A Novice Monk’s Day

Back in Shan State, I spent a considerable amount of time in Tat Ein village this trip, specifically visiting the primary school, the monastery, and U San Di Mar, the maverick monk who has planned activities and organized donations that have revitalized this once desolate village. I promised to write more about him, and I still plan to, but this post is devoted to one of the novice monks that I got to know quite well this time.

 

Pyin Na Thiri, if you remember from one of my posts last month, is the little nine-year old (oops, I forgot: nine and a HALF!) who was our first guest photographer last month. Pyin Na Thiri is in fourth grade at the school and appears to be a very clever and diligent student. He doesn’t horse around like many of the other boys, including his fellow novice monks, but listens carefully and obeys the teachers. He was also my guide on the first trip that I made to the monastery last month. Even though it’s only “up the hill” (about a three-minute walk) from the school, I had never previously visited the monastery. Exactly 20 novice monks stay there, along with about a half-dozen older monks and an abbot (saya daw).

 

Here are some photos that I took of a “day in the life” of Pyin Na Thiri. Some are at his school, with classmates and his teacher; and others were taken at the monastery. In one of the monastery photos he can be seen standing over a group of other novices, almost as if he’s supervising the crew who are cleaning up and weeding around one of the buildings. I can just hear him diplomatically pointing out to Zar Na Ga: “Uh, I think you missed a blade of grass over there.” This shot perfectly captures a side of the young monk’s personality; diligently watching over his fellow monks and making sure the task is done properly. And, in case you are wondering, he wasn’t content to stay a bystander; he did pitch and help after this photo was taken. But if he ever leaves the monkhood, my guess is that Pyin Na Thiri is destined for a career in management or as a supervisor!

 

 

Yangon Architecture

In the past week I’ve read several articles — online and in real stain-your-fingers newspapers — about Hillary Clinton’s recent visit to Myanmar. Many people, naturally, are optimistic about “democratic” changes in the country, and believe Clinton’s visit may help to encourage the process. One article also mentioned that land prices in Yangon have shot up dramatically since Clinton’s visit — in some case only a few mere hours after she left town. I’m not sure if that is optimism or sheer greed. One fears that glassy-eyed, slick-talking businessmen intent on “development” will buy up property and further wreck havoc with Yangon’s beautiful, but fragile, old buildings.

 

Much of the lovely architecture found around Yangon dates back to the old British Colonial period — when they slapped the name “Burma” on the unsuspecting locals. The past few years have already seen many old buildings razed; some of them because of damage from Cyclone Nargis, and others simply because a property developer has seen profit in the acquisition. If you want to see some of Yangon’s architectural treasures, you had best make a visit soon before they are all bulldozed into history.

 

 

 

Mandalay Restaurant

Today’s guest photographer is Aung Myo Ko (pictured above), a personable 15-year old waiter at the Aye Myit Tar Restaurant in Mandalay. I’ve been dining at Aye Myit Tar ever since my very first trip to Mandalay about seven years ago. The food is tasty (although their curries may be a bit on the oily side for many Westerners), and the service is always incredibly attentive and friendly. I’d even venture to proclaim that the service is more worthy of praise than the food. I was mesmerized by the scene I witnessed the first time I ever dined there. I was dining alone, yet I had a crew of four waiters hovering over my table, constantly filling up my glass of beer, dishing out more servings of rice, or giving me second (or third) helpings of the vegetable side dishes. The young waiters dashed swiftly between tables, taking orders, laughing, even singing at times. And always those smiles. I was hooked, and since then it’s become my first night ritual to have dinner at Aye Myit Tar whenever I arrive in Mandalay. Beef curry and a large bottle of Myanmar beer, please!

 

Aung Myo Ko has been working at Aye Myit Tar for over two years. Like most of the other young waiters, he doesn’t go to school, but works every day, both lunch and dinner shifts. Some of these kids also live at the restaurant, sleeping in an upstairs back room. Here are some photos that Aung Myo Ko took of his friends at the restaurant recently. If you are in Mandalay, stop by for a meal. The restaurant is located on 81st Street, between 36th and 37th Street. From the restaurant, it’s only a short drive or walk to the famous Moustache Brothers’ house, where shows are held each night.

