Vermont Senior Portraits

Now that it's summer, it's time to start thinking about next year's senior portraits.  

Here are a couple of shots from a fun session with Sammi last fall. Ohh, she also plays a mean violin.

If you're interested in portraits of any kind, please contact me.

If you're interested in portraits of any kind, please contact me.

Burmese Beaches are Beautiful. Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar.

A 'quick' 5 hour bus ride from Yangon (in reality 6+ hrs), Ngwe Saung Beach is the closest major beach area to the capital.  A 13km stretch of white sand is the main reason to come here.  Most of the beach is lined with resorts ranging from the very nice to the cheap backpacker type.  We chose a mid-range place, mostly due to the fact it was the only one available.  After a few weeks of interesting but absurdly hot travel through Myanmar, we wanted a few days to relax and sit on the beach before making the trip back to real life.  

Emerald Sea Resort, Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar.

As with the rest of Myanmar, the tourist infrastructure is growing, and the new western run places are great, but many places are in desperate need of attention and an update.  I mainly think this is due to the fact that many Burmese haven't had the opportunity to travel and experience a nice hotel with good service.  Our place, the Emerald Sea Resort (resort is a stretch), was a good example.  Situated on an amazing stretch of beach, the location was amazing, but the grounds were at best a work in progress.  Yes they had a pool, but it was so scummy and green that we didn't dare stick a toe in.  I've seen backyard farm ponds that were cleaner.  This of course didn't stop the local Burmese from swimming all morning with their families.  We did eventually see someone making a halfhearted attempt at skimming the pool, but it really didn't do anything.

The most challenging part was the intermittent power.  There was power from 6pm to 6am, and 1-3pm.  This wouldn't be such a problem except that the temperature was topping out around 100 degrees every day, meaning no lounging in bed in the morning.  Once they get reliable power to town I think things will improve greatly.

Volleyball Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar.

The Bay of Bengal is known as the Emerald Sea for a reason.  The water is a light green color.  Ngwe Saung's beach may not be as white as Koh Samui's, and the water might not be as neon turquoise as Grace Bay's, but it's one of the best beaches I've stuck my toes in.  The seemingly endless, wide stretch of sand reaches into the haze in both directions, and the oppressive heat makes reaching the end nearly impossible.  The water is clean, clear and just around body temp.  So warm that even Miriam could stay in as long as she wanted.

A man sits in the shadow of his horse. Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar.

During one such long play in the water, I went out for one last dive under the rolling waves.  In quick succession, I was double whammied by a jellyfish in the middle of my back.  A quick exit from the water ensued, followed by an increasingly strange full-body tingling that peaked as I lay in bed while Miriam attempted to find out more information on the trickle of internet in the lobby.  The answer came back. "Well, there's one jelly fish that lives around here, but it kills you in about 3 minutes, so it's probably not that one..." Hmm...After running through the checklist of what to do if I need to go to the hospital, thankfully something we've never had to do in detail before, I popped a couple of antihistamines and went to dinner.  Even before the food arrived, I was transported to a sleepy, hazy, tingly world that consisted of me desperately trying to stay awake and upright, something I can't say I accomplished, nearly falling off the chair repeatedly. 

If you're wondering what's on my third world emergency healthcare checklist, this is the basic gist.  Bring lots of basic first aid items, go to the hospital only when necessary, if you do, bring LOTS of cash, make sure you get new needles, and no blood infusions.  If it's really serious, go straight to the airport and head to one of Bangkok's world class hospitals.  If it's minor, go to the pharmacy and treat yourself.  Simple as that.

By the next afternoon I was feeling much better, if a bit reluctant to linger in the sea.

Miriam taking flight.

A tattered flag waves.

Beach days.

Fire twirling at UMe Cafe, Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar.

Fire twirling at UMe Cafe, Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar.

More to come...

Previously - Yangon, Inle Lake, Myanmar, Bagan and the thousands of temples, and Mandalay.

