A pin in the neck

For the past several weeks, Claudine and myself have been going to see a doctor on a weekly basis. This is not because we have become paranoid hypochondriacs, but because the doctor in question practices Chinese medicine and acupuncture. Claudine heard about this doctor from a friend of ours who has been going to his surgery for the past 25 years. A bad shoulder was the reason that prompted Claudine to begin seeing him, and a neck injury plus stomach complaint in my case. 

To reach his surgery, one must take the Silom line of Bangkok's sky train to its terminus on the opposite side of the Chao Phraya river. From here, it's a 20 min taxi ride out into the suburbs of Bangkok. On alighting from the taxi, one must step out into a bustling road (a good life insurance helps or a Thai to step out in front of you) and cross to a rather nondescript shop front. I use the word bustling, because it's not just a busy road, but a road full of stalls selling everything from hand-woven table mats, to every kind of vegetable, fish, and meat - all covered in flies to add a finishing touch to the presentation of the various wares. Imagine heath and safety in amongst that lot! Peppered around are shops selling Buddhist paraphernalia. There are several wats (temples) near by. 

On sliding the grimy door open, one's eyes are met with what at first appears to be a shop filled with an assortment of different artifacts - a TV, statues, various bottles staring out from high cabinets. Around the walls and on top of shelves, one can see a mixture of images ranging from diagrams of the anatomy, portraits of monks, and the Thai royal family - not literally, but in images.  A few photographs of the doctor in his youth also grace the wall. A tall clock sounds out the Westminster chimes. Overall, the feeling is of a junk shop filled with redundant collectables rather than a surgery. 

From behind an ageing screen, a small, shuffling 77 year old gentleman appears. 

We're greeted with the traditional Thai greeting "Sawadee krap" along with the wai (hands placed together as if in prayer). He summons us to sit down and proceeds to address us in his best English.  

He's been practicing in these premises for the past 45 years and lives above the surgery. He came to Thailand after his father decided to emigrate here, only leaving for the necessary years to pursue medical studies in Bejing and Hong Kong.  

He begins with some standard examinations before proceeding to acupuncture - feeling both wrists to gauge the heart rate, inspection of the tongue with a small torch. In Chinese medicine, the tongue plays an important role in suggesting a diagnosis of a maladie. Practitioners believe that each area of the tongue represents a different part of the body e.g. tip of the tongue: heart, center of the tongue: spleen and stomach etc. 

On completion of these examinations, you’re invited to follow him behind the screen, the area behind being not much bigger that a small bathroom. This is the area in which he has his treatment table. A small Chinese spirit temple adorned with lights and burning incense (to keep the spirits happy and procure their protection of the premises) sits on the floor in the corner.

Next, it’s to the treatment table for the fun part – the placing of the needles.

For anyone who doesn’t know (or who’s afraid to ask), the general theory of acupuncture is based on the premise that bodily functions are regulated by the flow of energy. Acupuncture aims to correct imbalances in the flow by stimulation of anatomical locations on or under the skin called acupuncture points. These points are connected by channels known as meridians.

I used to be skeptical about such treatments. This was until the moment that I developed excruciating back pain in Geneva. I went for one treatment for the back and have never had a problem since! The treatment here is working for both Claudine and myself, so there must be something in this treatment.

He usually places about eight acupuncture needles into me. I lay staring at the surgery's water stained ceiling - I must resemble a large pincushion. You hardly feel a thing! After about 10 minutes (during which he’s in the back rooms preparing the special medicine.) he returns and removes the needles. The treatment on the energy flow continues its work for the rest of the day.

He gives us our medication – three bottles of liquid - the contents like a cross between tar and liquorice. As the accompaniment to this, sixteen small tablets (resembling mouse droppings) are to be taken twice daily.

Last Saturday’s treatment finished with a treatment of another kind – a tuk-tuk ride in the fresh air………………

Shelter for the spirits

Despite Bangkok being a modern, cosmopolitan city with skyscrapers, an excellent skytrain and underground system and mega-malls that cater to a consumerism culture like those of most large cities, it’s still full of surprises that give it its own unique edge.

One of the sights one cannot fail to see when out on a stroll are the spirit houses. These spirit houses are common throughout Thailand (as they are throughout many South-Asian countries) and can be found outside almost every house and building. We have one in the garden of our apartment building.

These doll house-sized homes are set atop a pedestal and placed in an auspicious location, which allows residents, workers and others to offer prayers and small gifts to appease spirits, often represented by doll-sized figures or even zebras! Here is another spirit house at our local market.

