tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15745131678868567782024-03-21T06:57:52.024-07:00ashwritesashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-34101639808505822092016-03-21T02:01:00.001-07:002016-03-21T02:01:41.431-07:00Incredible Inle<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wkEzHcikv6s" width="480"></iframe>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-34225898667225602832015-12-01T02:28:00.000-08:002015-12-03T21:49:03.062-08:00OFF THE BEATEN TRACK- Part 4: Under the sea fun at Port Douglas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset at Port Douglas</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pristine beaches of Port Douglas</td></tr>
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By Aswathy Kumar</div>
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After departing Daintree we made our way through Mossman, the gateway to the famous Mossman Gorge. On reaching the main center, we had to take tickets to get on board a shuttle that took us to the various hiking trails that led us to walking platforms and scenic viewpoints, all surrounded by lush green tropical rainforests and overlooking the Mossman River. Though swimming was not recommended here due to the rocky granite boulders that are in plenty, we were told it was okay to soak our feet in its crystal waters. Though the feeling of the gurgling water against our skin was nothing short of blissful, my personal favorite and I bet my dare-devil daughter’s as well at Mossman was walking over the suspension bridge over the river. It was a lot of fun and even a bit scary trying to balance ourselves on the dangling bridge, pretending as though we had magically found our way into some Indiana Jones movie. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mossman Gorge</td></tr>
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It was almost noon by the time we reached our last and most highly anticipated destinations, Port Douglas. I will be honest and admit that this was the part of the trip I was the most nervous about. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing scary about this cute little town with its boutique style shops, pristine beaches, breathtakingly beautiful coastline and sea-side cafes. Here I had even gotten the part I had been so eagerly waiting for, the romance element of our entire trip. But even while walking hand in hand with my husband, enjoying the beauty of the pacific ocean, I couldn’t help but the think of the big adventure that we were about to embark on the very next morning, an adventure that drove almost all adrenaline junkies to this part of the world. An adventure called The Great Barrier Reef. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging Bridge at Mossman</td></tr>
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I could almost hear the sound of my heart beat amidst the splashing of rough waves as I boarded the monstrous catamaran that was going to take us to the Agincourt Reef, a ribbon-like reef located on the edge of what is best referred to as the ultimate underwater playground. Pronounced a world heritage site, The Great Barrier Reef is considered to host the largest coral reef systems in the world. On board we were given a number of safety instructions ranging from a few easy ones like don’t throw food in the water or stand on the corals to more eerie ones that drove my anxiety to a whole new level like not to touch any marine animals lest they sting or disable you completely or learning a few crucial hand signals viz. we see a shark. </div>
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Each one of us were given a lycra suit and also given a number of optional tours that we could sign up for while we were there. For the non-swimmers and the less adventurous there was the underwater observatory, a mini submarine drive and a helmet dive to explore all the reef had to offer. For the extravagant and those wanting to enjoy the beauty from a distance there was the scenic helicopter drive and for the rest there was diving, snorkeling and guided marine biologist tours to get up close and personal to pretty coral gardens and exotic marine life ranging from sting rays, clown fish, parrot fish turtles and even Minke whales, if you are really lucky.</div>
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It was a full day tour and I must admit, snorkeling in the middle of the deep blue sea and amidst choppy waters was definitely a lot harder than I taught. There were moments I ran out of breath and moments I felt my arms could no longer move, moments I wished I was back in the comfort of my hotel, beneath the warmth of my blanket. The chilled salads and cold cuts served on board did nothing to my Indian palette but I was here, right in the midst of the largest and the most spectacular reef systems in the world. I had embraced it, survived it and conquered this majestic reef in my own little way, one flipper at a time. And that was a feeling I wasn’t going to forget in a very long time…</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vedika enjoying some snorkeling fun at Agincourt Reef</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Barrier hosts the largest Coral Reef systems in the world</td></tr>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-47370706307733773922015-11-19T07:42:00.000-08:002015-11-19T08:09:00.570-08:00OFF THE BEATEN TRACK-PART 3: Nature at its best at Daintree<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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By Aswathy Kumar</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cruising along the Daintree River offers some spectacular views of this World's oldest rainforest</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Experience heaven on earth at Daintree</span></td></tr>
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To reach our next destination in Daintree, located in the north east coast of Queensland, a destination that could only be best termed as a tropical paradise, we had to fly into Cairns and drive an hour and a half through the picturesque coastline of Port Douglas. It was slowly starting to get dark and we couldn’t see much. But hear...that we did, in plenty, making it certain that we had finally arrived in what was the world’s oldest surviving rainforest. Be it the eerie screeches of the spotted catbird, fluttering noises of the Victoria’s rifle bird, a species only found here, to the croaking of the white lipped tree frogs and the gurgling sounds of the Daintree River close by. I could tell that this forest had only started to come alive in the darkness of the night. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Daintree Eco lodge</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">At Cassowary Falls</span></td></tr>
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One of the major highlights of our trip was the place we had chosen to spent the next two nights. A quaint yet luxurious eco lodge; each of its rooms strategically positioned on top of stilts to capture the beauty of the dense canopy surrounding us. Imagine witnessing the sight of over hundred butterflies flittering to life in the early hours of the morning (almost two-thirds of Australia’s butterfly species are found here) or simply marveling at the awe-inspiring King Fern, Australia’s largest fern with fronds extending up to 5m long, all while sipping a cup of cappuccino in the comfort of your tree-top verandah? Bliss!</div>
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Following our customized made-to-order breakfast, it was time to explore and find out what more this nature paradise had in store for us. And if for some reason, we had assumed that we had seen and absorbed enough of Daintree's beauty all by sitting in our aerial accommodation, we were instantly proven wrong as we stepped out of the lodge and made way to start our morning cruise across the Daintree River. </div>
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Now what can I say about the beauty that had started to unfold in front of us. Despite calling myself a writer, all I can come up with are nothing but a few honest cliches like... <i>‘If there was a heaven then this must be it </i>or<i> that this was probably the way God intended Earth to be </i>and so on. Crystal waters so clear coincided with the blue skies above. A beauty so unfathomable that if you clicked an image, you would probably not be able to tell if it was the picture of the sky you were looking at or simply its reflection in the cool waters. </div>
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Lush rainforest and mangroves surrounded the Daintree River, which is one of the longest rivers on the Australian East Coast (extending upto 140 kms). Here you can see pre-historic crocodiles, view innumerable species of birds like the Macleay's honeyeater, comb-crested Jacana and the Forest Kingfisher amongst many others or simply imbibe the true beauty of this wet tropics. If you are feeling even more adventurous, you can also join one of the fishing boats and try you luck at catching the famous Baramundi, Australia is so famous for. </div>
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Having no such desires yet unsatiated with what this magnificent forest had to offer, we chose to head out to the next highly recommended attractions in Daintree, the Cassowary Falls. Located in a private farmland, we had to rent a 4 wheel drive and pay a fee at a local convenience store to reach this scenic location. The drive itself through the bumpy rugged mushy pathway was enough to excite the adrenaline junkie in us not to forget the grand finale, which was the view of the magnificent waterfall. Cassowary Falls was one of the few spots in Daintree where we could jump in. But beware! The water is home to a number of humongous fish, eels and turtles that might just want to get a little more cosy than desired. </div>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-25187023419185856322015-10-11T23:04:00.000-07:002015-10-12T01:36:30.625-07:00From tailor-made to custom made : A Designer’s Journey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">From assisting her mother in her tailoring business as a little girl to designing the finale gown for Miss Myanmar at the International pageants… Be it her celebrity customers, knockout fashion shows or creative fair, Latt Latt has indeed emerged as the most sought after designers in the country today</i></div>
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By Aswathy Kumar</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latt Latt</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latt Latt with her models</td></tr>
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I still remember the first time I walked into the Lady Latt shop, a small store nestled in the corner of where Kabaya Pagoda Road meets Parami Road. I was quite new to Yangon but had already fallen head over heels in love with the traditional longyi, a straight fit sarong style wrap-around skirt teamed with a matching fitted blouse. I had seen the local women wear it with such finesse that I thought it was high time I owned my very own pair. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latt Latt with Miss Myanmar World 2015 Khin Yadanar Thein Myint</td></tr>
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The shop was rather modest, just like any other tailor shops in the city. Though small, beautiful silk fabrics in every possible color adorned the glass cases and mannequins displaying some exquisite evening gowns embellished with handcrafted jewels and intricately woven embroidery surrounded me. I announced that I wanted to get a custom-made longyi. I wanted it to be simple yet unique, traditional yet edgy. As I stood there nervously wondering if the lady in front of me understood what I had in mind, she smiled, took out her notepad and drew one of the most exquisite dress designs I had ever witnessed. Little did I know then that the unassuming yet charming lady in front of me was one of the top designers in Myanmar today, renowned for her international shows, trendy haute couture and innumerable celebrity clients including the award winning singer, actor Htun Aeindra Bo, actor Thet Mon Myint, May Than Nu, Miss Myanmar Universe 2016 Htet Htet Htun and Miss Myanmar World 2015 Khin Yadanar Thein Myint. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Myanmar Universe 2015, May Barani Thaw in Latt Latt creation<br>
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“It all started with my mother,” says Latt Latt, sitting behind her office desk, casually clad in a pair of white trouser and lacy top. “I would come back from school and go straight to her shop and watch her for hours.” Despite having a science background, a Bachelor’s degree in Botany to be exact and the absence of any design schools in the country, Latt Latt knew that she always wanted to be a designer. “For us there was no option of going to any design school or getting a degree in the field. Whatever I learnt, I did from my mother. She taught me how to sew and very soon, I started making my own sketches and realized that this is what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.”</div>
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Talking about her biggest support system she says, nothing would have been possible if it weren't for her family. “When I told my mother, this is what I wanted to do, she simply told me to follow my heart. My sisters and I had the full freedom to pursue any career of our choice.” And that’s exactly how Latt Latt wants to be with her two daughters, aged 16 and 5. “Though secretly I would love them to be designers too,” she laughs. And her biggest fan? “My younger sister Nge Nge is my biggest fan and also my toughest client. Probably the most fashion conscious in our family, she refuses to repeat even a single outfit,” she smiles.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>The longyi is constantly evolving,<br>but it is here to stay</i>- Latt Latt</td></tr>
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Latt latt’s designs can be possibly termed as the perfect synthesis of conventional and contemporary. Talking about the changing fashion trends in the country she says, “The traditional longyi is constantly evolving. Clients always want something different yet comfortable. For the skirts, the customary wrap-style ones are long gone. Zippers have replaced hooks and as far as the tops are concerned they are getting trendier by the day.” At a recent fashion show, Latt Latt incorporated Jade and copper wire into her designs. Though she loves making contemporary outfits, she says the traditional longyi will always have a special place in her designs. </div>