Yangon, Myanmar

When it came time to leave Inle Lake and make the journey to Yangon, we decided to look into flying.  Myanmar has a number of airlines that operate in the country; the slow roads and long distances make it an appealing method of travel.  When we inquired about flights from Heho, the closest airport, the travel agent looked at us and laughed, only saying "Look on the internet for Heho Airport." (A plane crashed in December 2012).  We decided to hop on the overnight bus that took us back over the winding mountain roads towards the main 'highway' heading south to Yangon.  While crossing the mountains we saw the effects of clear cutting, watching in amazement at a mile long line of fire working it's way up an adjacent slope and lighting up the night sky.

The famous Strand Hotel on Yangon's waterfront has long been the choice for the well-heeled.

The bus ended up being better than we expected, probably due to the fancy blue neck pillows with white frills that were provided.  After arriving at the bus station in Yangon around 6am, we made our way to the hotel and then set out on foot to explore our neighborhood.  Yangon is a large, dirty, bustling, hot, sweaty, mix of people in the true Asia sense.  I imagine it's what Bangkok felt like 30 years ago.  New buildings touching their decaying colonial counterparts.  

Monks collecting alms, Yangon, Myanmar.

It's sometimes the small things that make a place seem foreign.  The veins and arteries of Asian cities are filled with motos, surging from street to street, flowing around objects like a river moves around a stone.  Motos of all shapes and sizes carry the lives of people in every corner of Asia.  Except Yangon.  Motorcycles are banned in Yangon (as are horns, but I have no recollection of a quiet city), and have been for quite some time.  This however, hasn't changed the way you cross a street.  With motos the technique of choice is the slow and steady shuffle.  As long as you make no sudden movements and keep a steady pace, motos will... well, should... flow around you.  At times it seems as if you could safely walk blindfolded across a busy street.  When cars, trucks, and buses enter the mix, and in Yangon's case dominate the scene, there is much less flowing going on.  It's more like the people crossing the street flow around the vehicles.  The slow shuffle remains, but the delicate art of timing a moving vehicle takes charge.  Like Frogger in real life.  In my experience the best way to learn the art of crossing a street is to follow a local, preferably an old woman.  Clearly they've done this before and have an ingrained sense of when to move.  Walking out into 4 lanes of moving traffic is not only allowed, it's the only way to cross the street. Slow and steady, slow and steady.

Crossing a street in Yangon, Myanmar.

Used books for sale on the street.  Yangon, Myanmar.

Shwedagon Pagoda, is the focal point of Yangon sky line, a giant golden stupa rising from a sea of concrete buildings.  The most sacred Buddhist temple in Myanmar draws thousands of people a day to walk around the central golden spire (yes, it's actually covered in gold), pray at one of the hundreds of Buddha statues, or just watch the scene.  We timed it perfectly, arriving just before sunset. 

Gold plates cover Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

A young woman prays, Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

A monk watching the stream of people pass by, Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

Golden spires, Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

Sweepers making their way around Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

Incense burns at Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

A monk stands in front of Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar.

Shwedagon's golden stupa glows after sunset, Yangon, Myanmar.

More to come...

Next up - It's beach time! Ngwe Saung, Myanmar.

Previously - Inle Lake, Myanmar, Bagan and the thousands of temples, and Mandalay.

Inle Lake, Myanmar

After a relatively painless bus ride from the plains of Bagan through the once magnificant teak forests (now clear-cut), over twisty mountain roads, where I could only think of the word 'plunging', we arrived at the mountain ringed Inle Lake. Only after we reached Yangon did we learn that we had passed through the town of Meiktila, the smoldering (literally) center of the latest Buddhist on Muslim violence. We missed it by a few days, and never in our whole trip saw any outward racism.

A Burmese fisherman using the traditional foot paddling technique, Inle Lake, Myanmar.

Inle Lake is one of the must-see places in Myanmar.  Perched at 2900', the lake region was noticeably cooler than the scorched plains we had just come from. We based ourselves in the little town of Nyaungshwe (not to be confused with Shwenyaung) on the northern edge of the lake.  It's the main launching point for exploring the lake. The constant "You want moto?" yelled at foreigners in Asia changed to "You want boat?"

A jeweler hammering a silver bowl.

Jeweler's bench.