Note the votive offer of fizzy drinks as well as incense! These houses offer shelter for the spirits who can cause problems for the living if not appeased. I suppose it's not dissimilar to the idea of having roadside shrines of the saints which can be seen in France and Ireland etc. which offer a chance for prayer and protection to the passing traveller.

It's moving to see the daily worship and prayer take place at these spirit houses and shrines on the streets.  A few weeks back, I even saw a massive statue of Buddha on the back of a pick-up truck driven by two monks! They appeared to be stopping in different parts of the street to allow passing pedestrians the chance to pause for a moment of prayer and offering. Such are the many sights one sees on the way to work!

Myanmar Travels - Part 2

Tuesday 27th December 2011  

  

Heho - Aungban - Pindaya  

  

We left our hotel early and got a taxi to the domestic terminal at Yangon International Airport. We were to take the Air Yangon (the only Myanmar airline approved by the UN) flight to Heho which is about an hour's journey North. The flight is a twice daily city hopper calling at Heho, Mandalay, Bagan then returning to Yangon.   

  

After an uneventful flight, we touched down at Heho where we were met by the rain and cold. We were delighted to see our hosts for the next two days, our good friends, Tac and his daughter Iris. Tac is a native of Yangon and retired from his position as Head of Program at UNDP in Yangon in 2007 and moved back to Shan State, where he still has family. Iris works at a communications company in Kala Lumpa. She was visiting for the holiday season.  

  

Heho is a small rural airport located in the heart of the Shan Tribe territory. With all the recent changes, the region is now under police control and safe. Tac confirmed this. Even though we'd arrived on a domestic flight, our passport details and visa numbers were noted down by hand in a slow and scrupulous manner. How they hope to keep track of everyone is anyone's guess!  

  

After loading the luggage into Tac's new-ish four-wheel drive car, we were on the road through the rain and mist. It's only on leaving Yangon that it's possible to really see the lack of development in this great country. The countryside in this region comprises rolling hills, much of which have suffered excessive deforestation over the past 20 years. Attempts are being made to replant the forests and one could see where this was taking place. Houses were simple shack-like affairs and villages are set back from the main roads, the idea being that you build your villages closest to the fields and more importantly, the nearest source of water. Juxtaposed to this were the occasional signs of affluence – Tac pointed out a massive new hospital, built and run by the military. To my eyes, it looked like a 19th century asylum and built to intimate. Tac also pointed out one of the mansions belonging to one of the military junta’s cronies.  

  

I wasn't prepared for the roads! The roads contained more holes than a colander and the driving rules seemed to be left to the individual. One rule that every one seems to observe is the use of the horn. I gathered (I was afraid to ask) that one must sound your horn if you intend to overtake. Whether this is to warn the driver whom you are to overtake of your intentions, or to warn any oncoming traffic, I never did find out. In any case, it would have been possible to write a symphony or at least a large-scale piano sonata from the assortment of sounds. Movement was slow due to the state of the roads. At least there was much laughter and good conversation, occasionally interrupted by Iris's pleas of "are we nearly there yet?" and "I'm hungry!" This was only done in jest towards her father however!   

  

After a good 1h 1/2 drive, the pangs of hunger set in as we arrived at the small town of Aungban. Tac suggested we go to a good Chinese restaurant that he occasionally patronises. On turning into the car park, we were greeted with a sea of police cars and policemen. It was not that there had been trouble, but that the local police chiefs had the same idea as us and had virtually taken over the restaurant for their lunch.   

  

While we could have eaten there, we thought it better to find somewhere else and let them have their free lunch in peace - some things don't change quickly. Tac knew another tea room in the town where we would be able to eat a paid lunch. Tac ordered a selection of Shan food comprising chicken, beef and noodles etc. The restaurant was freezing, the only source of heat being the fire stove on which the food was cooked and coffee made. A small route march was required to find the toilets. After negotiating my way past old car tyres (no doubt brought to a premature end by the perforated roads) and the chickens - I wondered if I'd just consumed some of their siblings or cousins, I found the traditional toilet.   

  

The only slight discomfort I felt in the restaurant was being stared at by the waitress. I took this to mean that she was either being flirtatious, thought I was some sort of freak, or was wondering if I was that person she'd seen on TV. No matter what state of development a country is in, it seems no one is without their TV, even in Myanmar. 

  

We set off again on the slow road. 

We called in at a local village half way to Pindana because Iris needed to use the facilities there. Tac was not sure what arrangements they would have in the small tea room he knew, but we made a stop as it was the last place before reaching our destination. The village was quite a hive of activity with its market and various places of trade in full swing. Two large wooden carts, pulled by oxen (a common sight in rural Myanmar) wheeled their way past the car. Claudine pointed out the large flat screen TV in the cafe. Tac explained that it was one of the many new products being made and brought to Myanmar by the Chinese. Is was strange to see the lack of development sitting side by side with the latest technology. 

