Another great weekend started with taking it easy and watching E & H so Sharon and Steven could have a night out. Saturday morning we met up with the four of them to go for a ride on the Circular Train. The Circular Train is a slow-moving train that makes a loop around Yangon over a three hour time period. 

On the way back I managed to gu-estimate which stop to get off to be closest to the Shan noodle place that we love so it was only a very short walk before we were seated in front of some noodles and dumplings. Yum! Here is a video of the awesomness (don’t mind how incredibly hot and sweaty we were, three hours on an open-air train in the tropics will do that to you):

Still very hot, we tried to find some ice cream but ended up with this creation called a caterpillar that was so overly sweet and artificial. It was not good. Not good at all. 

I had always admired the concept of couchsurfing, letting a fellow traveler crash on your couch (or spare bed or even floor) for a short time as they are passing though. Unlike airbnb or similar sites where you can rent out your spare room to visitors, couchsurfing is completely free for both the host and the guest. The only thing I expect to gain is meeting new friends and fellow travelers that can share their stories and advice, plus some good karma and hopefully some invites to other’s homes across the world. Seeing as we lived in the middle of Maine, we didn’t get a whole lot of travelers wondering though our neck of the woods; but here in Myanmar, the backpackers are flocking in now that the country is open to foreigners with the hopes to see this unknown land before it gets run over with modernization. With few foreigners that live here and even fewer ones that have extra space to offer guests, as soon as I signed up with couchsurfing.org I began receiving requests to stay. 

This weekend we accepted our first couchsufers, two young backpackers from China, Rachel & Jo’di. We invited them out to join us for our Sunday tradition of dimsum and it was just as delicious as ever. Then we wandered around the mall area and found a $1.80 store where Jo’di explained this contraption to me that was designed to make your face slimmer. I also found a “lame mirror,” as well as a phone store that sounds like they take really good care of their customers.

As we continued wandering the streets we stumbled on the very last thing I would expect on a random back road of Yangon – an Amusement Park. It was the creepiest, funniest, most strange find ever. As it was almost 9pm we expected it to be closed but the happily let us in to wander around and I could only think of one thing – that this would be the PERFECT place for a creepy serial killer movie. Let me set the scene for you.

Firstly it is pitch dark, the only lights coming from the off-colored bulbs on the rides that are almost all standing perfectly still except for the occasional merry-go-round which is spinning without anyone riding on it. In fact there is not one person there at all, visitor or worker. As you hesitantly walk around the plastic characters intended to entertain the children look anything but cute as their creepy eyes seem to follow you wherever you go. I continued to glance behind us to make sure we weren’t being followed by a man wielding a giant machete or something. When I turn back around a man appears out of the shadows motioning to an old, peeling sign that says “haunted house.” Always up for an adventure, the group decides to take him up for it and we hand him $700 kyat ($0.70 usd). With a low, menicing laugh he directs us to a dark doorway that I am unable to make anything out beyond the door frame and waves us a slow goodbye. That was the last time anyone every heard from Alisa, Kim, and their couchsurfers. 

Hehehe, obviously not – but that is seriously what it felt like at this place. The haunted house was actually really good. It was just the right amount of scary/creepy and poorly constructed making it funny.  This is my favorite kind of adventure, when we wander around and stumble upon crazy random awesome things. 

Monday started off another school week, in the afternoon I joined a group for the first yoga lesson offered by another teacher (and yoga instructor) in one of the classrooms. I am so glad to have a yoga class again! On Tuesday I began my first meeting of Photo Club. The idea is to get a group of photographers (students, teachers, staff, ect) together to learn some new techniques and practice together. It was a small but interested group that joined, hopefully I will be able to have a great time in the club this year.

Wednesday, Shelly and I decided to go grab some dinner after school. I took the bus over to her apartment and we grabbed a taxi downtown. We didn’t have a real destination but decided to just wander around and see if we could find something tasty to eat. A short while after getting in the taxi we were stuck in the ever growing Yangon traffic – one of the most frustrating and most unavoidable parts of living in a city (especially one with no city planning). After sitting at a light for a good 15 minutes we decided to just get out and walk around that area to see if we could find something to eat. Of course as soon as we got out of the taxi the light turned green and it speed off. That’s okay, not a big deal, but looking around we realized that we were in the wrong part of town to find food because there were no restaurants –not even any stores- in sight. We did the only thing we could do, started walking. I kid you not, after only ten steps or so the skies opened and it started pouring. Now, of course it was not just sprinkling or raining a bit, oh no, it was one of the normal Myanmar monsoon rains that feels like buckets of water being dumped on you.

Shelly was smart enough to have a small folding umbrella with her but I hadn’t picked up the habit yet. Although she tried sharing, her attempt was in vain due to the miniature size of the umbrella and the massive amounts of rain. Since there was no where to duck into we did the only thing we could – kept walking. It looked like we were in the area of Vista Bar where I had gone over the weekend so I gave my best estimate at how to get there and we trudged on.

After taking a wrong turn we found ourselves at one of the entrances to the famous Shwedegon Pagoda. This entrance is unique in the way that it is split halfway through so a road could run through it. We turned left to take a shortcut through the other half of the entrance to reach the road below. As we were almost out of the entrance hall we were stopped by a middle-aged local lady who pointed to our shoes and said “no.” I realized that we hadn’t taken off our shoes when we came through the entrance because we were going backwards. Normally I try to be very respectful of the traditions and customs of the locals but we were literally only 10 feet from the street so we skirted around her saying “sorry” and pointing to the outside.

Normally I would have loved to take the time to curiously wander through the shops we found at the foot of the entrance but by now we were soaked, hungry, still unsure of how to get where we were going, and grumpy from being yelled at. So we hurried along and after another 20 or so minutes of walking finally, FINALLY, found ourselves at vista where we gladly welcomed some tasty drinks and happily munched on some western food as we watched Shwedegon’s lights turn on. 

I don't think I'll ever get sick of this view, ah, Shwedegon

Betel Nut, also known as Paan or Kun-ya, is a combination of a nut (betel and areca) and cured tobacco all wrapped in a betel vine leaf. It is chewed and spat out or swallowed. Betel nut is very common here and is sold on every street corner. It produces a slight high and is very addictive. It has a long history here in Myanmar where often visitors were greeted with an offering of green tea and betel nut. Although the government has started to discourage the chewing of this due to serious health problems, it is going to take a long time to wean people off this habit. The other downside is that it causes teeth to rot and turn red over time – then of course there is also the red splatters of spit out betel all over the streets. It is not a pleasant thing.  But of course our recent couchsurfers, Rachel & Jo’di, were keen to try it since it is special to Myanmar and Kim decided to join them just this once. Here is the video of the making process and their reactions. 

The Circular Train is a railroad that loops in a circle around Yangon. It starts at a big station close to downtown and travels all the way up to the outskirts of the city, then it curves back around, passes my school, and ends back at the station.

A couple weekends ago we decided to give the Circle Line a ride and we headed off with our friends Sharon, Steven and their two kids, Hazel and Kean. When we arrived at the station we had a bit of difficulty finding where to buy tickets, after going through the wrong entrance then standing in the wrong line for 15 minutes, a kind station worker pointed us in the right direction and soon we were on platform 7 waiting at the correct counter. The ticket seller was very helpful and asked if we wanted to take the “aircon” train or the “local” train. We had heard of these options and knew that the “local” train would give us more of an authentic experience so we chose that one without hesitation. We were told by many different sources that we (as foreigners) would need a crisp $1 bill (usd) as fare for the ride. This, luckily, is no longer the case – seriously, who carries around crisp $1 usd bills?? We only paid 200 kyat a piece, which is about $0.20 usd for the ride.

After getting our tickets we waited on the large platform for about 20 minutes until the man who helped us came to show us to our train that had just arrived. We happily jumped on and spread out on the long benches that lined the whole length of the train. The benches were right under the windows facing each other leaving a large aisle in the middle. We weren’t waiting long before the train wheels began slowly turning, creaking with age.

The train pulled out of the station and began a steady “clunk, clunk” rhythm as it meandered on the tracks. Yangon has less than a handful of high-rises making it difficult to use landmarks as notes of where you are in the city, so starting almost immediately after we left the station and lasting the whole ride it was impossible to tell which area of the city we were in. As we got used to the steady pace of the slow-moving train, we were happy to sit back and stair out the windows to gaze as the town passed by.

There were no big sights to see or exciting events, instead we watched the day to day lives of the local people. Often we saw people crossing the tracks or waiting on the road for the train to pass by. It was an echo of what we see in the residential neighborhood that my school is in. After only a few minutes we pulled up to the first stop. A simple station marked by a long bench on either side of the tracks and a walking bridge that spread over the top to connect the sides. There was a quite bustling of people moving around, getting on or off, hurry to their next destination. The train only stopped for a few minutes before setting off again.

Like most other times when we walk around town, we got constant stares from people all around us. Especially being with the children caused us to get a lot of attention (Myanmar people just LOVE kids!). I don’t mind it very much. I feel like I stare at them enough they have the right to be curious and stare back at me. The best part is that whenever I see children staring at me I figured out that if I smile and wave I will always get the same back. Then if they see my camera they usually will make a pose of some sort. It’s great! At one point while I was walking down to the other end of the train I noticed a local trying to get a picture of me on his phone so I stopped and let him take one then followed suit and took my own of him. It actually makes me feel like a celebrity.

Before long the scenery changed from buildings to neighborhoods, from neighborhoods to houses, houses to scattered structures, scattered structures to just fields. This was the first time that we had seen any sort of country setting in Yangon and it was a welcomed scene. We enjoyed the greenery before the train made the loop and started heading back into town.

There were so many interesting people on and around the train. At one point a man came and sat next to us with a wicker basket that was latched at the handles. He was there for a good half an hour and when he stood up to leave he grabbed his bag and it gave a loud quack – we hadn’t even noticed that there was a live duck in the bag!! He was not the only one to bring poultry on the train, there was also a man carrying two large buckets that ended up being filled with chickens! 

After about two hours of riding we were pretty hungry and I was so excited when we stopped and some people selling snacks got on board. I hurried down half of the train to catch them and buy the snacks. One person was selling something similar to Chinese fried noodles but in one big piece – it was tasty. The other person was selling what turned out to be a thinly fried tofu that was cut up into bit sized pieces and served with spicy sauce. I didn’t really care for that one but Steven and Sharon, who are both vegetarians, loved it!

Three hours after we left the station we rounded back into downtown. I managed to guestimate the stops and we hopped off the one right before the large station which landed us in the heart of Bogyoke market – exactly where we were headed. All in all it was a lovely way to spend a Saturday morning, calm and slow paced. This was a great way to get out of the hustle and bustle and see the city from a different point of view. 

Kim and I were itching to have a day in the kitchen so we invited a group of new friends over for a big family dinner. As Kim created magic in the kitchen I ran back and forth to the store across the street retrieving different ingredients that were forgotten about on our big shopping trip. Music blaring, water boiling, and broom sweeping, we danced the day away in the kitchen. The evening was spent with a large group of our new friends sitting around the table enjoying every bite of Kim’s delicious feast. For most of them this was the first time having any sort of actual American food (or food from home as we like to call it) since arriving and it was beyond appreciated. The buffet was set with slice roasted pork, French style red wine braised beef, garlic mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, honey glazed carrots, potato salad, and fresh garden salad. As Nora Jones sang out from the speakers and wine filling our glasses the night drifted along at an easy pace. But this was nothing compared to what was happening right before they arrived.

About an hour before everyone was set to arrive I pulled out our table to the middle of the room and expanded it to ready it for the large crowd we had coming. No more than a few seconds later, there was a big drip of water that splashed all over the table. Shortly after, another one followed on the other end of the table. See we have two consistent drips in our kitchen ceiling which have been mildly annoying up until this point but we had been told that there was no use fixing it in rainy season. But tonight this would just not do. So I sent Kim down to the office to see if someone could come up and put some more packing tape over it (I would have gladly just done this myself if we had packing tape and a latter but alas). Surprisingly Kim came back a short while later followed by three workers. I say surprisingly because things almost never happen immediately here, it is always “Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow” aka sometime in the distant future after you have asked at least three more times –or- “Please wait for me” aka I will come at the most inconvenient time you could possibly imagine most likely in another month or two.

In they came, the three workers, and Kim got back to cooking as I attempted to ask them to put more tape over the cracks that were leaking. I thought they understood when they left only to return with a latter and three more people. As one of them took to looking at the ceiling the rest stood or sat around watching. Apparently here repairs are a spectator sport. Since we had so many extra helpers I decided to tell them about the leak in the spare bathroom coming from the shower area. Silly me to think that one of the extra people would work on it, instead they called down the guy who was working on the ceiling, off the latter and into the bathroom. After some more scurrying around the one worker person was compounding the bathroom tile as his audience watched idling around him.

With the bathroom now covered in compound (because it wasn’t enough just to put it over the leaky area – it had to cover the entire floor and toilet too), the one worker guy got back on the latter to inspect the ceiling some more. No sooner had he gotten up there were bits of plaster falling all over. He decided that he needed to get a good look at the situation and to do so meant pulling down all of the plaster that was put in place to “fix” the leak long ago.  I hastily grabbed the dinnerware from the table as chunks began dropping from the ceiling. He apparently felt satisfied in what he was seeing because he came back off the latter and went with a few of the helpers to retrieve some more tools. When they returned I stepped out of the bedroom with hopes that they had found some tape but what I saw instead was a handsaw about to go through my ceiling. I frantically screamed at them to stop and with wild hand gestures and muddled English tried to explain to them that I was having a dinner party and the guests were set to arrive in 15 minutes. Somehow I managed to finally get through that all I wanted for “now” was it to be taped and they can cut “tomorrow.” Relief came when they finally sent someone who returned with tape and patched up the drips with a temporary fix.

Of course tomorrow came and of course the workers did not. We gave them until Tuesday when Kim went down to the office and demanded someone to come up again. “Yes, yes. Very soon.” After returning the office hours later Kim stayed until someone followed her up to the apartment. Making sure they were all set she left to run to the grocery store. Returning a few hours later she saw the horrid sight of two gapping holes in our ceiling, but what was even worse was Kim’s knife sitting on the table now covered with plaster dust and bent at the tip. Yes, they had used one of her brand new professional chef’s knifes to cut a hole in the ceiling. Needless to say Kim was furious and rightly so. On top of everything they hadn’t even fixed the leaks! We can handle quite a lot with a good amount of grace and patience but this was one epic fail Myanmar.

It’s cobra birthing season. Who would have known? Twice this week they have found snakes on campus, in my building! Apparently they were just little baby snakes that can’t even open their mouths large enough to bite anyone but try telling that to Kim. Knowing her fear of snakes I decided to keep this information to myself, however Sharon spilled the beans and I was met at the apartment door on Tuesday with a bug-eyed Kim holding a knife and insisting I check all of my bags for snakes before I enter the house. This greeting kept consistent for the next couple days. Apparently this is a common thing here, last year they had a huge issue and were finding snakes in lockers and backpacks. They ended up closing school for a day or so to have a specialist come in. Good thing I don’t mind the little slithery creatures.

Early in the week Kim had a small break out of eczema on her hand. For those of you who don’t know her, she has been fighting regular breakouts of sever hand eczema for over a dozen years not. During a break out her hands go through stages of itchy, uncomfortable, painful, dry, and much worse. I don’t want to be too graphic so I will leave it at that. Any who, although we have yet to find a cure or preventative for the eczema, sometimes if she gets to the doctors in time she can get medication to slow down the process. So on Wednesday afternoon we found ourselves headed down the road to Asia Pacific, the local clinic that was highly recommended to us by other ISM teachers. After waiting just under five minutes (as a walk in) we were escorted to the patient room where the doctor quickly arrived. As Kim explained the situation the doctor patiently listened and asked questions. After examining her hand the doctor brought back a few medications for her (anti-inflammatory, steroid cream, solution to sterilize the open wound, etc.) then insisted that we return in a few days if the hand wasn’t better.

The appointment took all of one hour including walking time. The total amount paid for the appointment was $15 usd and the medication was another $8. It was the easiest experience I have every had with a medical situation – no unnecessary tests or vitals, no irrelevant questions or fancy words, simply listening to the patient and providing the necessary care in a (much) timely fashion. We could get used to this. 

On Thursday Kim went to the Zoo with Sharon and the two kids, H & K. In Kim’s recount of it, the zoo was kind of depressing. The housing for the animals was very bleak with little vegetation. The animals themselves were few and not very exciting. The word is that when they moved the capital from Yangon to a no-ones town up north they took all the “good” and “interesting” animals with them to create a zoo up there. On the bright side it was a fun adventure especially for the little ones. I will have to go back with Kim sometime and have a look for myself. Kim only got a few pictures before the camera died unfortunately.

