In the evening, we go to a Buddhist temple, either the Shwe Dagon or the Botataung. By dark, most of the tourists have departed, and the temple becomes all-Burmese. One-year-olds learn to walk under the watchful eyes of hundreds of bronze Buddhas. Pre-schoolers run around in what look like pajamas.
Our friend Khin explains that people don’t wear pajamas, so kids may as well wear them for every day. PJs do look cool and comfortable. And I did buy some white, thin cotton pajamas for meditating in Thailand, where it is customary for yogis to wear all white. Four weeks from now, I’ll be walking around a temple in my pajamas.
Ssssshhhhh. Don’t tell anyone that they’re pajamas.
The streets of Yangon are crowded with cars. We try to be strategic about going anywhere. Yesterday morning, a taxi took Susan and me to the Central Train Station. When we returned from our 3-hour circular trip of Yangon (cost = $1), the taxi got us back in 15 minutes.
Khin lives in a 6th floor condo. When Connie was here a year and a half ago, she could not stay with Khin, due to government regulations. And the parking lot had 3 cars in it. Now 3 dozen white cars are parked in the parking lot for these 4 buildings.
Change is happening fast/slow here in Myanmar/Burma. Lots more cars, but the same streets that the British laid out a century ago. Pilings for skyscrapers are being driven in the ground beside bamboo thatched shacks.
For now, we can still see the Shwe Dagon temple and Aung San Suu Kyi’s house from Khin’s balcony. But next year, these views will be blocked by “progress.”