Like most travellers to Myanmar (or Burma depending on your political frame of reference), our trip had the potential of being precluded by an ethical dilemma as to whether or not we should be visiting at all. We obviously did (and do) not want to legitimize a military regime that has refused to relinquish power to the overwhelmingly and freely elected National League for Democracy (NLD) candidate in 1990. Apparently, they are still working out the details of the new constitution they promised...17 years later. In the meantime, they control every aspect of the Myanmar society and all the money that flows from it. Aung San Suu Kyi, the NLD leader (currently under house arrest, after already being freed from her initial house arrest from 1989 through 1995), who was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her efforts for a free Myanmar, has asked that foreigners wait to visit a "free Myanmar".

After talking with several other travelers who recently returned from trips through Myanmar and raved about it, we decided we would go with the understanding that we could direct our tourist dollars to the locals and avoid government run organizations. This proved to be extremely naive and nearly impossible to accomplish. It is easy to avoid government run airlines, trains, buses, hotels, restaurants and travel agencies, but some things are unavoidable. For example, there is a fee imposed on all foreigners traveling to the most popular destinations, like Bagan and Inle Lake. They set up what looks like a border crossing where the bus pulls over and you (the foreigner) are made to get out to pay the fee while the locals look on in a bored curiosity. In a larger and more pervasive scale, we also learned that opening and operating a business, large or small, requires contacts and bribes to the military/government officials. So, directly or indirectly, they find a way grab hold of your tourist dollars. Although the people of Myanmar are forbidden to talk to foreigners about the government, much less criticize it, we met many locals eager for such a conversation, albeit surreptitiously. One such individual was a jovial, motivated and well-educated man who owned and operated a small restaurant made of bamboo (where we ate every night because of the fascinating conversation and incredible guacamole) and a computer learning center (four computers in an adjoining room to the restaurant) along with his brothers and sisters. Their goal being to help educate as many members of their community as possible.
During our evening chats over dinner, he patiently and succinctly explained the situation in Myanmar to us and allayed our concerns about visiting Myanmar against Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi's wishes. He believed that educated and well-meaning visitors to Myanmar are helping to shrink the enormous gap between the rich and poor and are helping to develop and expand the small middle class. In his opinion, it is this slowly expanding middle class that will lead the charge for change.


Hopefully, he is right.

Observing a day in the life in Myanmar...(more to come)...

Happy New Year! . . .
Time for us to say farewell to Thailand and "Mingalaba" to Myanmar (Burma).

He Said:

After 35 years of listening to my father say, "Let me meditate on that", in response to our urgent childhood inquiries such as, "Can we have banana splits for dinner?", or other pressing matters of that nature, I finally understand what he meant.

I must admit there are a few discrepancies in our meditation techniques. While I attempt to wrap myself in the lotus position without dislocating my hips and knees in pursuit of spiritual enlightenment, my father's preferred position was in his arm chair. He would recline back in his chair, close his eyes and within moments fall into a deep meditative state. As John, Rebecca and I eagerly awaited his profound insight and answers to our nagging questions, we often noted the occasional but none-the-less startling snorting noises coming from his general direction and a hint of a small pool of drool collecting at the corner of his mouth (both clear signs of his deep meditative state). It was usually around this time that our mother would walk into the living room and say, "John, go to bed". In his meditative trance, he would mumble something to her about, "...just resting my eyes", then turning to us he would say, "Ask your mother".