 

 

 

 

Baby Bonanza

If I hang out long enough at Ko Tin Chit’s teashop on 90th Street in Mandalay, the babies start coming out of the bamboo woodwork. Yes, once word gets out that I’m at the teashop, I can rest assured that a baby — or three — will materialize that day. Actually, it’s not the little tikes who arrive all by their lonesome; it’s the parents who drag the infants into the teashop for a photo session, or they’ll meet me out in the street. Some of the babies, of course, will cry or pitch a fit (“Why do I have to pose for this geek?”), but sometimes you get a really happy kid who finds the whole scenario delightful.

 

 

 

Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass

One of my guilty listening pleasures is Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. They were hugely popular back in the 1960s, and continued to have hits into the early 70s. They were hard to categorize, straddling the line between light jazz and instrumental pop, although some cynics might dub their music as “cheesy” or even “easy listening”. While they were never considered innovative by music critics, the listening public loved the Tijuana sound and bought their records in droves. Tijuana Brass albums were full of deliciously addictive instrumentals — and once in a while a vocal (“This Guy’s in Love with You”) by Herb — that would always make you smile. For many of us who grew up in the 1960s, this music evokes tons of good memories.

The most famous of the Tijuana Brass albums was Whipped Cream and Other Delights. That album was packed with the band’s typical brand of peppy instrumentals, but what set it apart from the crowd was THAT COVER: a beautiful tanned-skin young lady wearing nothing but whipped cream (although legend has it, that she was actually covered with shaving cream), the froth barely covering her breasts. She was pictured gazing seductively at the camera, calmly licking whipped cream from her fingers. And let me tell you, back in 1965 when this album was first released, such an album cover was almost scandalous stuff!

For many years I owned a CD compilation of old Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass tunes called Classics (Volume 1), which contained 25 of the band’s most famous recordings. I still play this one a lot, but I missed listening to some of the original albums, so I’ve been going back and buying some of the original Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass albums on CD in past couple of years. Most of these reissues also contain extra material. The “40th Anniversary Edition” of Whipped Cream and Other Delights, for example, has two extra tracks that weren’t on the original album. The CD reissue also includes a fold-out poster of the famous album cover along with a 20-page booklet. I proudly taped my copy of the poster to the wall of my bookshop, next to the drinks menu (yes, we have whipped cream!). At least once a week someone will comment on the “Whipped Cream” cover, usually along the lines of “I used to have that on vinyl” or “My father used to have that album.” One recent customer, however, told us that “My grandfather owned that record!” What can you say to that, except, “Hey, we’re all getting older!”

In addition to that album, I picked up Going Places and South of the Border, two other excellent studio albums by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass with extra cuts. I also bought a copy of Lost Treasures, a collection of previously unreleased recordings. Released by the excellent Shout Factory label, the 22 tracks on Lost Treasures range from covers of classics like “Fire and Rain,” “Close to You” and “Tennessee Waltz,” to oddball takes on “Popcorn” and “Flowers on the Wall.” If you are a Tijuana Brass fan, this is an album you need to have.

The musicians in the Minneapolis band Soul Asylum were inspired by Whipped Cream and Other Delights, or at least the album cover, and in 1988 they released a six-song EP called Clam Dip and Other Delights — complete with a similar-themed cover, except that their model was a guy covered in gooey clam dip. Or maybe they used shaving cream too. The music, however, bore no resemblance to that of the Tijuana Brass.

And then there was perhaps the most bizarre Tijuana Tribute of them all: Colonel Sanders’ Tijuana Picnic. Yes, this was a real album released in 1968 on an obscure label called Mark 56 Records. I had a copy of this on vinyl back when I lived in Florida. I have no idea what happened to my copy, but suspect it was with stuff I had in storage that was eventually dumped. I recently saw a copy selling for $100 online! There wasn’t much in the way of information or musician credits on the album, but the music was practically a carbon copy of what was on the Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass albums. In other word: fun stuff. But the big appeal here is the crazy cover. The picnicking family look absolutely thrilled with their bucket of chicken, and seem oblivious to the famous white-suited chicken king sitting in their midst.

 

 

Season’s Headaches

We’re now firmly in the middle of December, which of course means it’s almost time for that most annoying of annual holidays, Christmas. Yes, I’m one of those “Bah Humbug” types. I’ll spend the rest of the month trying not to visibly grimace when some unsuspecting soul wishes me a “Merry Christmas” or am forced to endure vapid Christmas music when wandering through the local shopping malls and supermarkets. As far as I’m concerned, this borders on torture.

