Through the Streets of Yangon: The Shwedagon Pagoda
After spending more than the half a day at the Royal Asia Hospital, we are incredibly hungry. That’s why we choose Wai Wais Noodle Place. If I had known that Wai Wais Noodle Place was on the roof of a 12-story building without an elevator, I would have thought about this meal a little more carefully. But while you’re at it, you don’t just give up. The ascent is worthwhile, because we are the only guests and sit on a small, nicely planted roof terrace on which a cool wind blows. The food is great, too. I order mashed potatoes, among other things, which are more reminiscent of a large, thick potato pancake and comes with fresh mint leaves.
The only thing that really bothers me is that 4 meters away from me a small Burmese sits on a tiny wooden board on 4 rusty steel arms on the outside of the facade of the neighbouring house. He is also busy unscrewing these rusty steel arms. I can’t look at it, that makes me so incredibly nervous that I almost fall off my chair and would like to get him down there myself. Between the two high-rise buildings there is a gap about 50 cm wide and it goes 12 floors into the depth.
Did you know that in Myanmar a waiter is not waved but snogged for payment? Yes really, if you want something, then you make a kind of smooching noise here and immediately the attention is sure. At the beginning this is quite strange, because you don’t want to be rude. But once you get used to it, it’s fun.
Stickers in the park
After lunch we really want to take a taxi back to the hotel, because Mirko still can’t walk properly. But it is not that easy to get one here. Despite Google Maps 4 taxi drivers do not know the destination. Two corners down, we finally find someone who knows it.
In the afternoon we stroll through the park opposite our hotel. There is a lake with a jetty and you have a wonderful view of the Swedagon Pagoda. Just every Burmese who cares about himself does a selfie here. There’s no getting through here because of all these photos and selfies.
As a foreigner you have to pay a small tip at the entrance and if you want to take a camera with you, then you have to pay an additional tip. But we also get a nice orange sticker for that. Or as Mirko calls him from now on: Jewish star.
It’s really a bit strange, because only the western tourists get an orange sticker, the local ones all have a red one. Of course, this does not mean everyone, because if you enter the park through a side entrance, you do not have to pay anything. I should have read the guide. I don’t know what this is good for, it’s not like you can’t identify us as foreigners.
The next morning I am at the breakfast buffet at 7:30 a.m. sharp, because there is cheese here. Due to acute cheese deficiency I creep around the cheese plate about 3 times and eat all existing cheese from the tin. Besides, I have to fight hard not to smuggle a small secret supply of sliced cheese into my room for later. I’ve never tasted cheese never tasted better than after three weeks in Myanmar.
The Shwedagon Pagoda
Then we make our way to Swedagon Pagoda, the absolute sanctuary and landmark of the city. A huge pagoda covered with 10 tons of gold and on the top is a diamond the size of a lemon. In general, the superstructure on top is the purest jewelry shop. Rings, chains, small bells of gold, set with rubies, sapphires and jade. And all because Buddha’s hair is under the temple. That’s what the legend says.
For a few kyat, we’ll take a guide. The nice lady named Zozo takes us on a short journey through history and religion. First she asks for our birth dates and checks on which day of the week we were born. Because in Myanmar everyone knows the day of the week on which they were born. In contrast to our week, however, Myanmar Week does not have 7 but 8 days, Wednesday is 2 times, in the form of Wednesday morning and Wednesday evening. This is because on whether you are born in the morning or in the evening you have a different character. The evening guy is a little angrier than the morning guy and I could swear Mirko was born on a Wednesday night.
When we arrive at the Tuesday shrine it is my turn to wash the statue according to Buddhist tradition. Together with a few other Burmese and monks I now tip 3 cups each over the Buddha, then the statue behind it and finally over the golden elephant in front of it. After that, I get to make a wish. And so do I, of course.
After that I can ring the temple bell, you can always ring it when something memorable has happened. Since Zozo is of the opinion that we have already married our country, I may ring the bell for our wedding 3 times. Well, well. And after that, I can give wind to the Buddha statue. Above a huge statue is a fan, which can be operated with a rope on the side.
After our small tour it is almost noon and the sun is vertical in the sky. We walk at a snail’s pace through the streets of Yangon, at about 590 degrees and ‑3 shadows. The sun is burning on my foot without mercy, so I think the plastic threads in my flip flop are melting and burning irrevocably into my foot. Forever! Besides, I’m about to dehydrate, if I don’t get water in the next 3 minutes, I’ll die of thirst.
Next: Yangons Cicular train