Myanmar Redux, Part 1: Yangon

This month another pandemic activity has emerged for me: reviewing photographs currently on my computer, remembering and reliving so many moments, and then deciding what to keep and what to relinquish into digital oblivion. Now, in truth, I hold in my possession a formidable abundance of photographs--film and digital--most of which were generated during the years 1987-2017,  the years I lived overseas. As of now I have appraised maybe an eighth of the photos currently on my laptop; the printed photos from my film-photographing days await in boxes under the bed in the guest room, and there also exists a copious collection of photos on an external hard drive secluded in a drawer somewhere in this house. But right now, I can only dabble in photographic-induced memories beginning in December, 2014.

And, in December, 2014, my friend Tammy and I traveled to Myanmar for Christmas Break, a destination that first began to seem like a viable travel option for us as we listened to the stories and experiences of a friend and colleague who taught at an international school in Yangon--a friend we met while working on our master's degrees with Michigan State University one summer at an overseas campus located in Thailand. (Tammy and I attended three different summer sessions in pursuit of those degrees, one summer in Antibes, France, and two summers in Pattaya, Thailand.) We first met in him in Thailand, the summer of 2001, and he continued to regale us with stories and information about Myanmar until we all graduated the following summer in July, 2002. Still, before Tammy and I actually put together the trip to Myanmar, more than a decade had elapsed.

Although I loved my travels in Myanmar, I struggle these days with conflicting emotions because of the Rohingya crisis--the ugly embodiment of prejudice and discrimination ultimately erupting into attempted genocide. I play with separating my experiences in Myanmar from the horrors and atrocities that have occurred there in the meantime, but I continue to worry inside myself whether or not I can correctly place everything in perspective. Nevertheless, I shall commence with a Myanmar travels redux, largely in photographs.

Should anyone want to review previous blog posts on my Myanmar travel adventure, I did write about it in 2014 and 2015. They can be found here, here, here, and here.

Yangon--formerly known as Rangoon--comprises part one of this redux. Tammy and I flew in and out of Myanmar by way of Yangon International Airport and spent a day or two in the city of Yangon on both ends of the trip.

I took these photos looking onto the city from our hotel.

While on the streets.

These were taken at Shwedagon Pagoda, the most sacred Buddhist pagoda in Myanmar.

When I visited Myanmar in 2014, I still held Aung San Suu Kyi in revered esteem; I believed she was a beacon for human rights and a principled activist, one who gave up her freedom to challenge ruthless and corrupt army generals. That perspective I now believe was not fully informed. I am deeply disappointed and disillusioned by her callous indifference to the Rohingya crisis. This final photograph was taken in front of the compound where she was detained in house arrest for fifteen years or so. It was a must-see for me at the time. When I reviewed this photograph this month, I cropped out all the signs that gave honor to her and rendered it as just a photo of Tammy and me in front of a white gate somewhere in Yangon. I guess I'm bitter like that.