Nestled on top of a modest mountain overlooking the city of Chiang Mai, is the glistening golden temple of Doi Suthep, the crown jewel of temples in Thailand. It was here that we decided to do a ten day Vipassana meditation retreat after Jen had such a positive experience during her twenty one day meditation retreat. Although it resembles a Thai Buddhist version of Disneyland during the day with the hoards of tourists snapping photos and burning incense, it is the most peaceful place imaginable before dawn and after dusk. Between the hours of 6-10pm, the golden glow of the temple grounds fades giving way for the subtler celestial light of the rising moon. The monks can be heard reciting their reverberating chants in Pali beautifully accompanied by the symphony of bells surrounding the chedi, which are brilliantly conducted by the elevating winds.
Although I was a bit skeptical of spending ten mute days waking up at the un-Godly hour of 4:00am to practice "Loving Kindness" followed by seemingly endless hours of sitting, standing, walking and lying (sleeping in my case) meditation, with no food allowed after 12:00 noon, I still thought it would be a good experience. I was wrong. It was an excellent experience and far better and more difficult than I expected.

I may not have achieved enlightenment, discovered the universal truth of life, or learned how to end all suffering, but, perhaps, I will be a bit more mindful as I walk along the daily path of life.

Some people wondered why I would want to spend 3 weeks at a temple getting up at 4:00a.m., eating only two vegetarian meals with no solid foods after 12 noon, and talking only when necessary (which those who know me realize that is quite difficult for me) to practice meditation. Those same people must have thought I lost my mind when I voluntarily went back for ten more days only three weeks later. Living up at Doi Suthep was a wonderful experience for me. The peace and quiet without the temptation to talk on the phone, use the internet, read a book or the newspaper is an amazing feeling, if not addictive. After being in the busy, smoggy city of Chiang Mai for three weeks I was excited to return to my peaceful oasis. I also was excited to share it with Matt this time.

We decided to extend our stay in Phnom Penh to spend a day at a few orphanages. Sadly, one of the biggest challenges was deciding which ones to visit because there are so many to choose from.

We opted to visit one run by a couple who opened the doors of their humble home to the needy children Cambodia, of which there are many. On the day we visited, there were over thirty kids ranging from three to sixteen years of age, living under their roof and sharing everything. This includes the floor space that they all slept on.

The children, starved for attention, fought for ours often pulling one another out of our arms or laps so they could have their rightful turn. We became so consumed and captivated by the children and the host family as they sang, danced, laughed, and played, that we spent the entire day there playing alongside of them. In between the laughter and games, it was difficult not to feel disheartened as we observed a house brimming full of children with remarkable potential, much of which may never be realized for lack of resources, opportunities or lack of concern. We did not have to leave our own country to observe this. There are obviously needy children (not to mention adults) in every corner of the world, but perhaps it is a bit more striking, more noticeable and hard to ignore when it completely surrounds you.


As evening approached and the dark alleyways beckoned our presence, we got up to leave. The host family and their thirty adopted kids, who clearly mastered the art of giving sad puppy dog looks, insisted we stay for dinner. One of their teachers who came by to teach them English, also asked if we would help with the lesson after dinner. How could we refuse?
As the children wiggled and nudged each other to see who could sit closest to us, we graciously accepted our meal consisting of a modest scoop of rice and a fish (or some meat resembling a fish) to be shared amongst everyone. We were served first and embarrassingly given the largest portion of what little fish-meat there was. As we sat and ate together we were profoundly touched by some incredible displays of generosity. Two of the undernourished kids sitting closest to us, unprovoked and with smiles stretching across their faces, began to scoop rice and what little fish-meat they had from their plates and put it on ours. Our attempts to give their generous offerings back were futile and were met with pleasant but stern resistance.

How do you measure a person's worth? If a person's worth were measured by their potential and by their acts of kindness and generosity, rather than their material wealth, level of education or religious beliefs, these children and so many other individuals around the globe would be much more highly regarded, and would indeed be considered rich.

I wonder if the executives on Wall Street who recently received their 10, 20, 50, and in some cases 100 million dollar bonuses would agree? If they are looking for a place to spend their extra money after purchasing their second home in the Hamptons, penthouse on Park Avenue and new Italian sports car, we know a few kids that would greatly appreciate a new set of hand-me-down clothes, a few pens and pencils, a black board to practice their English or maybe just a little more protein in their diet.

They will be happy to share it with you.