams. Somewhere, a man spat out his betel nut from the car window. I was shocked to learn that our group had been ripped off the moment we stepped off the plane, with a taxi fare from the airport to the city center costing 20,000 Kyat (approximately 400,000 VND) per person, instead of the usual 7,000 Kyat per trip (even cheaper if you booked a Grab).

The former capital of Yangon appears rustic, much like Saigon in the 1990s. Children, their faces smudged with dirt, freely play in the streets; vendors mix food with their bare hands. Somewhere, hushed conversations can be heard from an old apartment building strung with clothes…

Yangon was as beautiful as a poem.

Myanmar is full of narrow alleys. Walking along the moss-covered walls, you'll find street food stalls selling mangoes with chili salt, boiled water chestnuts, and grilled skewers of meat. Occasionally, you'll encounter groups of young novice monks in pink robes going on alms rounds, reciting prayers for peace. Although we didn't understand the meaning of the prayers, listening to the melodious, bird-like chanting made our first day in Myanmar peaceful and beautiful, like a poem.

The temple we visited in Yangon was small, not crowded with tourists, but thousands of pigeons gathered around it, perching on the ground and on the power lines at every street corner, looking from afar like a dark cloud hanging over the city. While Trang kept taking pictures of the birds, Mai was clattering around scattering food, and Dai quickly huddled in a corner because… he was afraid of the birds.

Remember to remove your shoes and socks when entering the temple, and you will be asked what day you were born to determine which deity you will pray to. Unlike Vietnam, which calculates birth dates according to the month, either lunar or solar, Myanmar calculates birth dates based on the day of the week. In Myanmar, it is believed that each birth date has its own meaning and personality. Each day of the week has a guardian Buddha, except for Wednesday, which has two Buddhas: one for Wednesday morning and one for Wednesday afternoon – known as Yar Hu or Rahu.

The Buddha statue that blesses those born on Sunday is a half-human, half-bird figure; the Buddha statue for Monday is a tiger; for Tuesday, a lion. Wednesday morning is an elephant with tusks, Wednesday afternoon is an elephant without tusks. Meanwhile, Thursday is symbolized by a mouse; Friday by a guinea pig; and Saturday by a dragon.

Without beginning or end

My journey exploring Myanmar, as Dai described it, was like getting lost in a story I'd read long ago but couldn't recall the details of. All that remained in my memory were names, shapes, and smells. I enjoyed the pointless conversations, the casual promises to share a bag of crab cakes, and the grumbling and complaining about being hungry.

Our days in Bagan were spent together, huddled under a small blanket on an ancient tower, watching the sunrise through hot air balloons, running around the Bagan Archaeological Zone, and visiting Old Bagan, New Bagan, and NangU.

I bought a stick of Thanaka, and it became a toy for the whole group. Initially, not many people were enthusiastic, because having a face covered in Thanaka looked a bit… dirty. But then, after learning that it was a "miracle" skincare remedy used by the people of Myanmar for 2000 years, the whole group gathered around, meticulously grinding the dried Thanaka wood on a gray stone slab. Then, they eagerly applied it to each other's cheeks, noses, and even eyelids.

There were those strange days, wandering through new lands, chatting without hesitation with strangers, excitedly participating in quizzes at a local bar, savoring the distinctive Shan noodles. Days of fighting over a cup of instant noodles, humming "Come Away With Me" (Nora John), opening the car roof to feel the wind and dust, lying down to gaze at the star-filled sky. Surely, those memories will never return. Like trying to hold sand in your hand, youth slips away. But the memories of the terrible singing of the boy sitting next to me, the smell of cigarette smoke from the girl with curly hair… remain.

The sky here is inexplicably captivating. On our last day in Myanmar, after visiting the white Hsinbyume Paya pagoda, we took a boat out into the middle of the river, sitting and watching the sunset silently through the Berlin Bridge, the world's longest teak bridge at 1.2 km, feeling time stand still in the wind.

And then he hummed a few verses that suited the scene and the mood:

When people are young

The heart is like a window.

Embrace so much wind

I wish I could go far away.

So far

When people are young

A simple young man - a little selfish.

Just need a job that provides a living wage.

Someone to love

And those little weekend trips.”

But Lan Tu Vien -

Article by: Phan Cac Truc

Photo: Thieu Cuong

The Thanh