As we'll be off to South Africa in a few days, I'm going to take a few minutes to wish you all Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Things to look forward to in 2011 (amongst others): VISITORS!!!!
So... yeah.... come on over and see what all the fuss about Burma is about!
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Telephone Technology
Our house phone amazes me. It is a technological wonder that has been a constant source of bewilderment since our arrival in Yangon.
When you pick it up, you don't hear a dial-tone. Instead, you hear a local radio station (this week, it's been a capella choral Christmas carols), or sometimes even two. Behind all the extra noise and static, a faint dial-tone, as if from the bottom of a well, can be heard.
Anyone who calls us also sounds like they are down at the bottom of a well. A deep well. A deep deep well that absorbs all sound. Telephone conversations are short, with us yelling into the receiver that we can't hear them and would they mind speaking up, while the person on the other end of the line wonders why we are yelling at them....
The only time the phone rings, it seems, it isn't for us anyway. It's almost always for the neighbours, and/or some Burmese person asking us who we are. On the rare occasion that it is for us, we are, of course, unable to understand what the person at the bottom of the well is saying anyway, as the music is sometimes loud enough (or distracting enough -- Ty caught me humming Christmas carols the last time he called me from work, since that's all I could hear) to drown them out completely.
Oh, and the phone doesn't work at all when it's raining.... Needless to say, one of the first times we ever even heard the phone ring was once the rainy season had passed.
"Why not Skype?" I can hear you (Meron) saying... Well, first off, we don't have internet at home...Add in the time difference between Myanmar and Canada (either 11 or 12 hours), and it makes it almost impossible to coordinate.
For out-going phone calls, we can use the satellite phone at the Council, which thinks it's in the UK. Of course, the only time I can actually use it is after my classes at 7:30pm my time. Soooo... I guess if your phone rings at stupid o'clock in the morning, and it's a UK number, you can be sure it's me.
When you pick it up, you don't hear a dial-tone. Instead, you hear a local radio station (this week, it's been a capella choral Christmas carols), or sometimes even two. Behind all the extra noise and static, a faint dial-tone, as if from the bottom of a well, can be heard.
Anyone who calls us also sounds like they are down at the bottom of a well. A deep well. A deep deep well that absorbs all sound. Telephone conversations are short, with us yelling into the receiver that we can't hear them and would they mind speaking up, while the person on the other end of the line wonders why we are yelling at them....
The only time the phone rings, it seems, it isn't for us anyway. It's almost always for the neighbours, and/or some Burmese person asking us who we are. On the rare occasion that it is for us, we are, of course, unable to understand what the person at the bottom of the well is saying anyway, as the music is sometimes loud enough (or distracting enough -- Ty caught me humming Christmas carols the last time he called me from work, since that's all I could hear) to drown them out completely.
Oh, and the phone doesn't work at all when it's raining.... Needless to say, one of the first times we ever even heard the phone ring was once the rainy season had passed.
"Why not Skype?" I can hear you (Meron) saying... Well, first off, we don't have internet at home...Add in the time difference between Myanmar and Canada (either 11 or 12 hours), and it makes it almost impossible to coordinate.
For out-going phone calls, we can use the satellite phone at the Council, which thinks it's in the UK. Of course, the only time I can actually use it is after my classes at 7:30pm my time. Soooo... I guess if your phone rings at stupid o'clock in the morning, and it's a UK number, you can be sure it's me.
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
November Full Moon
In Burma, every month's full moon is a reason to celebrate. The full moon of November is extra special, because the period of time from the full moon of October to the one in November is reserved for special donations from the people to the monasteries. It all culminates in a weekend of candle-lit temples and pagodas, dancing in the streets and, with Mr Win Tin, special donations to the monastery, followed by a delicious lunch.
These photos are Ty's, taken almost a month ago... unfortunately, work, my MA assignments and both of us being sick have kept me from updating. Also, only half the photos are here... I'll try to edit the post and upload the rest tomorrow (including a video of the procession up our street to the monastery near our place).
A rather non-descript little pagoda near our house, across from a grocery store...
suddenly becomes arty and beautiful
Pinwheels of money, donated to the monastery, along with all sorts of daily items, from clocks to waste paper baskets, to soap, to notebooks... Some of these are raffled off, but some seem to be given to the monks.
Coconut oil lamps around the pagoda
Balloons for sale outside the pagoda... why not?
In a pagoda in a nicer part of town (and frequented by the rich), the offerings are works of art in themselves. There were tables and tables of artfully carved watermelon, carrots... everything. More opulent than the mosques of Abu Dhabi.
Bringing donations to the monasteries: In the 2 weeks before the full moon, convoys of trucks like these were all over the city, blaring music and cheering each other on as they donated to monasteries throughout Yangon.
The next day, at Mr Win Tin's monastery, hundreds of people came out to donate to the monks. Actually, what happened was you stood in line, and you were handed a box containing a robe. You 'gave' your 'donation' to the head monk - first men, then women.
Waiting my turn with Mr Win Tin's daughter (in yellow).
Mr Win Tin and Ty show off their longyis. Ty is also wearing the traditional Burmese collar-less shirt.
The procession that led up our street to the monastery...
Oh... and here is the 'dancing in the streets' part: The procession leading to the monastery up the street gave us a special performance. We're looking over our gate, and the blurry bit in front is the barbed wire on top...
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