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But does she worry that with the changing market and the entry of big international retail giants into the country, there would be a drastic change in the shopping patterns of her clients? Will the concept of making custom-made outfits that has constantly been the trend in Myanmar slowly start to disappear? “Absolutely not,” says Latt Latt. “No western outfit can ever replace our national dress. Even my daughters who prefer wearing jeans and dresses have to wear the longyi for every special occasion. And fortunately a good longyi has to be a custom-made.”</div>
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The journey from a tailor to a full fledged designer has been incredible and to a certain extent unexpected for Latt Latt. With already two shops, several national and international shows including Miss People fashion show, Nikko Bridal Show, SEA Games, ASEAN Fashion show and Miss Myanmar World under her belt, she says that there are no plans to leave her hometown in Yangon to expand her business. “Yes the fashion industry may be much bigger and more established in other parts of the world, but my heart will always be here in Myanmar. This is my home and this is where I always want to be.”</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latt Latt's latest design incorporating copper and jade elements</td></tr>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-22308235775054473372015-10-07T05:53:00.001-07:002015-10-07T05:53:52.129-07:00Magnificent Mara<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpgQqlPQsdNLV5zjQD3vb75DhUVxAXbdfV1Kj729HWfFLCu-qej3jxwUBiKUT047V6_UTRIY5SFow1d-C9LNXeKRkFznu3rBwq0q7hEsblEiuEWpHvX3gwc7PtV5ckYN7kTPQb8NKehzM/s640/blogger-image-186707387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpgQqlPQsdNLV5zjQD3vb75DhUVxAXbdfV1Kj729HWfFLCu-qej3jxwUBiKUT047V6_UTRIY5SFow1d-C9LNXeKRkFznu3rBwq0q7hEsblEiuEWpHvX3gwc7PtV5ckYN7kTPQb8NKehzM/s640/blogger-image-186707387.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Latest from travel & Flavors. This month it's all about exploring the grasslands of Mara<div>http://issuu.com/dcmedia/docs/t_f_october_2015_pdf_for_web?e=4687512/30523850</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzgwd6KxYl82lxO6N4AWKFHil_fB9vw1WUZsaMG1hvdiK8Y7RAf7sG5LHx8ky0CETgx3s2xddd-MMg3b9VchC5su8VeO0x0TU9sn24ysDeJe0VYdK92FU9aXqYePeux_MDMqzCh_wDHFI/s640/blogger-image-95566415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzgwd6KxYl82lxO6N4AWKFHil_fB9vw1WUZsaMG1hvdiK8Y7RAf7sG5LHx8ky0CETgx3s2xddd-MMg3b9VchC5su8VeO0x0TU9sn24ysDeJe0VYdK92FU9aXqYePeux_MDMqzCh_wDHFI/s640/blogger-image-95566415.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_GNf675K_y3F-UJ44CzNyEQzinFoAGfOJwbGqoxAZpT7LyKxNW6Mie0LJJA7tdIfQ2Yl96J2WZfiox5-1hMVi62LPj9NFqxdj6zMsdwML3xu3hnhmSH6IxK73OUIzP9AlSo4Onq4hTIS/s640/blogger-image--170069772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_GNf675K_y3F-UJ44CzNyEQzinFoAGfOJwbGqoxAZpT7LyKxNW6Mie0LJJA7tdIfQ2Yl96J2WZfiox5-1hMVi62LPj9NFqxdj6zMsdwML3xu3hnhmSH6IxK73OUIzP9AlSo4Onq4hTIS/s640/blogger-image--170069772.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDRU0q3-ZDdlWiVCIq9ZYAuIL_SLROnkhoKdiEFZfzjduXI5LtcxHPHj7LL6idN-9tmV91Ry8hK9B_JqfgN6bTbYbjwRSe-bVKautJDM_c-YGGKvp2kRcBvfTYUWJGdfA6zVtRf_9tsWw/s640/blogger-image-1460607065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDRU0q3-ZDdlWiVCIq9ZYAuIL_SLROnkhoKdiEFZfzjduXI5LtcxHPHj7LL6idN-9tmV91Ry8hK9B_JqfgN6bTbYbjwRSe-bVKautJDM_c-YGGKvp2kRcBvfTYUWJGdfA6zVtRf_9tsWw/s640/blogger-image-1460607065.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga7uAIUsMyG_syZe7LTBab5uxOuYvVOx5bXDBzgcjXDCxh1QYd2LFZLrEbO76EiT6_-K5G_8aD6HYqn7A7NnWjDM5L3f9EGLjSyMEjlTBMvcLF-jyL1svtSl_11YQXV4dnTQvBTPhgZ2SF/s640/blogger-image-34353550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga7uAIUsMyG_syZe7LTBab5uxOuYvVOx5bXDBzgcjXDCxh1QYd2LFZLrEbO76EiT6_-K5G_8aD6HYqn7A7NnWjDM5L3f9EGLjSyMEjlTBMvcLF-jyL1svtSl_11YQXV4dnTQvBTPhgZ2SF/s640/blogger-image-34353550.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-61645139454026238962015-09-23T08:22:00.001-07:002015-09-24T07:32:27.242-07:00Eat, pray, love Yangon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">From devouring its exquisite cuisine to treading the holy grounds of the innumerable pagodas and falling in love with the simplicity and humility, its streets have to offer, here are my top 5 reasons why Yangon should be on your list of places to visit</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">By Aswathy Kumar</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">‘What about Macau?’ Bali? Fine at least let’s do Bangkok.’</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">These were probably the constant suggestions we got from our friends every time we insisted that they visit us in Yangon. You see, there are plenty of perks of living the expatriate life here, but the distance from your loved ones can really take its toll sometimes. Though we have been extremely successful in convincing our family and friends to visit us in our previous two postings, DC & Nairobi, we haven't had much luck when it came to Yangon. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">‘There is nothing to do there.’ </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>‘We have heard, that there aren't even any shopping malls or multiplexes,</i>’ our friends would say. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I agree… Yangon has no fancy shopping malls like in Bangkok, strong cultural scene like in China nor any family friendly hot-spots like in Singapore. But Yangon is a place like no other and here’s what makes it unique and truly exceptional.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The Shwedagon Pagoda </span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shwedagon Pagoda</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It would be almost wrong or even to an extend inauspicious to talk about Yangon, without mentioning the Shwedagon Pagoda that epitomizes the very warmth and serenity that defines the city of Yangon. Probably the very first thing that you will see as you enter the city, the Shwedagon Pagoda is a shrine you need to see to believe. Towering at a 325 feet, no visit to the city is considered complete without paying your respects here. Housed in a sprawling area, extending up to 114 acres, not only is the Shwedagon a complete architectural wonder, it is also the symbol of hope, divinity and reverence. Watching it glimmer in all its glory during sunrise or sunset, courtesy the 1800 carat diamond orb at the very top, is something beyond spectacular. During sunset you can also marvel at the sight of over 1000’s of oil lamps encircling the pagoda shimmering to life, hear the silent whispers of hundreds of monks chanting or listen to the bustle of devotees as they offer their prayers at the several shrines and temples in gold, housed all around its premises. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The Market Scene</span></b><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Trying on a longyi at Bogyoke</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Agreed Yangon definitely lacks glitzy shopping malls and finding your favorite brands here can almost be next to impossible. As expats, we even struggle with finding basic stuff like socks, shoes or decent clothes for our little ones, often making us run to nearby Bangkok to fulfill all our shopping needs. But that being said, Yangon’s markets are truly a class apart. Take the famous Bogyoke market. Visiting this market is almost like exploring a </span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;">hidden treasure chest, offering a new surprise every time you dig a little deeper. I still remember the first time I visited Bogyoke. It reminded me of the local markets I had explored back home in Delhi… though a stroll around quickly ensured that the riches that adorned its streets was something I had never experienced before in any part of the world.</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Find stones in every possible color<br>
and value at Bogyoke</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sparkly jewels in possibly every color lay scattered all over the little glass cases in the innumerable shops aligning every nook and corner of the market. I had carried $100 with me, thinking it was way sufficient to return with a bag-load of goodies. Little did I know that, these sparkly stones that lay around in these unguarded unimpressive cases where in fact real precious stones, some costing even upto a $60,000.</span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;">From blue sapphires to pigeon blood rubies to amethyst, blue topaz, citron, garnet to what not; glitterred in the dull orange light. Forget jewels and semi precious stones, there is a lot the market has to offer if you are on a budget and looking for some retail therapy at a lot less, like hand woven longyis, accessories, colorful flip flops, paintings by local artists, wood carvings, exquisite lacquerware, silverware and religious artifacts to name just a few. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To also experience Yangon in its true self and understand more about how the locals live, head out to the various wet markets like the ones in China town or the popular Thiri Minglar Zei. Witness a burst of colors as you see hoards and hoards of vegetables, fruits and flowers being sold in plenty at these local markets. What I call, Yangon’s own version of a farmer’s market, here you can find fresh produce for as cheap as 300-1000Kyat. Believe it or not a whole bunch of orchids cost a mere 3000Kyat (Less than $3) and who wouldn’t love a brilliant bargain?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Food</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I was in DC, my idea of the Burmese cuisine would begin and end with Khow Suey (Curried egg noodles in coconut milk). One visit to the innumerable local tea shops and road-side restaurants in Yangon, proved how ignorant I had been all these years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When it comes to Burmese food, the choices are simply unlimited comprising a large number of noodle based dishes like the famous breakfast dish of rice noodles in a fish based soup and topped with fried fritters called the Mohinga, Kyah oh, vermicelli noodles in a pork based soup; salads dishes like the popular pickled tea leaf salad, Lahpet and Htamin thoke, a popular rice salad with tomato puree, potato and dried shrimp to several Chinese influenced dishes like the steamed pork buns or Pauk see, Htamin gyaw (Fried rice with egg) and Kaw yay khauk swè (curried noodles with duck or pork and eggs) and Indian-inspired dishes like the palatas (similar to our layered paratha) and Dan bauk (biryani). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Though there is new restaurant cropping up in the city every week offering a variety of international cuisine ranging from Mexican, Indian to Thai, Italian and French, to experience the real flavor of Yangon, head to these tiny tea shops embellished by their neatly aligned colorful miniature plastic chairs selling chai, fried local savories and dishes. For a complete Myanmar barbecue & beer experience, you can also head to the famous 19th street aka China town where you can see glass cabinets displaying a variety of fish, meats and veggies in skewers. A glass of chilled local Myanmar beer and you are ready to rock the night, Yangon style</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">People…</span></b><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;">…one of the many reasons, I fell head over heels in love with this city. Though I loved DC and truly cherish the friendships I made during my stay there, I wont be lying if I said that I was grateful to be finally free from the suited bureaucrats I encountered everyday in the metro, their faces permanently glued to their iPhones, appointment-only playdates and the oh-so-artificial hellos and greetings in the elevators. </span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friendly, enchanting and always smiling</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Extremely friendly, helpful and enchanting, people in Yangon always have a smile on their <i>thanaka </i>smeared faces, that can almost instantly relax anyone. And what’s more… they love taking pictures, so click away without having to worry that someone may call the cops. Go to any supermarket with a toddler and they are certain to fuss all over your little one and may even offer to baby sit while you shopped around.</span><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Always eager to help, I still remember the time I tripped on one of my market trips. A crowd had gathered almost instantly, and unlike in India where they would just stand around and enjoy the show or like in DC, where they would simply carry on with their affairs as if you were invisible, here each one of them were seriously concerned about my injury. While one boy ran and came back with a traditional ointment for my twisted angle, another grabbed a seat for me to rest and a third guy, quickly returned with a cold coffee from a nearby cafe. </span><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That’s Yangon for you. Okay, maybe they dont speak a word of English or barely understand you…and maybe even the waiters at restaurants may not have received any formal training in the hospitality industry, but their constant friendly and dazzling smiles are more than enough to brighten up any day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Ever wondered how life would have been in the good old days? Where people had time to sit around in front of little tea shops and discuss the daily news while sipping a cup of hot chai, or splash around in small rain water puddles in the middle of a hot summer afternoon. A time when people where not caught up in some mad rat race and actually had the time to say hello. A time of unreliable wifi connections, zero flyovers and nonexistent skyscrapers. A time when the only way to find out what’s on the menu in a restaurant was by actually going there and not by scrolling through any website. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If yes, then Yangon is probably your best bet to take you back to the past, where everything was a lot simpler and more beautiful. Travel back in time as you stroll amidst the colonial buildings in downtown Yangon, watch the local men play a game of Chinlon ( a traditional game where you are expected to keep a single rattan ball in the air by using a combination of knees, feet and heads) on an early Monday morning, take a slow ride on the famous circular train to absorb the wondrous sights this charming city has to offer or take a ferry or a trishaw ride to imbibe the true feeling of Yangon, a city that seem to have completely frozen in time. </span><br>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-42403399155371100442015-09-21T00:48:00.000-07:002015-09-21T01:21:07.960-07:00OFF THE BEATEN TRACK PART-2 : Plunging into waterfalls at Litchfield National Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Romancing the falls at Litchfield National Park<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHcNjcK-7J57gnegaV1Jf6VQ_FgG9jbYXRDflEMj-xYA5CtBSL-uxfKm6AXtyqs_lfFwLQCcO1y8Wh5h0vrBbhyphenhyphend0pbvw9RCtV5-E1E0zxe-wgQ8Evj4PLQBZGl-d7MOecCAxjZVViR2I/s1600/DSC_0423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHcNjcK-7J57gnegaV1Jf6VQ_FgG9jbYXRDflEMj-xYA5CtBSL-uxfKm6AXtyqs_lfFwLQCcO1y8Wh5h0vrBbhyphenhyphend0pbvw9RCtV5-E1E0zxe-wgQ8Evj4PLQBZGl-d7MOecCAxjZVViR2I/s640/DSC_0423.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<b></b>By Aswathy Kumar<br />
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At a mere 116 kms from Darwin, many prefer to take a day trip to this picturesque national park in Batchelor, a small town located south of Darwin. But we had done our research and seen some spectacular shots of this sprawling park (extending over 1500 square kms and original home of the Wagait Aboriginal people) and knew instantly that it well deserved more than just a day. From Kakadu, we reached Batchelor around early noon and our first stop was at a nearby convenience store to stock up on some basic supplies like eggs, bread, cereal, some instant noodles and frozen ready-to-eat food packets. There are no fancy restaurants or luxurious hotels in Litchfield and accommodations are minimalistic though comfortable. Since we were a rather spoilt Indian lot and not used to the basic outdoor campsites that were in plenty at Litchfield, we opted for a basic yet fully equipped cabin accommodation, a mere 30 minute drive to the famous park. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Termite Mounds, Litchfield National Park</td></tr>
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As there was nothing too exciting to the rooms and there was no point lounging around; after a quick meal of some instant noodles, we immediately headed out to explore Litchfield, renowned for its tranquil waterfalls, scenic landscapes and romantic picnic spots. Our first stop was the Magnetic and Cathedral Termite Mounds, considered to be one of the most fascinating sights at the park. Here, you can witness over hundreds of perfectly aligned termite mounds, each extending up to almost 2 meters in height. We didn't have to pay any fees to witness this marvel, got to take some fantastic shots and my seven year old had a ball of a time pretending to be an alien in some strange planet. </div>
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The mounds were no doubt anything short of spectacular but nothing would have prepared me for what I was about to experience next. Now many a times especially in some crazy teen movie or chick flicks, have I seen crazy teenagers dive into plunge pools and push each other off from rocky ledges into the crystal waters. Never had I expected 30-something responsible parents like my husband and I or 60-something in-laws to act the same. We arrived at the Bully water-hole, one of the many places you are allowed to take a dip. (Many waterholes are considered unsafe due to crocodile sightings especially during rainy season). Though we had no bathing-suits on and was completely unprepared, it did not stop us from plunging into the blue and experiencing the strong gush of its forceful waters against our skin, push each other off from rocky platforms, all while enjoying the brilliant view of the stoney ledges and plush green forests surrounding the series of cascading water-falls and rock-holes. We were grateful that the campsite offered good toilet facilities and changing rooms to dry ourselves off before walking upstream to a next equally picturesque picnic spot, the Florence Falls.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhSSN8esKbLjLLSkJzrq0y4YyzipHJok-mj16bwHs2rEes3ckWKl0Zgh8Hhg739Zefdi-LnTmwQauS7YNrZgkBII5rqybpGzXdXnroeVhQw5N-JvvYKJCdRZofDquPw3XcfNqzugs6Rvl/s1600/DSC_0408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhSSN8esKbLjLLSkJzrq0y4YyzipHJok-mj16bwHs2rEes3ckWKl0Zgh8Hhg739Zefdi-LnTmwQauS7YNrZgkBII5rqybpGzXdXnroeVhQw5N-JvvYKJCdRZofDquPw3XcfNqzugs6Rvl/s640/DSC_0408.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Florence Falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZBCesWGT7lpAQ4SFdX0yCV0W0BTSHY1IDltgxP4NmNaQiYWE4WbInOE1lX16PfiLt8UvwJQywG8Prs6XQZRaLOKLG_Xo-B0JZ07NG0FUJm5qNs-CN9zaa1J_ByooeZWXrgP-4_oz0Ggl/s1600/DSC_0463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZBCesWGT7lpAQ4SFdX0yCV0W0BTSHY1IDltgxP4NmNaQiYWE4WbInOE1lX16PfiLt8UvwJQywG8Prs6XQZRaLOKLG_Xo-B0JZ07NG0FUJm5qNs-CN9zaa1J_ByooeZWXrgP-4_oz0Ggl/s640/DSC_0463.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wangi Falls<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;"></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It was just a 3km walk from the Buley Rockhole to the viewing platform at Florence falls that offered panoramic views of the double falls surrounded by the tranquil monsoon forest. As my in-laws and my daughter decided to stay put and enjoy the view from above, my husband and I slowly made our way down the 160 steps to get up close to the falls. The walk was not only highly romantic, considering we were the only ones there and my husband had out of the blue decided to pull me closer for a quick kiss, we were also lucky to have spotted a wallaby that had stopped by to say hello. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: left;">After a meal of Chicken Schnitzel and fries at the popular Wangi Cafe located beside the famous Wangi Falls, another great location to get some wonderful shots, we headed back to our accommodation. We knew we needed a good night’s sleep that night. After all, our adventure had only just begun…</span></div>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-89212750728245554042015-09-15T02:25:00.000-07:002015-09-15T04:34:32.089-07:00OFF THE BEATEN TRACK<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><i>Our Great Australian Outback Extravaganza</i></b></div>
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By Aswathy Kumar</div>
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<i>“South Africa…perfect for wildlife?” </i></div>
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<i>“How about Europe…so romantic.”</i></div>
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<i>“I think we should do Philippines…heard their beaches are absolutely spectacular.”</i></div>
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It was my mother-in-law’s big 60th and we were finding it hard to choose a destination for our annual family vacation. After all we were a rather extraordinary group with extremely different ideas of what a holiday should be like. There was my mother-in-law a complete, wild life enthusiast, my husband: the adrenaline junkie, my father-in-law, a devout food fanatic, an inquisitive seven year old, my daughter and finally me, a die-hard romantic whose idea of fun was sauntering barefoot on an isolated beach or enjoying a candle-light dinner under a star-studded sky. In short, an interesting mix of people with rather distinct tastes.</div>
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“How about Australia then?” Suggested my husband. “It’s pretty massive and I am sure we can find something that each one of us like.” And boy was as he right! Be it getting up, close and personal with the gigantic salt water crocodiles at Kakadu National Park, plunging into the scenic water falls at Litchfield, taking a romantic hike under the rainforest canopy at Daintree, snorkeling with some of the most exotic marine life at The Great Barrier Reef to shop-hopping and experiencing city life at its best in Sydney, this monstrous continent did have it all.</div>
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<b><i>Part 1</i></b></div>
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<b>Into the wild at Kakadu National Park</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweyJWR2GwQtLGkSbsIvXSF6AR_naSG5yq7Uxe1FkBH_kP17sjIgqFIkoNr8Qf52ORA7U9ZBIjc_Beph42v7ARwyqOGNTYpVnW-Ej3R2kk7uid-zU_lXs6C_zqRfVxGkh8aKtLRXSZOW71/s1600/DSC_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweyJWR2GwQtLGkSbsIvXSF6AR_naSG5yq7Uxe1FkBH_kP17sjIgqFIkoNr8Qf52ORA7U9ZBIjc_Beph42v7ARwyqOGNTYpVnW-Ej3R2kk7uid-zU_lXs6C_zqRfVxGkh8aKtLRXSZOW71/s640/DSC_0041.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Scenic landscapes and wetlands make for spectacular view at Kakadu National Park</i></td></tr>
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The sun had slowly started to set as we arrived at our very first stop, Kakadu National park, a 20,000 square km sprawling park declared a World Heritage Site. A mere four hour drive from the closest International airport in Darwin, we were almost certain that we had finally arrived in the famous Park when the colorless highways and drive-in restaurants started to give way to scenic landscapes splattered with hues of green, scarlet and tangerine and the shrill sounds of thousands of birds soaring in the evening sky started to echo in the background replacing the annoying sounds of sneering vehicles. Picturesque wetlands, embellished with white and purple lilies, characteristic of Kakadu told us that we were close to our destination. Home to over 2000 species of flora and fauna, I immediately knew that Kakadu was definitely going to be the perfect concoction of wilderness and beauty. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Most of the wetlands are inhibited by the saltwater and freshwater crocodiles</i></td></tr>
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One of the first things that welcomed us here, were the<i> 'Beware of crocodiles</i>’ and danger signs <br />
that were splattered all across the seemingly harmless wetlands, all deceiving us from the danger that lurked right beneath its calm waters. Northern Australia is home to two species, the estuarine (saltwater) and the freshwater crocodiles that are seen in plenty in this region to the extent that any water body that is not mentioned safe for swimming, is better left untouched.</div>
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But then again we had travelled this far and that too with my fauna fanatic mother-in-law, so there was no way we were going to leave without getting a sneak-peek. A quick meal and rest later we were walking on top of a wooden bridge, leading us straight towards the Jim Jim Creek, where we boarded our boat that would take us around the Yellow Water Billabong, probably the best and safest way to get up close to these monstrous beasts and experience wilderness at its very best. The Yellow Water Billabong, Kakadu's most famous wetland is also the largest in Kakadu and contains extensive wetlands including floodplains, swamps, river channels and a large number of species of birds and animals.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUMRuMS-X7hfNfNPViSPn5yqDezE4y870V5K8jfrQAl-7dS6rrqGigsbvbT3Gx18kzjz4zryoMEHLzxRUwrpxO6JVF_zv2BpOiZCQtHJx1MH5LbXhev2aXOgroEZlRDQQ1RZRp_ovD070/s1600/DSC_0242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUMRuMS-X7hfNfNPViSPn5yqDezE4y870V5K8jfrQAl-7dS6rrqGigsbvbT3Gx18kzjz4zryoMEHLzxRUwrpxO6JVF_zv2BpOiZCQtHJx1MH5LbXhev2aXOgroEZlRDQQ1RZRp_ovD070/s640/DSC_0242.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Yellow Water Billabong</td></tr>
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Now I have seen crocodiles in plenty at the zoo and even gotten pretty close to a rather humongous one at Crocosorous Cove, in Darwin. But nothing would have prepared me for what I was about to experience in the next one hour. I still remember the feeling as we spotted our very first crocodile. It was about 4.2 meters and could have been easily mistaken for a floating log. But this one was in no way going to let us pass without letting us know its presence or establish its territory, choosing to move as close as it can get to our boat and slowly cruising along with it.<i> “They like to taunt you and the crocodiles know no fear,” </i>our guide said warning us not to put our heads or hands outside. Apparently they can jump up to a height almost twice its own length and cases of crocodiles attacking humans were definitely not unknown in this wilderness.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlduIjKctr2vRQX26t_W_PNKdSGV0B-J1pEfibBx50YKaWWUwy4AcE0bxHrCOEfQy9cvN8UQOxJ_q5lUmUclme0t4oH2TbN0T_Do5H1ThEpafa-W6NNFezkNvuVRINXH026VuzHlIxHpZ6/s1600/DSC_0125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlduIjKctr2vRQX26t_W_PNKdSGV0B-J1pEfibBx50YKaWWUwy4AcE0bxHrCOEfQy9cvN8UQOxJ_q5lUmUclme0t4oH2TbN0T_Do5H1ThEpafa-W6NNFezkNvuVRINXH026VuzHlIxHpZ6/s400/DSC_0125.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>With my husband exploring the rocky escarpments at Kakadu</i> </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHESMKHPT638vke82kCIWWZ-wfJpDpAUFYDvxIm0b03Mfl4Pj5eifwdms-aWasS3ZS2f4FUbBlaFtIyTUl1dlfzvwDgOu95F_7PeSbxFhj-CWlUGTnG9kK4-0CIki2g1yzErmcVG90thXW/s1600/DSC_0137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHESMKHPT638vke82kCIWWZ-wfJpDpAUFYDvxIm0b03Mfl4Pj5eifwdms-aWasS3ZS2f4FUbBlaFtIyTUl1dlfzvwDgOu95F_7PeSbxFhj-CWlUGTnG9kK4-0CIki2g1yzErmcVG90thXW/s400/DSC_0137.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px;">As our cruise continued, we sat, clad in our plastic ponchos, in a rather unimpressive boat with strangers, soaking wet as the heavens had decided to open up just then, imbibing the several stories of this original Aboriginal lands, our guide was narrating with much enthusiasm. There was the one of the rainbow serpent, considered to be the protector, source of life and creation among the Aborigines, the original settlers of these lands. They believed it was the rainbow serpent that created the hills, valleys and the rivers along the way it moved. Then there was another and my personal favorite of Ginga or crocodile man who once got badly burnt and jumped into the river to save himself and later changed into the sandstone escarpments seen at Kakadu today. </span><br />
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The less eerier part of our trip was seeing the innumerable birds that swarmed the water body including large number of magpies, egrets, jacanas, herons and whistling ducks that had gathered around the tributary for our warm welcome. Kakadu hosts almost one-third of the total bird species found in this massive continent, not to forget the 2000 unique species of plants that make up for the fantastic scenery that unfolded in front of us. <br />
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Apart from the river cruise, the other best way to truly imbibe the spectacular, that is Kakadu, was to hike up to the various lookouts that offers panoramic view of the heritage site, which is exactly what we did the next day, making our way to the famous Gunwarddehwardde Lookout, where we could catch breathtaking views of Kakadu and the Nourlangie Rock. We were so fascinated by the various Aboriginal tales, we also decided to stop by the local Aboriginal cultural centers displaying rock art dating almost upto 20,000 years old.<br />
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Birds at Kakadu National park<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Australasian Darter</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cockatoo</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rufous Night Heron</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Whistling Ducks</i></td></tr>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-90624456008944475192015-09-10T02:42:00.002-07:002015-09-10T05:47:43.839-07:00The heart of baking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>A Rendezvous with Cavelle Dove, Co-founder of Yangon Bakehouse, a social enterprise aimed at empowering women from disadvantaged backgrounds by equipping them with the necessary life and work skills for a better future</i></div>
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By Aswathy Kumar</div>
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Meet San San (<i>name changed to protect identity</i>), a 39 year old mother to a daughter and a son. San San left school following a road accident when she was in Grade 9 and married when she was 24. Things did not go well for San San. Her husband was unreliable and soon left her when her daughter was just 3. Faced with the sole responsibility of providing for her two little ones San San started selling little products on the streets of Yangon. Raising enough money to feed her children were proving to be difficult, forcing San San to start working as a prostitute. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYgYH82h-oZXJM23je0cIiLtmVPULgSppj0B07mNdJCCWu4qQJ_PwR_pF4LtCqggr-QOiqKtez1XusSpcVm28IVSmOQkH5DM4Zf23SE5n6FDaymi8V0bFNvf10i6q0d-_Mjj1O_YVhi0U/s1600/image1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYgYH82h-oZXJM23je0cIiLtmVPULgSppj0B07mNdJCCWu4qQJ_PwR_pF4LtCqggr-QOiqKtez1XusSpcVm28IVSmOQkH5DM4Zf23SE5n6FDaymi8V0bFNvf10i6q0d-_Mjj1O_YVhi0U/s640/image1.JPG" width="640"></a>For Thadar too, life was far from easy. She had to leave school at a very young age to support her family and started working in a shop for a mere $30 a month. Soon, Thadar’s life took a drastic turn when her only support system, her mother was diagnosed with AIDS. Thadar felt alone and devastated. Meeting even the basic needs of her family was becoming impossible.</div>
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Today you can see San San and Thadar, clad in crisp white aprons adorned over their black tee with the letters Yangon Bakehouse printed across it. They are amongst those women who have been enrolled under the 11-month apprenticeship at The Yangon Bakehouse, a social enterprise that train women in a food & beverage program giving them job skills in cold & hot kitchen, bakery and barista. Today they are not only competent bakers, but are confident, wears their uniform with immense pride and hopes to start their own business one day. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cavelle Dove, Co-founder, Yangon Bakehouse</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“It all started with a small group of 4 women over a cup of tea, talking about the big changes that were taking place in Myanmar," said Cavelle Dove, co-founder Yangon Bakehouse talking about the story behind the initiative. “We all had one common concern. Will women from the most disadvantaged communities benefit from these changes that were happening around them? That’s how the concept of providing a platform to train these women right at the bottom of the pyramid with the necessary life and job skills emerged,” she said.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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The program has a a strict selection process to ensure that only the most disadvantaged benefit from it, that include women with no education, skill set or family support. “Women who come to our program are usually those who barely have any means to support themselves. This may include garbage pickers, prisoners, orphans or even former sex workers.”</div>
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They then undergo a 3 month classroom training where they are taught English, specific to the restaurant business, importance of hygiene, various cooking techniques, proper food storage, recipe reading amongst several others. The women then work 6 months at a training site learning skills in the kitchen and an additional month working at the cafe where they finally get a chance to actually interact with the customers, followed by job placements. “At the Yangon Bakehouse, its just not about mastering the skill of baking a brownie or a banana muffin, it’s about building their confidence and empowering each individual one step at a time, which include helping the women open their own bank accounts to finally writing their own resume and applying for jobs in the hospitality industry, ” said Cavelle.</div>
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Talking about their biggest challenges, Cavelle said, “At times we have had women who haven't even tasted or even seen bread and instances at the cafe where someone had ordered a tuna, cheese and chicken sandwich, only to find a layer of each stuffed between two slices of bread. Even sourcing the necessary ingredients could be a challenge. All our product is locally made and often getting them at the right time may not go as smoothly as expected. So the next time you see me at the supermarket with 300 packets of butter, you can guess that our supply of butter for the day hasn't yet arrived,” she joked. </div>
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<i>And the future…</i></div>
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Things are already looking up for the bakehouse with them opening a new outlet on Inya Road and a new cafe at a corporate office. “For a social enterprise like ours, it is very difficult and uncommon to be sustained by just sale and we have been getting immense support from our donors, volunteers, NGO’s and corporate sponsors. But when we think about the future, we definitely hope that atleast by the end of 2016 we will be supported 100 percent from the sale of our products. That’s our vision, our goal and our future.”</div>
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<i>(photo credit: Google)</i><br>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-13299637586393761572015-09-07T00:36:00.001-07:002015-09-07T00:36:39.934-07:00Latest from Travel & Flavors<div>Please read my article in this month's Travel & Flavors. This time, it's all about Bagan</div><div>http://issuu.com/dcmedia/docs/t_f_september_2015_pdf_for_web?e=4687512/15260632</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTWh9_orrqkNuVqIhgJoKeBC-wmqPhlDhlncmZQl5tXAH7xKR6HeoGQVrPnAHzS3VKpGIeHTLCr1uSwVVb6I7Ls8Sw9qsmCIqrwvOxIr4n0epUYmEszEW6EX0oFP3D8EvihBslN1W1_j_/s640/blogger-image--1488832623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTWh9_orrqkNuVqIhgJoKeBC-wmqPhlDhlncmZQl5tXAH7xKR6HeoGQVrPnAHzS3VKpGIeHTLCr1uSwVVb6I7Ls8Sw9qsmCIqrwvOxIr4n0epUYmEszEW6EX0oFP3D8EvihBslN1W1_j_/s640/blogger-image--1488832623.jpg"></a></div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-35657921520359852052015-08-04T02:37:00.001-07:002015-08-04T02:59:32.704-07:00Treading on Holy grounds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Exploring Bagan, a marvel like no other</i></div>
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By Aswathy Kumar</div>
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Brilliant, Blissful and breathtakingly beautiful…are probably the words that come to my mind as I think about Bagan, an ancient city in the Mandalay region of Myanmar, a mere four hour drive from its capital city of Naypyitaw and eight from its commercial capital, Yangon. Often compared to Angkorwat in Cambodia, Bagan is known for its numerous religious edifices built between the 11th and 13th centuries and ranks amongst the top tourist destinations of Myanmar.</div>
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I have to be honest here and admit that I did have my doubts when it came to choosing Bagan as our next holiday destination. Not that I ever doubted its beauty or sheer splendor. I had heard raving reviews from fellow travelers and seen some spectacular photographs splattered all across social media posted by my expat friends. My only worry was if a temple town like Bagan known for its pagodas and holiness was really my cup of tea. After all I came from Kerala, Land of thousands of Gods and countless places of worship, where it is considered almost impossible to cross any road, street or even an alleyway without sighting a temple, church or a mosque clustered in every nook and corner and therefore rightfully termed God’s own country. </div>
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As we approached Bagan, many aspects did remind me of the home, I bid adieu to a while ago. Gorgeous plush fields aligning the sides of dusty roads, bullock carts trundling hay and other produce to sell at the nearby village market and children gleefully jumping into muddy puddles, quite unaware of the threatening clouds that had started to form in the sky; were all reminiscences of my home back in Kerala. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the beautiful Irrawaddy River</td></tr>
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That being the case, will Bagan offer enough to satiate the tourist in me or will it stand to disappoint? I wondered.</div>
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I was proven wrong almost instantly as we entered the premises of this World Heritage Site and I was certain that this holiday was going to be quite extraordinary. Visions of hundreds and hundreds of pagodas began to unfold in front of us, some glittering golden in the heat of the scorching afternoon sun and others displaying a reddish hue, quite characteristic of the baked bricks and sandstone used in the construction of many of these ancient temples. </div>
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A total of 2300 well-preserved temples stand tall today in an area stretching over 40 square miles, having survived earthquakes, fire and the Mongol invasions. Once there had been 10,000, each temple built as a sign of devotion, faith, offering or simply as a symbol of economic and political standing. </div>
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After having absorbed the beauty of the river Irrawaddy that flowed lazily in front of us, it was time to explore the sacred pagodas and temples. We immediately knew that it would take us days if we ever wanted to cover a reasonable number of these awe-inspiring structures and months to truly imbibe each of its historical and religious significance. So like most of the other tourists we decided to make the best use of our short stay here and stick to the top major attractions of Bagan</div>
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<b style="font-family: Baskerville;">Ananda Temple</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ananda Temple</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">One can easily though expensively (costing $300 per person) catch the inexplicable beauty of Bagan on top of a balloon ride but no visit to this holy city is considered complete without paying your respects to this particular temple. Regarded the most important and amongst the most highly revered temples, a trip to Bagan without having visited its holy grounds is regarded incomplete and to an extend even inauspicious.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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So it was no surprise that the Ananda temple resplendent in white and gold was our first obvious choice. We entered through the west entrance, quite crowded by pilgrims and vendors displaying a multitude of souvenirs, books on Bagan history and beautiful lacquer. But the setting within the temple was quite the opposite compared to the hustle and bustle that we just witnessed outside. A 31 feet tall image of Buddha awaited our arrival at the other end. Made in pure teak wood and adorned in glistening gold leaf, there were a total of four similar images each facing a particular direction, namely north, south, east and west. </div>
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The image that welcomed us at the west end had its hands stretched out in the form of abaya mudra, depicting a sign of fearlessness. The mudra in the north and south were the same, symbolizing Buddha’s first sermon while the one in the east was shown holding a herb, symbolizing dharma as the ultimate cure for misery and distress. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Baskerville;"><b>Dhammayangyi Temple</b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dhammayangyi Temple</td></tr>
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From the most prominent to the largest temple in Bagan, the Dhammayangyi Temple was our next stop. We were immediately welcomed by the sights of local artists skillfully replicating the splendor of Bagan in shabby canvases and friendly hawkers trying to make a sale by showing off their impressive yet limited knowledge of the English language. </div>
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The temple was built by King Narathu, when he came into power after killing his own father. The temple was a way to atone for his sins but call it Karma or simply fate, King Narathu was assassinated before it could have been completed. I wasn’t sure if it was the stories of murder and deceit, our guide eagerly elaborated or simply the dark claustrophobic passages within, I could definitely feel a sense of eeriness that had started to creep in.<br />
'Definitely need some fresh air,’ I joked to my husband. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shwesandaw Pagoda, a crazy climb but worth every step</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Baskerville;"><b>Shwesandaw Pagoda</b></span></div>
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And fresh air we got in plenty at our next stop and my personal favorite, Shwesandaw Pagoda. Probably Bagan is no place for adrenaline junkies but if you are still looking for some kind of a thrill amongst the sanctity and the calmness, Shwesandaw Paya is definitely the place for you. The Pagoda that has a total of five terraces and a set of rather steep 52 steps, leading to the top is considered to be one of the tallest pagodas and definitely the best place to catch a mind-blowing view of the sunset, when the entire scene turns color to a classic sepia tone. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Baskerville;"><b>Shwezigon Pagoda</b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shwezigon Pagoda</td></tr>
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The sun had set when we reached our last stop for the evening, the Shwezigon Pagoda, a gold-covered pagoda that continued to glisten quite untouched by the darkness that surrounded its shrine. Believed to preserve the bone and tooth of Buddha, this pagoda definitely reminded me a lot of the Shwedagon Pagoda back in Yangon. </div>
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A total of six temples, a horse cart ride to devour the external beauty of the other lesser known pagodas and a crazy climb at the Shwesandaw Paya, I now sat at a local restaurant devouring a plate of freshly made hot chapatis and vegetable curry recollecting all the grandeur that I had just witnessed.<br />
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Yes Bagan was a temple town just like I expected, Yes there was a religious structure in every nook and corner just like I expected and yes a lot of it did remind of my home back in Kerala, including the spicy curry that now warmed my throat. But what I didn’t expect was this feeling I felt within me, the sheer sadness that I would soon have to bid farewell to the truly mystique structures that stood in front of me. I knew there was so much more and felt I was probably denied my fair share of this magnificent city. </div>
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“I want to come back, I told my husband as we slowly made our way back to the hotel. “Please bring me back,” I whispered as I turned to take one last look at the stupas that slowly started to fade in the background. </div>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-90353462832565325892015-05-22T05:42:00.000-07:002015-05-22T05:46:54.994-07:00GRAND ROYAL LAUNCHES IT'S NEWEST MEMBER, THE GRAND ROYAL DOUBLE GOLD
WHISKY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>By Aswathy Kumar</b></div>
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<b>All that glitters…</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(96, 96, 96); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 9px;"><span style="color: #606060; font-family: Helvetica Neue; font-weight: bold;">Models introduce the Grand Royal Double Gold, the latest addition to Myanmar’s No 1 Whisky brand, The Grand Royal</span><br><div style="color: #606060; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">
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<b>Bedecked in Gold: Double Gold Grand Royal Whisky</b></div>
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“This is indeed our most premium and high-end blend yet,” said Mr William Arthur, IBTC’s very own Scottish master blender. “It is a full bodied, well balanced whisky which offers, a perfect combination of vanilla, oakwood along with a rich presence of floral notes,” he said. “Smooth and luxurious, in short, perfect for the sophisticated Myanmar consumers of today,” highlighted U Tint OO, Executive Director, IBTC.</div>
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According to Mr Bryan Lee, Group Head of Marketing, “The House of Grand Royal has always striven to be in the forefront when it comes to product innovation and it has always been our aim to bring the best products in the market.” </div>
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Introducing the elaborate gold bottle, the Product Manager for the brand, James Koh Jon Han said, “You don't have to go international to get a taste of luxury and elegance. Our aim is to provide our customers with a local luxury brand, right at home.”</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAm3lZb8eHaKnlPbLKOP1F51dTbTmKYj_SPCqMt9dgMNEWffnM68nRNGZN1Czk-bZKw4CB2owJsI5L-4544WCa6HliGeRfmVvGbBwnLypdrK1-i8NvLFZpUJ5_5DmNVaL6QYmLme1vR1hN/s1600/DSC_0953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAm3lZb8eHaKnlPbLKOP1F51dTbTmKYj_SPCqMt9dgMNEWffnM68nRNGZN1Czk-bZKw4CB2owJsI5L-4544WCa6HliGeRfmVvGbBwnLypdrK1-i8NvLFZpUJ5_5DmNVaL6QYmLme1vR1hN/s320/DSC_0953.JPG" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mei & Jo from CCFOODTRAVEL.COM</td></tr>
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Amidst the glitz, glamor and foot tapping beats of the 80’s and 90’s played by a live band, the over hundred guests who were present at the grand event were lucky enough to get a true taste of this ultimate luxury in the form of three different cocktails flavored with the Grand Royal Double Gold Whisky. First, a sweet concoction of apple and cranberries, second, my personal favorite, a minty mix and the grand finale, a hedonistic mix of the whisky and watermelon. </div>
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“I have never really been a whisky drinker. But looks like things might definitely change after tonight,” quipped Monika from Hungary whose personal favorite was the fruity cocktail flavored with the crispiness of apples and the tanginess of fresh cranberries. “This so good and absolutely smooth,” added a visibly excited Mei of Malaysia’s top food and travel blog <a href="http://ccfoodtravel.com/"><span style="color: black; font-size: 10px;">CCFOODTRAVEL.com</span></a>, who also graced the event. </div>
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The guests, all clad in their formal best, were <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">further delighted with a wonderful five course meal specially customized for the evening. “We have incorporated the Double Gold whisky in each of the dishes, you will be trying today,” said Reuben Gould, Group Executive Chef, Union Bar. </span></div>
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<b>“Cooking with whisky has its challenges. But the results have been fantastic.”</b></div>
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<b><i>- REUBEN GOULD, GROUP EXECUTIVE CHEF, UNION BAR</i></b></div>
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“It wasn’t an easy task cooking with Whisky, biggest challenge being to ensure that it doesn't overpower the whole dish. There were a couple of trial and errors, but the results have been fantastic.”</div>
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And fantastic they definitely were. Be it the foie gras with double gold whisky jelly, the shell fish and leek terrine with a double gold truffle cocktail dressing, mantis shrimp double gold whisky bisque, marinated pork saltimbocca with peppercorn double gold whisky sauce and dessert, the double gold flamed banana taste tartan with vanilla ice cream; the taste of luxury was definitely obvious in every bite. </div>
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Gold was definitely the new black for the evening as the brand ambassadors, sashayed onto the stage clad in the </div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">LGD’s (little gold dresses) designed specially for the event by Myanmar’s top designer May Myat Warso. From fashion haute couture to popular beats, great food to iconic drinks, and all the glitterati, the guests at the event were also treated to a complete gold-rush, with each getting a special keep-sake gold-embellished glasses from the Grand Royal to take home. </span><br>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Like I said, all that glitters was definitely gold!</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Little Gold Dresses designed specially for the event by Myanmar's top designer May Myat Warso</td></tr>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-51608864800473143322015-02-17T02:03:00.001-08:002015-02-17T19:14:19.927-08:00Strings of hope<div><br></div><div>By Aswathy Kumar</div><div><br></div>I walked into the lavish lobby of the country club not expecting much. I hadn't seen the newsletter and my friends had just dragged me out of the comfort of my house saying that we had to go for a coffee morning being organized at the club. These coffee morning were not unusual. Having attended a few in the past, I knew that there were going to be some great coffee, delicious munchies and some interesting girly chats and mommy talks with friends and neighbors living in the estate. <div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">As I walked in, I could see that this coffee morning too had similar elements. There was coffee, three tiered desert trays serving delicious banana cakes and croissants and friendly faces. The only new add on was a long buffet table placed on the left, draped in white and gold skirting displaying rows and rows of beautifully designed and professionally packaged jewelry.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">'Oh a jewelry exhibition. How wonderful!' I thought as I moved closer to explore further. Intrinsically designed fresh water pearl and garnet necklaces, delicate drop earrings in silver, onyx and glass, contemporary beaded and leather bracelets all adorned the huge table. I could have sworn that these designs were probably better than what I had seen through the windows of any Anthropologie showroom in the US, or the pricey silver shops in Khan Market, back home in Delhi. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">It was only when I was handed over the brochure and saw the banner stretched out behind the table, I understood the depth of my ignorance. These high quality, creative and exceptional jewelry were made by women from Eden Ministries, a non profit organization restoring freedom and providing hope and future to captives of Asia's red light areas. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOBl7oO5pUGe7FZ6JkQzDrrlMMWLOizpX9JzfT3XC3LxODbHQRLgD63cveif-N3Lk4oHE2DYbB_sleYxo586-c6tJZpJcAlaZoBN9ONaVgH7vpbaOa5c_dhrgeJ0Os8vF3HmSjMjO9Lcp/s640/blogger-image-490982201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOBl7oO5pUGe7FZ6JkQzDrrlMMWLOizpX9JzfT3XC3LxODbHQRLgD63cveif-N3Lk4oHE2DYbB_sleYxo586-c6tJZpJcAlaZoBN9ONaVgH7vpbaOa5c_dhrgeJ0Os8vF3HmSjMjO9Lcp/s640/blogger-image-490982201.jpg"></a></div> <i> Lisa Samuelsen, Founder & CEO' Eden Ministry</i></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">'It all started when my husband moved to Beijing. I used to wander around, exploring the streets on my own. I would often see these neon lights and massage parlors spread out at several locations and wonder what was really going on inside," said Lisa Samuelsen, founder and CEO of Eden. "I got curious and further exploring revealed some shocking dark secrets about the sex industry. I knew these girls were not there by choice and I had to do something to make a change," she continued.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">On a mission to make a difference, Lisa's next step was to learn more about the entire system as to how the industry works. "I knew I couldn't just go out there and save these girls. I had to do something that would impact the entire community, which included not only the girls but mafia heads, pimps and sex traffickers."</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">Highlighting one of her biggest challenges Lisa says has been to reach out with an open mind. "I had to meet the Mafia heads and pimps, invite them for dinners and have a face to face interaction with them to truly understand the business of it all. The hardest thing to do was to not judge them or what they did. They are entrepreneurs and they supply to meet the Markets demands. It was important to understand, build friendships and also empower them and thereby rescue the innumerable number of women forced into the sex trade."</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">Today the Eden Ministry works in over 35 countries empowering girls and brothel owners with skills that will enable them a better future. And 55 percent of its funding comes from the sale of these exquisite pieces of jewelry that's nothing short of a masterpiece. "We were three friends, sitting around a table and discussing what we can do to truly empower them. That's when the idea of teaching the girls jewelry designing came forth." Professional designers from US and Scandinavia were brought in to train these girls. " It had to look professional because these girls don't need your sympathy. The products had to be spectacular and people should buy them because they want to buy them and not out of pity." </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTK6UDWH59uHUwZojGAKou7gTwGpNXHYIOh-sE7gGlxP_JVfdo4fsNfmh9dtG4hAzCYqbeKE7Ef-OGV3IoKPXUgC-6d3CVy1VEwtyRMEvI38SEpE2g2hBIsP8LsGRc_2WO8xRR0-3ez2Cw/s640/blogger-image-184836790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTK6UDWH59uHUwZojGAKou7gTwGpNXHYIOh-sE7gGlxP_JVfdo4fsNfmh9dtG4hAzCYqbeKE7Ef-OGV3IoKPXUgC-6d3CVy1VEwtyRMEvI38SEpE2g2hBIsP8LsGRc_2WO8xRR0-3ez2Cw/s640/blogger-image-184836790.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoB2HY9aqiUwYrcOmUDTb0VGXcSXhUcnsOy67G9NarDMNvV6Hwe011xLJNSY0WdfNFbgx943_qKdSSQrNGw2alG0JmzcMb1ma5Wvike3naR5udinb-vKGIhLEJGwm4AB-A_hoNLUdgE7Cp/s640/blogger-image--188238586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoB2HY9aqiUwYrcOmUDTb0VGXcSXhUcnsOy67G9NarDMNvV6Hwe011xLJNSY0WdfNFbgx943_qKdSSQrNGw2alG0JmzcMb1ma5Wvike3naR5udinb-vKGIhLEJGwm4AB-A_hoNLUdgE7Cp/s640/blogger-image--188238586.jpg"></a></div> <i>Some exquisite pieces of jewelry made by the girls at Eden Ministry</i></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">Statistics show that increasing a girls self esteem can reduce the chances of her being forced into the sex industry by 80%. "The girls had to believe that what they were doing was truly spectacular and thereby believe in themselves," adds Lisa.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">In Yangon, the Non-profit runs a shelter home and workshop at Laden and in their short time here have already succeeded in rescuing almost seven girls. "In Yangon, our biggest success story is of Kai Kai," says Lisa with a glimmer of pride spreading across her face as she talks about the thirteen year old rescued from a sex trafficker in the city. " She was completely broken when we first saw her. But today she is happy and living her childhood with a wonderful family who adopted her."</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrG2fk38l-GUXGuIhcMV6eeQ24TkRG_Re3QWg519-LJM9BN5W26pXQPEv4gjEJEscmjibdWu09ym4R-l3-CVsbF0RrthU971LlJQVgfeA8oqL-fyGzGSkbOkeqagbOqGyAa-LcU04C4Xm/s640/blogger-image-347513415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrG2fk38l-GUXGuIhcMV6eeQ24TkRG_Re3QWg519-LJM9BN5W26pXQPEv4gjEJEscmjibdWu09ym4R-l3-CVsbF0RrthU971LlJQVgfeA8oqL-fyGzGSkbOkeqagbOqGyAa-LcU04C4Xm/s640/blogger-image-347513415.jpg"></a></div> Eden ministry, restoring freedom to the captives of Asia's red light districts</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><b>What is Eden</b>? </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">Eden is a non-profit aimed at rescuing and empowering women forced into the sex trade thereby giving them a bright and hopeful future</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><b>How does Eden work?</b></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">They never pay to get these girls as they believe it would only make them simply a part of the whole system. Instead they impact the entire trafficking community which include empowering even the pimps and mafia heads with skills.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><b>Where does the funding come from?</b></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">55% comes from the sale of jewelry made by the girls. Remaining 45% comes from NGO's and other organizations. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><b>How can you help?</b></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">Spread the word by liking them on Facebook @eden_minstry or organizing workshops at your house parties thereby encouraging your friends and family to buy the jewelry. You can also volunteer at the workshops and shelter homes. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-72545956174180366392015-02-03T22:09:00.001-08:002015-02-09T05:23:51.587-08:00One day to spare<br><blockquote type="cite"><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><i class="" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">From tasting the rich vietnamese coffee and its exquisite cuisine to experiencing Hanoi’s heritage and french colonial architecture. From shop-hopping in the numerous street bazaars to taking a leisurely stroll around the scenic Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi has a lot to offer, even if you have just one day to spare…</i></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i class=""></i><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">By Aswathy Kumar</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In a matter of few months after settling in, I realized that one of the key tricks to survive a city like Yangon, Myanmar was to make as many trips to its interesting neighbors as possible, be it getting lost in the claustrophobic streets of Hong Kong, shop-hopping in the innumerable malls of Bangkok or enjoying the vibrant night life of Singapore. It didn't matter if the trip was just for a day, when you are living in a city void of shopping malls, cineplexes or just plain traffic rules, causing you to spend hours in your car to reach a cafe, any opportunity that comes your way to get away from the madness and the chaos, you simply got to grab. Even if its just in the hope of staying in a lavish five star or sipping hazelnut latte at the nearby Starbucks. It is not that I did not love Yangon anymore. I did. But she had now become my home and all the shimmery, shiny Pagodas that awed me a few months ago and the <i class="">thanaka </i>smeared faces of the locals that brought me immense joy, had all become somewhat of the mundane. I had gone from being a tourist to a local and I was desperate for a change.</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i class="">‘I must warn you. You’ll just have a day in Hanoi and you’ll be on your own,’</i> my husband warned me as he agreed to let me tag on one of his official trips, I didn't care. I was ecstatic and it didn't matter that I just had one day to spare.</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now normally, I hate planning out my trips in advance and prefer the city to unfold in itself as I tread its streets, but this time, I knew was going to be a little different and a certain amount of planning would be essential if I wanted to make the best use of my one day here. So I kept my notepad and pen ready as I exited the Hanoi airport. My stay here was going to be brief and their was no part of her, I wanted to miss. </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b class="">ZOOM ON!</b></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5YpC2MybLOXTACUhWUab46bM_bRN-E567EBqTviitU8CIAquaTnHjXuFaod22mzpw1io-ib9sRNl-qy3tiD_14FPXu40NRjIpJmcQ23u_EmpMQG4wAkmOGnMlLrKx3V10TyYdA1CbTtHl/s640/blogger-image-150587263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5YpC2MybLOXTACUhWUab46bM_bRN-E567EBqTviitU8CIAquaTnHjXuFaod22mzpw1io-ib9sRNl-qy3tiD_14FPXu40NRjIpJmcQ23u_EmpMQG4wAkmOGnMlLrKx3V10TyYdA1CbTtHl/s640/blogger-image-150587263.jpg"></a></div> <i> (Pic courtesy: Google</i>)</div><br><p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It was a rather short drive to our hotel, The Sofitel Metropole, situated in the old quarter of Hanoi and close to the famous and scenic Hoan Kiem Lake. But the drive was definitely far more adventurous than I had expected it to be, thanks to the hundreds of scooters and bicycles swarming towards our car from all sides. ‘Crossing these streets where going to be impossible especially with my 7 year old,’ I thought nervously chewing onto the ends of my pen. ‘Don’t worry Madam,’ smiled our driver as he swerved the car amidst the spool of two wheelers. ‘They know how to avoid you.’</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And boy was I glad that he was right! Though they seemed intimidating at first, I soon realized that just the sheer concentration of vehicles on the road makes it almost impossible for any of them to gain a high speed, giving us enough time to make our way across the road, safely. And like my driver said, they were well used to the numerous pedestrians and had developed a strategy to coexist, swerving right around them. ‘We’ll be fine,’ I assured my daughter as we crossed the road to reach our very first stop of the day, an old non glamorous coffee shop in Nguyen Huu Huan Street to savor the famous Vietnamese coffee.</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b class="">A COFFEE LOVER’S DREAM</b></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b class=""><br></b></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class=""><span class=""></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="text-decoration: underline; font-weight: bold; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_8AEI-232l7qkqC3Y5n4LpBVr6096ozj-BbRPnmXDRoS99u2L2bcXQeoubWJ4p7k6vIRq64S7nWcLcxavKlFKWZXshjepxULysFOfBhQ5OjdzBtKKMplSymM-QejxWJbIi8jwbbmo1He/s640/blogger-image-966294321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_8AEI-232l7qkqC3Y5n4LpBVr6096ozj-BbRPnmXDRoS99u2L2bcXQeoubWJ4p7k6vIRq64S7nWcLcxavKlFKWZXshjepxULysFOfBhQ5OjdzBtKKMplSymM-QejxWJbIi8jwbbmo1He/s640/blogger-image-966294321.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: both;"><i> (Photo courtesy : Google)</i></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: both;"><i><br></i></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><br></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There were plenty of international coffee chains and boutique style cafes all around the posh locality surrounding the hotel but I was told, that this particular shop was special and famous for its unique blend of coffee made with egg yolk, cheese, butter and yogurt. As I had just a day, a flight back the very next and a seven year old to look after, I decided not to play too adventurous and stuck to the traditional coffee blended with sweetened condensed milk. Coffee is to the Vietnamese as chai is to us Indians and no trip to the country is complete without savoring the intrinsically brewed coffee. And as soon as I took my first sip of the strong concoction diluted by the sweetness of the rich creamy condensed milk, I felt no guilt that I had passed off on my favorite brand of international coffee that I had been craving for so long.</span></div><p></p></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b class="">TEMPLE OF LITERATURE</b></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our next stop was the Temple of literature, a temple dedicated to the great Chinese philosopher and scholar, Confucius. A mere ten minute drive from our current location at Hoan Kiem Lake, this historical site also houses the Imperial Academy, Vietnam’s first ever university. Though there was quite a fair number of tourists, visiting that day, we could almost immediately sense the sanctity of the place as we exited the taxi and slowly made way through, ‘The Great Portico,’ or the first entrance into the temple. </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="text-align: justify; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="text-align: justify; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirCkTczI7U6tm20EaHyZ2uYvBjNoZpgDn3kvzlr1gGx_9lk9C7W58FY1AjO2bOBa3f3QsQ_PX9ceWlFv1qwpGJLTIIi_NJhSeSoXZxe9X_o21QHDyTwVdmkin4kwzh1QwqXkRIXOW1O8gA/s640/blogger-image--695102448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirCkTczI7U6tm20EaHyZ2uYvBjNoZpgDn3kvzlr1gGx_9lk9C7W58FY1AjO2bOBa3f3QsQ_PX9ceWlFv1qwpGJLTIIi_NJhSeSoXZxe9X_o21QHDyTwVdmkin4kwzh1QwqXkRIXOW1O8gA/s640/blogger-image--695102448.jpg"></a></div><i> (The Grand Portico at The Temple of Literature</i>)<p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="text-align: justify; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="text-align: justify; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Despite the sanctity of the place, touring around was neither intimidating nor overwhelming. It felt extremely calming as I walked hand in hand with my daughter amidst the picturesque gardens bordering the different courtyards (There are a total of five courtyards, one leading to the other), quite a relief from the chaos and congestion of motorcyclists aligning outside. There were three paths leading to the main temple and we were told that the middle path was reserved for the king, while the other two were for the officials. ‘Middle path it is,’ I joked to my little one as I pulled her delicate frame to further explore what lay ahead. </span></p></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QabI6Ic9w7v8hujJyqxK1mwoweCMwlDJxA39gNy3uBvYBG2SwED-997u4Cty8UUw99ct13-5FTGFuKcDDsEVO1VTQMNnBu_Di9cGZHXHTrq_8ohIN5tXBNlU5jbMdmbmw9Pfjv5sZtXe/s640/blogger-image-1626449372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QabI6Ic9w7v8hujJyqxK1mwoweCMwlDJxA39gNy3uBvYBG2SwED-997u4Cty8UUw99ct13-5FTGFuKcDDsEVO1VTQMNnBu_Di9cGZHXHTrq_8ohIN5tXBNlU5jbMdmbmw9Pfjv5sZtXe/s640/blogger-image-1626449372.jpg"></a></div> <i> (Back in the day, this middle path was reserved for the king</i>)<p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The third courtyard was our personal favorite, thanks to a walled pond, named the Well of Heavenly Clarity situated right in the centre of the Temple. Surrounding the well are stone plaques with names of all those who cleared the exams and received their doctorates at the University. The plaques have been mounted on tortoises also carved in stone. After paying a quick homage at the lacquered statue of Confucius, housed at the end of the courtyard and a few quick photo sessions, it was time for our little gang of two to delve into the chaotic streets of Hanoi yet again. We still had a lot to do and not much time to waste. </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b class="">IN A WORLD OF PUPPETS</b></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My research had suggested one more monument, the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, one of the largest memorial in Hanoi. But time was scarce and after all the walking around, I was doubtful if my seven year old could handle yet another historical site. I also knew I wasn't leaving without exploring the innumerable shops surrounding the Hoan Kiem lake and if she was ever going to let me do that, I had to throw in a little kiddy bribe. ‘How about a little puppet show my doll?’ </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtU4FTrOtV6kMXqUtaz2N76eynveqnwEe5z6ESHBqgsZiKs8Ao973qpbCylegXL9TrEfos2OQn9jEDSyTxm4zbLibPE0XupcYHIS6I3k_s05_pIhEcdNJfj9JbKxXUh-yFY1T_lenN2Bz/s640/blogger-image-1459105991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtU4FTrOtV6kMXqUtaz2N76eynveqnwEe5z6ESHBqgsZiKs8Ao973qpbCylegXL9TrEfos2OQn9jEDSyTxm4zbLibPE0XupcYHIS6I3k_s05_pIhEcdNJfj9JbKxXUh-yFY1T_lenN2Bz/s640/blogger-image-1459105991.jpg"></a></div><i> (Water Puppers at the Thang Long Theatre)</i><p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><br></i></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have always been extremely critical when it comes to puppetry and coming from a a country like India, where I have grown up watching some exquisite shows, like the shadow puppetry <i class="">(Tholpavakoothu) </i>of Kerala or the string puppetry <i class="">(Kathputli)</i> of Rajasthan, it would have had to be spectacular for me to take notice. And spectacular it definitely was!</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Beautiful and colorful hand carved wooden lacquered puppets (including fire blowing dragons, flip flopping fish and turtles) are shown farming, fighting, dancing or simply rejoicing in the festivities in a pool of water, all while being dragged around with the help of bamboo rods or strings by puppeteers from behind a screen. The performance divided as little skits show life in rural Vietnam and is explained with the help of a live orchestra through songs and dialogues. The language was traditional Vietnamese, but the sheer acts by the puppets were enough for us to understand it’s comical nature and interpret the folktales that formed the very essence of the play. </span></p></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><b class="" style="text-decoration: underline; text-align: justify; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">IN & AROUND HOAN KIEM LAKE</b></p></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq61ACkeUqG4wwe-b23qNWx3pNSuZdMcbPADeuv0qVCpLbytxcro_Y3wtAj4091Qz45oLq2XN59rjZ5ES1zc0ZWk3ZrC6zTtGpKL-Q15R9Pr5lDTyjkJLbBRfZZKhrgmZxbzowaglM2zC0/s640/blogger-image-993627567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq61ACkeUqG4wwe-b23qNWx3pNSuZdMcbPADeuv0qVCpLbytxcro_Y3wtAj4091Qz45oLq2XN59rjZ5ES1zc0ZWk3ZrC6zTtGpKL-Q15R9Pr5lDTyjkJLbBRfZZKhrgmZxbzowaglM2zC0/s640/blogger-image-993627567.jpg"></a></div> <i>(Turtle tower, Hoan Kiem Lake</i>)<p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The next part was obviously my personal favorite and the whole reason for me tagging along with my husband to any destination in the first place, shopping! Markets were a plenty in Hanoi, but there wasn’t much time left to wrap up and so I decided to simply walk across from the Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre to further explore the innumerable shops. Traditional Vietnamese Lacquer, wooden, hand-painted handicrafts, silk scarfs, tablecloths, interesting fake goods, souvenirs, bags, shoes, jewelry, paintings by local artists and what not. You think of it and you were sure to find it here. </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I would have hardly been to four shops, a lacquerware one, a silk shop, a souvenir shop and an art gallery and my hands were already full. I could feel the weight of the shopping bags beginning to take a toll on my shoulders and my daughter was slowly starting to lose her patience. And it’s at that point, a friendly rickshaw or cyclo as the Vietnamese call it, offered to take us around the lake.</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Although we could just about catch glimpses of the famous turtle tower and the Huc Bridge, the ride was enough to truly absorb the beauty of the lake and the sheer vibrancy and character of Hanoi.</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b class="">CHA CA LA VONG</b></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="" style="text-decoration: underline;"><b class=""></b></span><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> <i> </i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfUVo29LDILNL8PH06PgzPIc2M5DZB-A8IfD1ISuCHz-GCKrgCAHEKjzWLEdE8zUSNNTVSUiimIVGrKbRxhawfaM0CxzLZsiB9n4GAIhaCG-v9wjRAg9CmZuHAyfGEo2uquMfGLHlvO-_/s640/blogger-image--442922864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfUVo29LDILNL8PH06PgzPIc2M5DZB-A8IfD1ISuCHz-GCKrgCAHEKjzWLEdE8zUSNNTVSUiimIVGrKbRxhawfaM0CxzLZsiB9n4GAIhaCG-v9wjRAg9CmZuHAyfGEo2uquMfGLHlvO-_/s640/blogger-image--442922864.jpg"></a></i></div><p></p></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My jeans were all dusty and hair messed up. The shimmery bronzer and foundation that I had generously smeared on my face was long gone. We were exhausted and I felt so glad as I walked into this tiny restaurant that we had not chosen anything fancy for our last and most important pit stop, our dinner!</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The place was crowded and I couldn't help but wonder if the small wooden shop would be able to take all the weight. There was no menu and no questions. People went there for one dish and as soon as we sat down it was served to us in great élan. It was obvious the Cha Ca Thang Long, was definitely going to be a dish the Vietnamese was proud about. </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipl9CXqmE9J2Afipj8d7EW4sRyb4Rlsm-u4yt2GRv34l0ZCJ0RRn39okB6vOnnmZPo0TyMuSRfc0DuFqKjO7cAX6qAveJ_6FaQTTeDmwqK4p7UlKN-GaZEz7DsFUiU1xuaZGWxl-D2VyPV/s640/blogger-image--199263513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipl9CXqmE9J2Afipj8d7EW4sRyb4Rlsm-u4yt2GRv34l0ZCJ0RRn39okB6vOnnmZPo0TyMuSRfc0DuFqKjO7cAX6qAveJ_6FaQTTeDmwqK4p7UlKN-GaZEz7DsFUiU1xuaZGWxl-D2VyPV/s640/blogger-image--199263513.jpg"></a></div> <i> (Photo courtesy: Google)</i><p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhpwkXocbFUi03DMXBGRHiQY_7ueQeoFak06VJnQevcafl3h02Na-eCo1zF44c-DBUiHI23V5MIVQFmR53R-BfFLUiHx8ABoJKAvn-dTIND-h9T_YRBaMO-hZuzHGX3Waa6VmQ-YDd9TA/s640/blogger-image-1740452859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhpwkXocbFUi03DMXBGRHiQY_7ueQeoFak06VJnQevcafl3h02Na-eCo1zF44c-DBUiHI23V5MIVQFmR53R-BfFLUiHx8ABoJKAvn-dTIND-h9T_YRBaMO-hZuzHGX3Waa6VmQ-YDd9TA/s640/blogger-image-1740452859.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">First came a steaming frying pan mounted on a flaming stove with tiny pieces of fish marinated in turmeric, ginger, garlic and fish sauce. This was followed by a big bowl of freshly boiled vermicelli noodles, dill and smaller bowls of fish oil and nuts. I was asked to add the Dill into the hot oil while the fish cooked which was later mixed into the bowl of noodles along with extra fish oil and garnished with peanuts. </span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); min-height: 17px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br class=""></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Considered to be one amongst the top 1000 things to eat before you die, it was definitely not the best restaurant I had ever been. It was hot, crowded and noisy, but the infusion of flavors that burst inside my mouth, definitely made it one of the best meals I had ever eaten and also the most memorable part of my day in Hanoi.</span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="" style="text-align: start; margin: 0px 0px 4px; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <i> </i></div><br><p></p></blockquote><div><p class="" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; text-align: justify; font-size: 15px; font-family: Baskerville; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br></p></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-40825959357104220612014-12-31T03:08:00.000-08:002014-12-31T03:13:30.701-08:00Reminiscing 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The countdown for 2015 has officially begun. And i am here, at the same place where I was at the very beginning, when the year had just started, at Ngwe Saung, a popular beach destination just 150 miles from Yangon. But today as I stare at the majestic ocean stretched out in front of me in all its glory, I sense a strange feeling of sadness welling up within me. And I can't help but think of all the lost lives, lying somewhere hidden beneath its cool waters. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">How can the very same place that gave me so much joy, so many memories, appear menacingly eerie as though mocking at my sheer helplessness? </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;">I sit here soaking my feet in its </span><span style="font-size: 11px;">crystal blue waters,</span><span style="font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px;"> feeling insignificant and irrelevant amidst its vastness. There shall be no resolutions this year, I say; no fireworks and no complaints. Just a quick thank you for the year that went by and a prayer for what awaits us on the other side.</span></span></div>
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Happy New Year everybody</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling lost in its sheer vastness</td></tr>
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ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-61489042734583139162014-12-30T20:50:00.001-08:002014-12-30T21:25:04.726-08:00Playing with fire<div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">By Aswathy Kumar</span></div><div><br></div><div>Visiting the untouched beaches of Ngwe Saung, a mere four hour drive from Yangon? Make sure to check out this incredible fire show at Ume Cafe. Situated between Yamonar OO and silver view, on the southern part of Ngwe Saung beach, this quaint thatched shack style bar/cafe is rated #4 among the top 10 eating joints in Ngwe Saung. Popular for its Asian fusion menu and the incredible fire dance show, this one is a definite must-stop while visiting Ngwe Saung.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5k4unFX9NSIkVA3sm_pJN9AiJXWgXjIzK7QGOOHXio6jk6aMJ-RbyGFM_hAbT0HqrBfP8O2Raz7qAPDKGkt-1mZ8P1YX1LppKwdX2VV-kKS-56xCLGntflLEdcpy39TNJQUM7YKzht1CF/s640/blogger-image-1598513463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5k4unFX9NSIkVA3sm_pJN9AiJXWgXjIzK7QGOOHXio6jk6aMJ-RbyGFM_hAbT0HqrBfP8O2Raz7qAPDKGkt-1mZ8P1YX1LppKwdX2VV-kKS-56xCLGntflLEdcpy39TNJQUM7YKzht1CF/s640/blogger-image-1598513463.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRt987sJUemPiPaRNo4e2so9iI9nSERFF4yN9mDnEFPUdCxLvAcgmIMAsHSAQjgTr0yq91s37m2sHeMmCEmPMMUq6sLxLy4v8AfL_UDXTzWR5LRPQEl-Boxxh5qrb3PE2P5D2CsvyhxwM/s640/blogger-image-942982173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRt987sJUemPiPaRNo4e2so9iI9nSERFF4yN9mDnEFPUdCxLvAcgmIMAsHSAQjgTr0yq91s37m2sHeMmCEmPMMUq6sLxLy4v8AfL_UDXTzWR5LRPQEl-Boxxh5qrb3PE2P5D2CsvyhxwM/s640/blogger-image-942982173.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div> </div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-53758462188296935162014-12-24T02:22:00.001-08:002014-12-24T02:22:25.712-08:00Travel and Flavors<a href="http://www.travelandflavors.com/detail_news.php?id=474#.VJqTts_1LwA.blogger">Travel and Flavors</a>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-33412230442653838852014-12-23T05:31:00.001-08:002014-12-23T05:31:54.176-08:00My blogs featured in Travel & Flavors Magazine<div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIUA_0tjGMuklYt4kFuov-F56WktDRhGzT74of_0C_ZTGQO1QiR7HWOshpjZutEaKJ7gp2-cmtU-ZdoVLMONsB0jo8D0O6dQV6x64Mt0391pltED7lcJZ9Mav5VszZwO1NFrOHCoQJbQM/s640/blogger-image--2145648776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIUA_0tjGMuklYt4kFuov-F56WktDRhGzT74of_0C_ZTGQO1QiR7HWOshpjZutEaKJ7gp2-cmtU-ZdoVLMONsB0jo8D0O6dQV6x64Mt0391pltED7lcJZ9Mav5VszZwO1NFrOHCoQJbQM/s640/blogger-image--2145648776.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiceClhE1HjHeWuVpTjztk0O8-MSxrPcGuYXeojvEzDB4RpK_NldC9gI6XQ2j_tUf2bu1u-AdJxnc7JSoke9YDapdKZdBoBcVzEn09n4HPCRnhsVHfQwZRjtpbyfma2soxCRl-dzwaagqn0/s640/blogger-image--2002853032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiceClhE1HjHeWuVpTjztk0O8-MSxrPcGuYXeojvEzDB4RpK_NldC9gI6XQ2j_tUf2bu1u-AdJxnc7JSoke9YDapdKZdBoBcVzEn09n4HPCRnhsVHfQwZRjtpbyfma2soxCRl-dzwaagqn0/s640/blogger-image--2002853032.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBtzEiMASA76fv480fAds3mb7tLyfr3Vre-x2_6RO3zzAjDL41HyJYNpf2GeAGkRvbJd1rPzY26Wdyowt_CkEyjptBNQwxtLq7ql8vaUTIvBmH0Rprki7kO7GAAF8wv67pMhDbpOrbUVB/s640/blogger-image-759600689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaK0MTiOC8Ai5WrdC2xDhyfitKBlIrLCBaUcpdtUuwn1vzPNHnHY-_QETAQvUwkSQVOa6MNzzCnviT5Uh594LV-pV01NPIcWFOVlgC5h7td2fRaiw9iaMUE05CoTBLZO3MdKnhHPSTU3x8/s640/blogger-image-1793132345.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-60313713359995261512014-05-30T08:42:00.001-07:002014-12-29T22:26:01.177-08:00A sneak-peek into heaven!<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Exploring Ngwe Saung, a destination like no other</span></div><div><br></div><div>By Aswathy Kumar</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fHTNgAWlXTGm2TTzs-w3DT-HQkXCj3N-PWubAY370HPc9uYuay_ncj4qiHUgk4PA0VAJt_J_okpRJ1fOdS8DKYPLwetaJp4HOU3iVF6qt85tgwCWmvZosxp2zUXASPjsxrcjSRpTWj4S/s640/blogger-image--1444223315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fHTNgAWlXTGm2TTzs-w3DT-HQkXCj3N-PWubAY370HPc9uYuay_ncj4qiHUgk4PA0VAJt_J_okpRJ1fOdS8DKYPLwetaJp4HOU3iVF6qt85tgwCWmvZosxp2zUXASPjsxrcjSRpTWj4S/s640/blogger-image--1444223315.jpg"></a></div></div><div> <i>Ngwe Saung Beach: Heaven on earth</i>!</div><div><br></div><div>'Sorry love, but we can't go now?' My husband sat beside me, a sense of sheer disappointment splattered all across his face. I lay half asleep and through our white curtains I could see that the sun had slowly started to rise. In a few hours from now we would be on a flight for our annual beach holiday. In a few hours from now we would be sun basking on the warm crystal sands of Pattaya sipping frozen margaritas out of fancy swirly straws. Our suitcases lay packed right next to us and we were ready to go.</div><div><br></div><div>It was only when I awoke the second time, a few minutes later to the sound of my husband calling his office to cancel our flight tickets and hotel reservations did I finally absorb it fully that our trip to Thailand had actually been cancelled due to the recent military coup. There wasn't going to be the holiday that I had so longed for. I felt sad, let down but most of all I didn't not know what I would tell my 6 year old once she woke up. I was unsure if I had the courage to tell her that she wasn't going to be able to cuddle up with her mommy in a fancy four poster bed of our lavish hotel or splurge at elaborate breakfast buffets or swim in a glitzy infinity pool overlooking the sea. I looked at my husband and immediately knew that we both couldn't do it!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyhBfLUvq2WGjG5LrYyJV7mMP0m4EpwOfnPVctKYIv0u9OiHnRi0J8-1PXc0H4ewVyGeJP2N69LxiUn9CSU7DP1Dv9hjhpk6R9VqBZTNYkdJJtOmjW2I_e5oWXMaHXPasNK7fKOB2xIcY/s640/blogger-image-154888375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyhBfLUvq2WGjG5LrYyJV7mMP0m4EpwOfnPVctKYIv0u9OiHnRi0J8-1PXc0H4ewVyGeJP2N69LxiUn9CSU7DP1Dv9hjhpk6R9VqBZTNYkdJJtOmjW2I_e5oWXMaHXPasNK7fKOB2xIcY/s640/blogger-image-154888375.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i> Ngwe Saung</i></div><br></div><div>It was then that we decided to head out to Ngwe Saung, a popular holiday destination in Myanmar. It was just a four hour drive from Yangon and fairly popular among the expats. But most importantly it had a beach and right now, that's all that we really needed.</div><div><br></div><div>I did have my share of fears and doubts as I exited the comfort of my lush green housing estate and into the chaotic, jam-packed and almost non-existent roads of Hlaing Tharyar industrial township. 'What if we get lost? What if our google maps don't work? What if we run out of water? Will there be any rest stops? What if the drive was too risky? I was nervous and who could blame me. I had heard my share of horror stories of people getting lost and taking 8 hours to cover a mere 150 mile distance. </div><div><br></div><div>'We will be fine love,' reassured my husband. 