After another 1 ½ hours drive (passing by Tac’s village), we arrived at our destination of Pindaya around dusk. It’s a sizable town with a large lake and a long main street which hugs the lake.  

  

We first checked into our hotel – the ‘Golden Caves Hotel’. We were warmly (a good thing since it was still very cold, wet, and misty) by the staff. The hotel in owned and run by one of Tac’s friends. It was basic but clean which is the most important thing. After dropping our baggage off in our room, we just had time to drive up the hill and through the mist to see Pindaya’s the most famous attraction -  The Golden Caves. The Golden Caves of Pindaya are a Buddhist pilgrimage site and a top attraction.  After the steep climb from the car park, were we confronted with the sight of a large spider being shot at with a bow and arrow by a bejewelled man. I was worried for a moment that we had been brought to some sort of amusement park, but Tac explained that one of the legends of Pindaya concerns the story of seven princesses who were captured by a large spider while bathing in the lake and who were later rescued by Prince Kummabhaya of Yawnghwe. Surely a book there for someone or a Harry Potteresque blockbuster?  

  

In contrast to the outdoors, the caves were pleasantly warm. The three large caves contain over 8,000 statues and images of Buddha. It is simply breathtaking to see. Many of the statues date from the 18th and 19th centuries. Since then, many other statues and images have been placed there by different donors. Here are just a few photos which give an impression, but like many things, one must visit to fully appreciate the experience.  

  

After a good hour in the caves, we made our way back to the hotel. Tac and Iris were heading back home (about a 45 min drive away in the pouring rain) to help Tac’s wife prepare the meal we were to share with them the following day. They promised they would be back at 10am the following morning to collect us. Just as they were leaving, the lights in the entire village went out! Tac explained that this is a common occurrence when the grid is overloaded - perhaps too many people watching sky news (yes, its one of the main satellite channels available in this region - it's true!) at the same time.  

We waved goodbye and set off down the village street in the darkness, gingerly avoiding the potholes and mini ponds in the road. As we reached the nearby restaurant, the lights came on again. The restaurant was certainly one of the best in Pindaya. Myanmar chicken curry and noodles were consumed. 

On returning to the hotel, Claudine requested a flashlight as she had already suspected what was coming. As we climbed into bed, with torrential rain pouring on the tin roof, the lights went out again, came on, went out etc. You can imagine the rest, and the need for a flashlight! Occasionally, one would hear the hotel's generator burst into life, sounding like a cross between one of those small, ancient Fiats and a lawnmower. We both fell asleep exhausted, me with memories of childhood in Britain during the late 1970s........... 

Myanmar Travels - Part 1

Monday 26th December 2011 

Bangkok - yangoon

Claudine and myself left early (much to the chagrin of Olaf) to catch the early morning flight from Bangkok to Myanmar. The flight is a short hop lasting only 1h 15min. On arriving at Yangon International Airport, we had the long wait through immigration and customs. Almost all the official government documents, checks, paper-work etc is still done by hand, making much work for the employees and causing long queues.  

On clearing customs, we were met by our good friend Thida (who works for the Anglican Church of Myanmar) and her son, Andrew.

Claudine went with Thida to rent a mobile phone. Meanwhile, I had a full and frank exchange of views with the moneychangers on the subject of queues and proper signage.    

The Burmese exchange in US dollars, but accept Singapore dollars or Euros in exchange for their national currency, the Kyat (pronounced chat – as in “to have a chat”). The gentlemen in front of me (who I think was Eastern European), was attempting to change his US dollars.

The Burmese will only exchange a dollar bill that is in mint condition, that is to say, no marks, tears or the slightest creases are accepted. This is a rule set by the Central Bank of Myanmar. The US dollars of the gentlemen in front of me were all turned down. After a 20 min wait (having, with several others, queued up at the wrong counter), I managed to exchange some of our US dollars. The airport offers the best rate – around 807 Kyats to the dollar. Although this is not the official international rate, the Burmese seem to create their own black market rate.    

   

Claudine didn’t manage to rent a mobile phone as all their stock was already rented out (this being prime tourist season), so she managed to get a chip. Thida kindly lent us one of her phones with a charger so that we would have some form of contact during our stay, although the network is not great. Thida had hired a taxi for the day to make getting around easier. We waited some time for the driver to arrive, and finally got on the road after spending the best part of two hours at the airport.