When I first moved to Bangkok nearly 16 years ago, I naively assumed that I could escape the idiocy of the Christmas season, and the idiotic babblings of fervent Christians, by living in Thailand. But alas, that wasn’t to be. Although Thailand is overwhelmingly populated by Buddhists, the locals seem to think it’s cute to decorate department stores, restaurants and supermarkets with Christmas trees and other jingly, glittery crap. And hey, why not wear a Santa Claus hat and sing “Jingle Bells” while you’re at it! Sanook, na ka! Well, it’s not so sanook for those of us with little tolerance for Christmas or Christianity. My dream is go around to all the shops that are displaying trees and other gaudy decorations, whip out an industrial-sized lighter, and start setting fire to these seasonal atrocities. Whooomph! There’s your festival of lights!

Yet another disturbing aspect to “Festive” season here in Bangkok is the annoying appearance of Christian carolers on the BTS Skytrain carriages on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Why these groups are given permission to serenade (I think harassment is a more accurate term) passengers on the train is beyond my comprehension. Then again, maybe these are renegade bands of carolers who gleefully flaunt regulations in an attempt to spread their perverted brand of Christmas cheer. Whatever the case, I now purposefully avoid the Skytrain on those “special days.” Not only would the Christmas yodeling leave me fuming, I fear I would lose all control and either start spitting on the offenders or physically grab a couple of the louder carolers and hurl them onto the rails below. Hark! There’s a body on the tracks!

Earlier this week, I was in the back room of my bookshop when I heard an abrasive chorus of “We Wish you a Merry Christmas,” accompanied by the strumming of a guitar, coming from the front of the shop. I knew the culprits immediately: a group of peculiar Filipino minstrels who are always walking into local shops and serenading for money no matter which month it is. I rushed out of the room and literally chased them out of my shop, screaming obscenities at them.

As they slithered back out into the street one of my customers remarked: “Wow, I’ve never seen you get so upset like that!” No, it’s indeed rare to see me explode in such a manner. Normally I stay pretty calm even in the midst of occasional chaos. But I have zero tolerance for evangelical Christians who flaunt their bizarre religious views in public. And I especially detest those missionary types who travel to foreign countries with the aim of “converting” locals who they deem to be “poor, ignorant heathens” in need of saving. But hey, the Jesus-Lovers are obviously morally, culturally, and intellectually superior to the rest of us agnostic souls, so we should listen to them, right? Uh, no. Delusional and dangerous are better words to describe these Bible Belters. If they want to believe their fantasy tales and celebrate Christmas they are entitled to do so, but not in public places where the rest of us hope to escape such nonsense.

It’s also safe to assume that I wont be playing any Christmas music in my shop this month. As usual, the CD player will be blasting nothing but a medley of Satanic, devil-worshipping hits!

Roadside Refreshment

I love the little water stands that you see throughout Myanmar. They are usually found by the side of the road in villages and cities, or in front of monasteries, homes and schools. They are as ubiquitous as teashops; seemingly on every block, no matter where you gaze settles. Sometimes the water jugs are covered with a plate, and the whole stand might have a little roof, or other times the jugs are just set on a table or ledge. I’ve never seen any signs posted in front of these water stands, but the message is clear: Hey weary traveler, stop here and quench your thirst.

 

I’ve always been leery of taking a sip of water from such a potentially unhygienic source, but the locals seem fine with it, so this time I tried a cup in Mandalay … and lived to tell the tale. I’m still afraid to ask about the source of the water, but was grateful for the free refreshment.

For more photos of these Burmese water stations:

http://garlicneversleeps.wordpress.com/2011/08/11/burmese-water-break/

Mandalay Teashop Hospitality

Here are some shots I took last month at the teashop and around the 90th Street neighborhood in Mandalay. From the very first time that I accidentally discovered this non-descript little teashop while aimlessly riding my bike around the southwest “Monk Quarter” of the city, they have never let me pay for any tea or snacks. Such generosity does not go unnoticed, so I always try to bring some small gifts for the owner, Ko Tin Chit and his staff, and also for the children in the neighborhood.