As Miriam and I were celebrating 5 years (yikes, 5 years, really?!), we stayed at a very nice hotel, the Viewpoint, run by a Swiss guy. This was by far the nicest place we stayed the whole time. Everything worked, the food was great, the design was fresh and interesting, and it even had an 'eco-fridge'.  The eco fridge was basically a clay pot surrounded by rice husks.  It was however hidden inside the coffee table, so we didn't find it until our third day.  The locally owned hotels are still learning how to run a high end place and it was nice to stay in a place that actually felt like it was worth the high prices we were paying everywhere.  Plus, for whatever reason, we got upgraded, so that helped.

A village on Inle Lake, Myanmar

We headed out early onto the lake, zipping past the fishermen, using their unique stand up foot paddling technique to maneuver their boats.  We were making our way to the 'floating villages', which were in fact, not floating, but built on stilts or mounds of dirt. The floating part was the gardens.

Floating gardens, Inle Lake, Myanmar

Built on rafts of the invasive water hyacinths, they grew everything from tomatoes to large gourds.  The floating masses are buoyant enough to support a person and are tended by farmers from their boats.  Having access to year round water makes the lake a perfect place for agriculture in a country that lacks rain for large portions of the year.  With all good things there are problems though.  As the floating gardens spread, combined with the silty runoff from the surrounding clear cut mountains, the shallow lake is slowly filling in.

Woman offering turmeric powder in a small market.

Tea seller

Puppets hang in a market.  Marionettes and puppetry are very popular with the Burmese.

Stopping in at a few of the major attractions, we saw a nice little market in a town sliced by canals.  We saw a giant pagoda, complete with Buddha blobs, statues that were so covered in gold leaf they were completely unrecognizable as Buddhas. The pagoda also had a pair of ceremonial boats with large golden ducks on their bows.

A Buddha sculpture so covered in gold leaf it has become a blob. 

Ceremonial boat

Fabrics play a large part in Burmese culture, almost all woven in some way or another.  Weaving the fibrous lotus stems is a process that I've never seen before and can create fabric with the texture of rough silk.  I believe this is a unique process to Inle Lake.

Weaving lotus stems

Weaving lotus fibers

Also on tap was a stop at the cigar rolling house, where the outer leaf is cheroot, similar to tobacco, but smaller and thinner in size.  I believe this is also the the leaf they use to roll up the betel nut, which everyone chews, resulting in most streets, paths, and walkways being covered in sickly red spit.

The one place I was most excited about seeing was the 'Jumping Cat Temple'.  Monks have taught their tiny felines to jump through hoops.  No easy feat.  After waiting for a long while with lots of other tourists, watching the dozen or so cats snooze around the pagoda, it became clear that there would be no show today, or that they don't do the jumping anymore.  Either way, we left disappointed.

Back in town, I decided it was time for a hair cut.  I had been saving up (i.e. not cutting my hair) in preparation for our trip to Asia.  Over the years I have thoroughly enjoyed the 'barber shacks', side walk barber's chairs, awkward salons, and other hair cutting places that have never cost me more than $3.  It's always an experience to be placed in the hands of someone who doesn't speak your language and you've just entrusted to cut your hair.  Almost always an old man, they have at times shaved my forehead, ears, and given head massages.  There have been a few terrible mistakes, but that comes with the territory.  The worst of them ended with me looking like a Korean middle-schooler, not a good look for me.  We had seen a barber, 'Hair Cat', on our way to our hotel and thought it looked like a suitable place for the latest experiment.  The shack was just large enough for a single barber's chair.  Going through the motions, my hair was cut and washed, and my face was shaved by a nice man of about 40 years old.

Not my best haircut, but well within the norms of Asian haircuts.  When it was all finished I asked for the bill, expecting it be within the standard $3-7 range.  I even thought it might get as high as $15, factoring in how expensive Myanmar was turning out to be.  Turning around, the barber mumbled "$30"...Unsure of what I had just heard, I asked again and got the same reply, "$30"...now gasping in shock, I am sure he must have mistaken his numbers in English.  "You mean $3, right?" I ask, catching an equally shocked Miriam out the corner of my eye. "Yes, $30." Fumbling in my pocket, I pull out my wad of cash, so struck by the absurd amount that I can't even muster a protest.  After paying, we stumbled back to the hotel still unable to believe that I have just paid more than I do in the US for a haircut.

More to come...
Next up - Yangon
Previously - Bagan and the temples, Mandalay