Walking with George and Tony and Christopher, Rudyard, Orson, and Noel and Aung San Suu Kyi....

Burma was a few days ago…and I’m so happy I made this trip again.  A good friend advised me some time back that the people in Burma are wonderful, the food oily, the country troubled. But I find the food (especially the Yangon street food) to be delicious.  A pretty French woman asked me one evening (in earthy, broken English with a French accent) at the Strand Hotel's Sarkies Bar (an Orwell, Kipling, Noel Coward, Orson Welles, Christopher Hitchens hang-out-- very colonial), “You are one of the rich Americans, aren't you, but a bit on the sly?”  "Do I look sly?” I asked.  :-)

The Strand Hotel's Sarkies Bar

Two friends stroll along with me as I wander down the congested streets and alleyways of old Yangon, each day hot and sticky and usually with gushes of monsoon rain pouring down on me between bright, searing stretches of sunlight. At least in spirt my two friends are with me, because the big C took one of them away not long ago, and the other sadly took his own life near Paris just last year.  Now only their writings and clips, mostly from C-Span or CNN’s Parts Unknown on YouTube, keep me close to them; yet, they both still inspire me. But I only knew one of them personally though--sipping on Angkor draught beer with him while listening to a very good local rock band one evening in Phnom Penh’s Oscar’s Bar on Street 104, and briefly one afternoon to satisfy his curiosity, the two of us speeding down a busy Phnom Penh boulevard on motor bikes to sample a ‘Happy’ pizza (you can see Tony in a humorous moment indulging in shredded cannabis on a cheesy pie in one of his travel episodes <on YouTube>).  

My friend Tony and his 'Happy' pizza

Rushing streams of street water fill the cuffs of my jeans, but the rain is comforting as my drenched clothes cling with coolness--my big red hotel umbrella without a clue. 

Burma is a dark and politically troubled country and remains very Orwellian (Big Brother and all).  But while it is optimistically opening up, eyes are still everywhere, and going to prison for speaking out in public (or even in private) is a real possibility--so many have already served time in those grim Burmese prisons where the fish soup only includes the fish heads and tails.

I must be careful in communicating on the internet.  A brief flicker on my gmail had me shifting to Word.

An ongoing post.  I rarely venture into political talk—I’m not good at it anyway. Just be decent I say, and the indecent will fall away—the insecure will lose their grip, and your friends will remain securely fastened. I think Sally Smisson and good ole Mrs. Fountain, and Mrs. Stell, and Mr. Bragg and Herr Watts would concur (and others, of course).

I’ll add some more later—I’m off to the airport now.  I know a few of us commenters would really like to hear some stories from our classmates.

Take care—Dan(ny)

I hope Aung San Suu Kyi is still the very brave leader for the oppressed Burmese and has been misunderstood on the Rohingya horror.

Aung San Suu Kyi

George Orwell

Anthony Bourdain

Christopher Hitchens

Noel Coward

Orson Welles

Rudyard Kipling

Doublethink….War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, and Ignorance is Strength

I'll add more later....A few of us would really like to hear more from our classmates. 

And visit Burma (Myanmar)--The Burmese will put a smile on your face. 

https://youtu.be/W8Dg9T14c4k

Mandalay

 

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
    Come you back to Mandalay,
    Where the old Flotilla lay:
    Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
    On the road to Mandalay,
    Where the flyin'-fishes play,
    An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat — jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
    Bloomin' idol made o'mud —
    Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd —
    Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
    On the road to Mandalay . . .

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "~Kulla-lo-lo!~"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the ~hathis~ pilin' teak.
    Elephints a-pilin' teak
    In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
    Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
    On the road to Mandalay . . .

But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
    No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
    But them spicy garlic smells,
    An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
    On the road to Mandalay . . .

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
    Beefy face an' grubby 'and —
    Law! wot do they understand?
    I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
    On the road to Mandalay . . .

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be —
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
    On the road to Mandalay,
    Where the old Flotilla lay,
    With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
    On the road to Mandalay,
    Where the flyin'-fishes play,
    An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

The header graphic is a photograph of Moulmein Harbour as viewed from the great Kyaikthanlan Pagoda in Burma, taken in the 1870's by Samuel Bourne (1832-1912). © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes