My favorite way to explore a place is just wandering by foot. I’ll take walking over public transportation or a scooter any day. The opportunity to randomly stumble onto something amazing or interact with locals is so much higher. On this particular day I was very keen on finding Mandalay’s stone-carving district, where you can find huge marble Buddha statues being created. Hannah decided to join me on my expedition to the other side of the city. I had heard some rumors that the district had been moved elsewhere, so I had no idea if our cause was lost.
First of all, Hannah is an amazing lady who is traveling the world and still has such exuberance and passion for adventure. I hope to be like her one day. After spending 12 years in New York, she’s back in Israel running her own business. Also, she has convinced me that Tel Aviv is the place to be, so I’m adding that to my destination list. We talk about everything, mainly all the Israeli guys she wants to set me up with (kidding, but not really). Eventually we get to the topic of betel nut.
Hannah – “Why do they all chew it?”
Me – “Well, they say that when they chew it they don’t want to go to sleep.”
H – “We should try it.”
Me – “Wait what?!”
Of course, one thing lead to another and we’re on the hunt for a betel nut stand (which is not difficult as they’re everywhere). We find one which is crowded by a bunch of Burmese men with red splotches on the ground around it. They are looking at us curiously and are very clearly buzzing. Hannah points to one of the wrapped up things asking how much. The lady making them smiles and laughs, with red-stained teeth herself. The men are very amused that these foreigners want to give it a go. They hold out one for each of us, refusing to accept our money. Grabbing the wrap, I’m thinking YOLO to myself. Life is short and it’s all about experiences, so why not.
We each put the wrap in our mouths and begin to slowly chew. The taste is not what I expected, it’s weird and tangy. We exchange glances that say, “I need to spit this out ASAP.” We could not do this in front of them as they had just given us a gift— that would be extremely rude. We smile at them as if we’re really enjoying it and they laugh. Hannah grabs me by the arm as we mumble out our thank yous and walk away quickly. “Don’t spit it out yet, keep walking!” she says. We walk away hurriedly waiting for a corner to turn at. At first chance I spit the mess out. Nope, nope, nope. Not doing that again.
Making our way to where I think the stone carving district is, I continue to ask people where the actual location is. Of course, no one understands me when I say “stone carving,” so I have to pull out my phone and show them a photo of a person chiseling out a buddha. Pantomiming and pictures are universal. Can’t tell you how many times showing people a picture of an avocado has worked when I’m really craving one.
When we get there we are in complete awe. There are endless marble slabs and statues surrounding us. The area is rich with sounds of hammers and drills. White dust fills the air. We curiously walk into a few of the shops asking if we can get a closer look. Statues are in every stage of the process: some are sanding statues away while others are carving out the face of Buddha. I spoke with a couple of people about the statues, asking about prices and how they’re able to transport the enormous ones. The buddhas are mainly reserved for the countless temples all over Southeast Asia. It was very impressive.
I say this over and over again, but Burmese people are so friendly.They loved how interested we were in their work. Cars full of people would wave to us in excitement. Every time we stopped at a street food stand, they would urge us to try or give us some for free. Thailand is considered the land of smiles, but I’d argue that Myanmar is the true owner of that title. Their friendliness continued to follow us as we wandered the streets and stumbled upon a huge market. It was very clear that foreigners hardly ever walk through this market, and to be fair, it was in the outskirts of Mandalay. Honestly, this made it so much better. Speaking the very little Burmese I knew, which included only “Mingalaba” (hello) and “Cezu tinbadeh” (thank you) made them all laugh and grin ear to ear.
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I made a new friend at the market, a very old monk who appeared to around 90 years old. Monks love to practice their English, and this one was no different. He came right up to me as I was trying a Burmese tapioca dish (which I think gave me food poisoning for a second time), wondering where I was from, my life story, and why I had come to Myanmar. So often I’m asked why I went to Myanmar— they are so curious why foreigners would be drawn to their country. Regardless, this particular monk seemed so wise and happy. Just speaking to him I felt calm and relaxed. The rest of the day continued to put a smile on my face, from the group of kids who were so fascinated with us and photobombed all my photos, to all the people chilling and having picnics among the railroad tracks. Myanmar is a special country, and I’m naively hoping that it never changes.