On Thursday evening I had an Open House at the High School. It was my first time interacting with any parents (aside from the lunch that the PTA held for us when we first arrived). The experience was kind of dull seeing as I only got 5 parent visitors in to see me, which is about average as the school tends to have very low turn outs at parent events like this. Although all of my students speak very good English from having been in this international school setting for so long, the majority of the parents do not speak any English. Luckily I had my assistant with me to translate but it was still a bit awkward to know what to talk about. Surprisingly most of the parents wanted to know about how to get their kids set up to take AP Art courses. More surprising is the fact that these kids are only in 9th grade right now. (Seniors, occasionally juniors, take AP courses as preparation for college) Students and parents at this school have somehow gotten the idea that the more AP classes the student takes, the better chance they have for getting into college. It is a crazy sort of epidemic that many of the teachers and administration here have a difficult time figuring out what to do with. 

Although I don't have any pictures from this night, here is a slideshow that I played for the parents throughout the evening of the students working so far this year:

I had a dream last night that I was a high school teacher in the States. I had a class that was so unruly, distespectful, and unmotivated. They would unshamely talkback to me, purposefully do things to irritate me to test what I would do about it, and considered school in general to be a joke. I might consider this more of a nightmare consisting of some of my fears of teaching at the high school level back home. I student taught at a high school in Maine and it was the largest group of unmotivated people I have ever seen. I was constantly trying different ways to interest them and get them to care about their artwork and their education. Unfortunatly my short stint with them didn't change much.

Before moving to Myanmar I had a lot of people interested in how I felt about moving from the elementary level to the high school level and I gave each and every person the same exact answer: “There is no way I would be able to teach high school here in American public education at this point in my life.” The challenges that public school teachers face every day are so far beyond most people can comprehend. See in the states many people consider teaching as a lower level career. The old saying goes “those who can, do and those who can’t, teach.” Teachers are some of the lowest paid and most underappreciated professionals. We often work far outside the normal workday hours while we plan lessons, prep materials, work on professional development, take extra classes to learn about the new buzz topic, give students extra help, decorate our classrooms and so much more. After everything a teacher does and all they give to the students they still feel like it is not enough. I do not know of one teacher that feels like they have done enough, we always strive to give more time, more resources, more energy, more love to our students.

When looking to go abroad I began getting introduced to the international classroom and let me tell you – it is a whole other world. When moving here I had been looking forward to seeing if the research that I had found was true, in particular the fact that teachers are highly regarded in Myanmar. What I had heard was the hierarchy whet something like: Monks, Government Officials, Teachers, and so forth. What I have experienced so far this is in fact correct. Ask any teacher in my school why they love to work here and I garentee you each and every one of them will have the same answer: the students. I know most teachers continue on each day for the benefit of the students but these students in particular are phenomenal. They great me each time they walk into the classroom, their personalities are bright and positive, they are each intrinsicly motivated to do their very best, they always complete their work – most often beyond my expectations, they are bright and willing to be challenged, and don’t even get me started on the quality of work they submit which is far beyond what I could imagine for students at this age. Most relevant to this topic is how respectful they are to teachers. They listen when I speak, not just because they are supposed to but because they are actually obsorbing what I am saying. They express their opinions in polite ways, never to backtalk or undermind others.

Beyond the person to person, respect is ingrained deep in the culture of the Myanmar people. It is a part of the Buddhist philosophy to be appreciative of where you are and not envious of those who have more. This is easier to do when you believe that you have a seemingly endless amount of lives, each of which will keep on improving if you gain enough merit. One way of the many, many ways to gain merit is to pay respect to those you honor, elders, religious leaders, and teachers.

Next week is a big Buddhist holiday called Thadingyut where it is especially important to pay respect to anyone you consider a teacher in your life. There are many community events where they feed and pay respect to the monks in the neighborhood. On the day of the holiday my students told me that they will go out to the elders in their family and  show them respect. In the middle school they invited their family elders in to watch a special performace in their honor. In the elementary school they held an assembly for the teachers where the students knelt on the floor and chanted to show their respect. In the high school students will individulally pay respect to teachers by giving them gifts leading me to why I received a $50 bottle of wine on Friday. Many other teachers received special gifts also, many got wine or liquor like me but some were given longyis (the traditional Myanmar skirt type clothing that men and women wear) and others got food of sorts. The bus ride home was like Christmas morning with each of us showing off our gifts.

I feel very lucky to be a part of this society where they understand the importance of what I do and show that in both special ways and ordinary day to day tasks. When the occasional taxi driver asks (in broken English) what I do here, I am proud to reply that I am a teacher – a response that always receives a big smile and a respectful nod.