The lack of development in Yangon, alongside what’s being developed was immediately evident on leaving the airport. For a start, the cars are ancient Toyotas (our taxi was an antique with a front passenger door almost falling off), with what looked suspiciously like parts hanging on for dear life. It was only later in the day that I realized the dashboard of our taxi had no needles to tell you how fast you were going or how much fuel you had – the driver must have had a good feel for speed and fuel consumption! The driver was an acquaintance of Thida’s work colleague and explained that he rents the car for around $1,000 a month so he can run his taxi business – a massive amount, particularly considering the state of the car.     

   

The road into central Yangon was punctuated by run-down houses, shops, and apartment blocks. In juxtaposition to this, there were many newly constructed houses (more like mansions really) and business centers. With their characterless appearances and freshly rendered exteriors, they showed signs of the future and perhaps the prosperity to come for some. The development being brought into the country is so far, not a contribution from countries in the Western world, but the Chinese. 

In Myanmar, the Chinese are not coming, but have come, with money, and much of it. About 80% of the tourism here is made up from Chinese visitors, followed by (it seemed to me) the French and Germans.  The Chinese are currently buying up Myanmar. This is a source of worry to many of the Burmese people who are keen to get the Western world more involved in the development of their country – hence why Hilary Clinton’s recent visit to Myanmar was welcomed and seen as an encouraging sign – or more likely that it will potentially put the brakes on the Chinese perhaps.   

  

After a 25min drive from the airport, we arrived at our hotel, the Park Royal Hotel which is one of the better hotels in Yangon. After checking in and dropping our things off, Thida asked us where we wanted to go. I suggested going to see Yangon’s Holy Trinity Anglican Cathedral before going to lunch.  

On arriving at the Anglican cathedral, it seemed that the gates to the compound were padlocked, but the taxi driver leaped out and within seconds the gates swung open. 

While Thida went off to find the Dean and ask permission to enter the cathedral, Claudine and myself walked around taking photos. I found a war memorial in one corner and Claudine found Santa in another.  

Next, we were introduced to the Dean (he remembered Claudine as they’d met on a previous visit) who was having a rest after the busy Christmas period. Lying in his hammock with the newspaper and puppy in his lap, it seemed he was having a good time, although he does work hard.  

The interior of the cathedral is plain, but has an intimate atmosphere, while as the same time giving the feel of a cathedral, with its rose window and wide aisles. I looked for the organ but the only instrument to be seen was a rather honky-tonk piano on which I tried some Debussy. Thida told us that an electronic keyboard with an organ sound is brought out and attached to an amplifier for big occasions. An occasionally music group play for the 60 to 70 people who make up the Sunday morning congregation. I could see clearly on the left-hand side of the choir where an organ chamber had been prepared, but I suspect, that war and other factors prevented the installation of an instrument. 

The cathedral also has a flourishing choir judging from the choir robes in the north choir aisle.  

After leaving and saying our good byes to the Dean, we went to a local Chinese restaurant near to the Diocese of Myanmar’s offices called the Oriental House Restaurant where we enjoyed Dim Sum.  Over lunch, we spoke about all the positive changes which are happening in the country and Thida spoke of her hopes for her two children. The one positive thing that the military junta had done was to change the name of the country back to Myanmar, or to give it its full title, the Union of Myanmar. Burma is really the colloquial name for the Bamar tribe who are the majority ethnic group. The name Burma was brought in under British colonial rule. Myanmar is the literary name for the Bamar, so Thida explained that a wrong had been corrected. 

After lunch, and a short walk, we arrived at the headquarters of the Anglican Church of Myanmar where Thida has her office.  The compound composes several meeting rooms, conference halls etc. where the diocese hold their training events. The Archbishops' residence is also on the compound. 

On the ground floor of Thida’s office building are monastic style cells which give the diocesan bishops the where to lay their heads when they descend on Yangoon.   

There was a least one familiar face to be seen in Thida’s office!   

   

The taxi driver met us at the compound and drove us back to the hotel for a rest before picking us up again at 4.30pm. This time, we were joined by Thida, Andrew and her daughter, Mary. Thida’s husband had been hoping to make it, but he was still travelling back from somewhere. We were on our way to see and experience one of Myanmar’s most sacred sights and surely one of the wonders of the world – the Shwedagon Padgoda. It’s impossible to describe in words the wonder and awe of this place. You simply have to visit it to appreciate it.    

   

The pagoda is surrounded by many smaller temples and shrines. Monks sit around talking, praying (using a sort of rosary), and taking their calls on their mobiles. Meanwhile, families and tourists walk around, friends meet and the whole place has a wonderful calm despite the numbers of people. I imagine the naves of medieval cathedrals were like this at one time. Thida expressed that perhaps this is why some churches are empty as they do not provide an open environment where people can meet on an everyday basis.  After all, even though we were welcomed, we had to ask someone’s permission to enter the cathedral.