 

It’s also become a tradition that I take a group of kids on a half-day or full-day trip to some interesting place in the area. But this time I wasn’t sure if I would be able to afford any trips while in Mandalay. My finances were already stretched after three trips to the balloon festival in Taunggyi (only one of which I had budgeted for) and I was looking at another week — or two — of additional expenses. Because there are no ATMs or money transfer services in Myanmar, whatever cash you bring with you is all you have to spend.

 

Once I arrived in Mandalay, my first order of business was to drop by the teashop and see everybody. I stay in e-mail contact with Khin New Lwin, a university student who is the daughter of one of the teashop regulars, so they knew of my arrival. But I was feeling very torn as to whether to blow my budget and try and take the kids somewhere this time or not. I still had enough cash, but the big uncertainty was how long I would be staying in Myanmar this time, and I didn’t to be a little frugal. With the flooding situation in Bangkok it was looking more and more like I may need to extend my stay in Myanmar, thus I was going to need all the cash I had. I was about to plead poverty and tell the kids something along the lines of: “Sorry, I can’t take you anywhere this time, but next time I’ll make it up to you.” But after talking about the flooding in Bangkok, Ko Tin Chit seemed to have a good understanding of my predicament and suggested that I postpone any trips and save my money this time.

 

I was relieved that they understood, but still a little sad that we weren’t going to be making another communal excursion somewhere. But then Maw Hsi, one of the men who frequent the teashop, volunteered to take me around to some of the monasteries and pagodas in the area. “I’ll be your guide this time,” he laughed. Of course, once word got out of this plan, several of the kids wanted to tag along with us, which was more than fine by me. So that meant that Moe Htet Aung, Zin Ko, Ye Htit, Thar Nyi, and some of the other kids joined our afternoon neighborhood tours. And this touring wasn’t confined to one day, but was spread out over four different days. We went to big monasteries, tiny monasteries, teakwood monasteries, old pagodas, and one complex next to the river that housed some Buddha figures that had been salvaged from the water. Of course this — and the unusually steamy November temperatures — gave the kids a good excuse to go swimming.

 

Instead of it being a “see you next time” one-time visit to break the news to the kids that there would not be a trip this time, I ended up going back to the teashop every single day while in town, and those no-stress visits were one of the highlights of my trip. And every single day I visited some parent would give me a present of some sort, ranging from bags of fruit and sweets to sandals and longyis. Just another example of why I like going back to visit this friendly neighborhood: charming place and charming people.

 

 

 

 

Sun Comes Up

Up early for a sunrise one day while in Bagan; pedaling my bike down the sand-strewn streets to a secluded spot between New Bagan and Nyaung U. From there, I was able to view the sun rising over the rice fields and peeking behind pagodas.

The following day, I found another secluded spot for a quick glimpse of the sunset. Not a soul in sight, and the grounds were also mercifully free of any stray farm animals. Splendid isolation, as the great philosopher Warren Zevon once said.

 

Patti Scialfa

Digging into my musical vault of CDs at home earlier this week I unearthed a real gem of an album that I hadn’t listened to in a few years; 23rd Street Lullaby by Patti Scialfa. I have two other albums by Scialfa, Rumble Doll and Play It As It Lays, but 23rd Street Lullaby remains my favorite of the bunch.

23rd Street Lullaby is full of great songs, ranging from gorgeous, wistful ballads to more uptempo tunes. Although Scialfa is married to Bruce Springsteen, their songs don’t really sound that much like one another. But then again, there is a certain thread that connects their music, at least conceptually. They both have a certain integrity, sincerity, and lyrical depth to their songs that set them apart from the rest of the rock and roll crowd. This is not pop music for simpletons, but multi-layered songs that reveal new secrets with each listening. You could call this music for grown-ups, or for those of a certain age, but Scialfa’s songs are not so buried in the past or riddled with clichés that younger listeners will be turned off. Her music does not sound dated by any means. This is music that shimmers and invigorates the listener.

Scialfa is an excellent singer and songwriter who can more than hold her own, but it doesn’t hurt that she is joined by a stellar cast of musicians on 23rd Street Lullaby. In addition to Mr. Springsteen, Nils Lofgren, Marc Ribot, and Will Lee join the party. This is one lullaby that you’ll be humming for days. Scialfa takes her time between albums (she’s only released the three albums, Rumble Doll being her debut in 1993), but it’s always worth the wait to hear her rich compositions and sumptuous vocals.