Politics and the Falang

Except for red white and blue bunting, the occasional Thai flag, and massive traffic snarls, falangs are kept, delicately, away from any political rally or march in the King's city of Bangkok.  In Banglampu, where we stay, tourists and revelers go about their business of dressing inappropriately, careening through the evening with bottles of Leo Beer and Beer Chang with nary a thought to marches and riots.  The tourist spots are open and welcoming and there doesn't seem to be any lack of commerce or crowds.  No one talks about what is going on, and that is probably as it should be.  As an American, our own political knots are complicated enough without trying to armchair quarterback what is going on in Thailand.  I can't even begin to explain it and won't try.  Ultimately, I am Switzerland, it's none of my business.

These funny little tubs
ferry you across the Chao Phraya
all day long, back and forth from one pier to another.
Bangkok

Where Chinatown
and Little India meet
Bangkok

Sampaeng Lane
Bangkok

Street Food
Yangon

The view across Sule Paya
Blvd from our hotel
Yangon

Sule Paya Yangon

Barbershop Yangon

And then there is Yangon.  Even moldier and more abject than last year, or perhaps I notice it more?  I don't know. Mildew coats the once whitewashed colonial buildings and I am reminded of that first visit in 2006, before the government fled Yangon, before the devastation of Nargis, when I looked out the tiny balcony at the back of our guest house and saw wires hanging precariously, peeling paint and the smell of mold.  There is lots of new building, lots of tearing down of other buildings, but still plenty of beautiful old buildings with festoons of laundry strung across balconies where I wonder if there is electricity and what must it be like inside.  How lucky I am to be born where I was and be able to travel here.  Amidst the decay and obvious poverty the people are warm and welcoming and their vitality is reflected in the energy of the city.  Laughter rings out from the sidewalks as men continuously readjust their longyi and clap their hands loudly to summon the tea boy down the street.  There is still an atmosphere of hope. I do my part as a traveler, supporting street vendors, patronizing new small businesses, much like I try to do at home.  There is still something vital about this country and I wish it well with all my heart.