'If we could handle the vast stretches of Masai Mara and the treacherous roads of Sikkim and Raniketh, this was going to be easy!"</div><div><br></div><div>And I was so glad he was right. So there were no highways and all you get were narrow roads stretching all the way to Pathen, the next big city between Yangon and Ngwe Saung and you were bound to have your heart skip a beat every time a truck hurtled at you at full speed or lose your patience every time you got stuck behind a slow-moving cycle rickshaw or unruly motorcyclists. But there was no better way to truly absorb the country in all it's rawness and charm, quite a change from the craziness of Yangon. Be it the lush green fields stretching on either side of the road, the innumerable little tea stalls embellished by their neatly aligned colorful plastic chairs selling chai and fried local savories or the quaint thatched roadside shops on stilts displaying an array of Myanmar snacks, baskets loaded with fried fish and luscious fruits like guava, papaya and mangoes, Myanmar was so famous for. The short 4 hour road trip offered plentiful for our curious eyes to feast upon. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvYexjr4b9OMMCYLhpU5zxKwPV66OlJUwiRw51W6-3AfhUTmM6QLavbG78xDCyizMA6RmDpDBZxPO3nXXXN3-5sWC7i3oJGnYBJxDLcia5o3VQCPh4V0FVb31htTjWiKMKKdaMoUEpCzC/s640/blogger-image--35854908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvYexjr4b9OMMCYLhpU5zxKwPV66OlJUwiRw51W6-3AfhUTmM6QLavbG78xDCyizMA6RmDpDBZxPO3nXXXN3-5sWC7i3oJGnYBJxDLcia5o3VQCPh4V0FVb31htTjWiKMKKdaMoUEpCzC/s640/blogger-image--35854908.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <i>A temple procession enroute to Ngwe Saung</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRSmqhw_bvYSXYVqSVp49mGAzhVhMxJBOCcUCCSAUdQ3fXhOYltGjrGlPZNW13YCxRTO3U0nZbHL9l2Teeku_KY-4OCFC2OO6AR6CAcDLyJZy8pJstfBbmxXManjLE6YJW98Kw6eLkKwv/s640/blogger-image--1842880971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRSmqhw_bvYSXYVqSVp49mGAzhVhMxJBOCcUCCSAUdQ3fXhOYltGjrGlPZNW13YCxRTO3U0nZbHL9l2Teeku_KY-4OCFC2OO6AR6CAcDLyJZy8pJstfBbmxXManjLE6YJW98Kw6eLkKwv/s640/blogger-image--1842880971.jpg"></a></div></div></div><br></div><div>As my little family of three kept making a long mental list of all the things we needed to pick up on our return journey including a hand woven hammock, a cane stool and a basket full of mangoes and guavas, we were amazed to see a procession of women clad in a traditional neon pink Longyi, children in colourful turbans on top of horses and men blowing trumpets aligning the sides of the road. It had slowed down the traffic significantly and definitely added a few extra minutes to our trip. But we did not mind. Such temple processions were not rare on the culturally vibrant and pious villages located on the outskirts of Yangon, but it was our first time and it was well worth the wait. </div><div><br></div><div>We reached our resort at around noon. Though the last 30km to Ngwe Saung was a bit of downer, courtesy the long winding road, we were beyond ecstatic to see the Bay of Bengal stretched out in front of us, in all it's glory. Be it the breathtakingly beautiful coastline, the crystal clear waters that almost seemed to coincide with the Azure sky above us or the gigantic waves that almost seemed to mock at the calmness surrounding it. There was something about this particular beach that made me feel almost certain that I had somehow magically found my way into some kind of scenic artwork during our short drive from home. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntg6klptFehBOSfkKIIFE4CVmY5gNCB0IwaC20tkVX_hD2zV_3EG-z4Uarh0PGj6sTZ6VVmYewHfl76ODUOXHTLp9TQKI7wu6DQzPpS_xvTWFTFXjiv7-_9DJbhjAqgnyT7BBU05U_nXR/s640/blogger-image-1823565321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntg6klptFehBOSfkKIIFE4CVmY5gNCB0IwaC20tkVX_hD2zV_3EG-z4Uarh0PGj6sTZ6VVmYewHfl76ODUOXHTLp9TQKI7wu6DQzPpS_xvTWFTFXjiv7-_9DJbhjAqgnyT7BBU05U_nXR/s640/blogger-image-1823565321.jpg"></a></div><i> (The Emerald Sea Resort: The only one open during the long monsoon season)</i></div><div><br></div><div>I will agree, Ngwe Saung is nothing like your clichéd beach destinations. There are no bikini clad waitresses to serve you margaritas, no fancy street shops or open bar restaurants playing loud music. Here the only sound you would hear are the sound of crashing waves and the only shopping option would be a handful of stores selling hand made baskets, wooden trays, cloth bags, flip flops and shell bracelets.</div><div><br></div><div>But Ngwe Saung is a beach like no other, worth visiting to soak up the sheer beauty of the Bay of Bengal or devour the exquisite local cuisine served in the non-glamorous roadside restaurants in the village ranging from barbecued lobsters, grilled whole fish in garlic sauce and Shark-fin soup to crispy fried soft shell crabs and my personal favorite the steamed fish in chilli and lemon.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKZcUyqODTdbSERLE9SiK7ZuJJgo2WtFZgp-j38T6woptjAW80FnY6UTl-XurEOXSyZs4arQT2FVSG9XOWcyW6RPW2GHyhX4yiJ6vhatGcYxu464RWgZxJ_O_nqt_zhtzPFFFj7SZlDWB/s640/blogger-image--718435305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHKZcUyqODTdbSERLE9SiK7ZuJJgo2WtFZgp-j38T6woptjAW80FnY6UTl-XurEOXSyZs4arQT2FVSG9XOWcyW6RPW2GHyhX4yiJ6vhatGcYxu464RWgZxJ_O_nqt_zhtzPFFFj7SZlDWB/s640/blogger-image--718435305.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <i>The seafood in Ngwe Saung is a must-try</i></div><div><br></div><div> So what if it lacked glitz and the glamor of a Miami, a La Jolla or a Phuket. So what if it didn't have the noise or the sheer life that had made these a dream holiday destination across the globe, Ngwe Saung was special. She was raw, untouched, almost like a virgin. And as I dipped my feet into its warm waters watching the sky turn into scarlet orange, I knew that I had just gotten a sneak-peek into heaven!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-17775408955369234602014-03-10T22:39:00.001-07:002015-06-24T02:28:12.577-07:00To the city that changed me...<i><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>To DC, with love...</i><div><i><br></i></div><div>By Aswathy Kumar</div><div><br></div><div><div>I am a blogger or so I'd like to say every time someone asks me what I did. Maybe cos writing has always been one of my biggest passions or maybe simply because it sounded a lot cooler than a stay at home mother or even worse, a housewife.</div><div><br></div><div>It all started when my husband dropped this bombshell on me that we were shifting to Nairobi for three years. To be honest, I wasn't thrilled. I was to bid adieu to my home for the past 8 years and go from being a 24x7 working girl to a full time stay at home mom. </div><div><br></div><div>'It will be fun,' he had promised guiltily.</div><div><br></div><div>And boy it was, making the next three years one of the best times of my entire life. And slowly my blog, ashwrites began to take form. There were so many places to see, people to meet, experiences to be shared and so much to write.</div><div><br></div><div>But very soon, it was time to move again. It was time for a new location, a new home and a whole new adventure. And though it was heartbreaking to bid farewell to our friends, I was excited for the new adventure that lay in front of me. An adventure called the U.S of A. I was ready and confident. After Nairobi, surviving the US was going to be easy...or so I thought.</div><div><br></div><div>But it wasn't. In fact, it was quite the opposite. My life went straight from chauffeur driven cars, uniformed nannies fussing over my little one and sipping garam chais and munching savory pakoras by the pool to sweeping, mopping, organizing play dates and scrubbing toilets. Very quickly I realized that here you couldn't just swish a wand and expect things to magically appear. And here the term, 'Hard work' took a whole new different meaning...</div></div><div><br></div><div><div>Two years passed by. We were only slowly learning to make peace with our cranky neighbor downstairs and see the beauty behind DC's brutal pinching winters. But it was time to move again. And this time it was the unexplored streets of Yangon that awaited our arrival. </div><div><br></div><div>Life had taken a full 360 and here I was having breakfast in my lavish balcony watching sunrise with the monstrous Shwedagon Pagoda glistening in the backdrop, penning down article after article onto my blog.</div><div><br></div><div>'Serene, raw and spectacular city,....the land of golden pagodas,' I went on and on praising my new home. But every time I came up with all possible cliches I could think of to best describe Yangon, I couldn't help but sense a slight pinch of guilt starting to arise inside me. I stared at the pages that lay scattered around me, then back at my computer screen. It had pictures of me trying on the traditional longyi at Bogyoke market, posing with the traditional Myanmar umbrellas and amidst beautiful golden stupas. But it was hard to ignore the fact, that in my entire page, there wasn't a single word about the city that I had recently bid adieu to. There wasn't a picture...not even a tiny caption. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.</div></div><div><br></div><div><div>So today, I sit here in my balcony, ignoring the beautifully landscaped lush green gardens and the view of the spectacular Shewdagon towering over, but instead reminiscing about the two years I spent in DC, thinking of the right words that I could use to best describe it.</div><div><br></div><div>But I have no words, no adjectives and no cliches. All I have is an image...an image of a mother and her curly haired five year old daughter walking along a beautifully paved road. The designer shops and departmental stores aligning the road though closed, hardly appeared to be so, thanks to the glaring neon lights that shone from each one of them. It was late in the night and the roads had slowly started to clear. But neither the mother nor the child seemed to be in any hurry to rush back home. They stopped by each window to simply imitate a mannequin pose or make fun of an absolutely hideous outfit on display at Neimen Marcus. </div><div><br></div><div>Their house was still three blocks away and the temperature was slowly starting to drop. But they hardly seemed to care about the steep road that laid ahead or notice the little droplets of ice settling in their hair. They were happy and unafraid as they slowly hopped around, humming Alyssa Bonagura's, 'I make my own sunshine..rather loudly, out of tune and words completely jumbled up. But here no body cared. Here they were free, here they were safe...</div><div><br></div><div>Okay maybe DC lacked the culturally vibrancy of the raw and serene savannah or the brilliant Myanmar. Maybe it was a city of suited bureaucrats, spectacled investment bankers and sweat-pant clad soccer mommies and maybe it did after all fail to inspire the writer in me. </div><div><br></div><div>But in between the tedious metro runs, long queues at Costco and trips to play dates and whole foods I had forgotten to thank the city that had changed me in a way no city ever could. In a way, I thought I never could. A city that gave me a confidence that simply refuses to leave my side even during the worst of times. A strength, I never knew I had within and savor the sweet taste of freedom, that I never knew existed. </div><div><br></div><div>So here's to DC, here's to freedom. </div><div><br></div><div>Cheers!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div><div><br></div><div>Xx</div><div>Aswathy</div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-48988914685719953872014-03-03T02:51:00.001-08:002015-06-24T02:28:45.889-07:00Caught in a different kind of claustrophobia<h2><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px;">From high end designer haute couture and quaint boutique stores to traditional eateries and budget street shops, the Causeway Bay, is rightfully termed the shopping Mecca of Hong Kong</span></h2><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">By Aswathy Kumar</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A shopoholics paradise, a one-stop shopping destination, a must-visit and what not! These where a few cliches I had heard before I decided to head out to the highly recommended and popular Causeway Bay. It was my first day in Hong Kong and my husband was busy attending a work meeting. I was left with a fussy 6 year old, a wallet stuffed with Hong Kong dollars and a view of a fabulous city skyline waiting to be explored. I was a writer (or so I'd like to say just cos it sounds so much cooler than a stay-at-home mom) and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tread the jam packed and pleasantly claustrophobic streets of Hong Kong.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></span></div><div><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </i></div><div><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></i></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As always, this time too I hadn't done my homework. I was in a city I knew nothing about; only seen pictures of it in fancy postcards and heard stories from globe trotting friends and there was now way I was going to spoil any element of surprise that came along with it. So you can imagine my astonishment when i mentioned Causeway Bay and my driver replied in two terms, 'Sogo' or 'Times Square.' I had no idea what he was talking about? 'Times square,' I hesitated. They name sounded familiar, option, a little safer. </span></div></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now I had expected jam packed crowds, haphazard traffic and monstrous skyscrapers. My husband had prepared me well. What I did not expect was to walk into an enormous confusing and never ending maze of shopping malls, street bazaars, food markets and boutique stores. If you ever wondered how a shopoholics idea of heaven would look like? This was it, all stretched out mockingly in front of me. It was overwhelming, even for a pro like me. 'Hold onto mommy'' I told my daughter. 'We can do this.'</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Though for a hassle free shopping experience, I could have stuck to Times Square (but I was in no mood to empty my bank account) or the more budget friendly Japanese departmental store Sogo, I decided to stick to the streets. 'Thats where all the city charm lies' I convinced my six year old as I dragged her little frame through the less crowded Paterson street that housed a few expensive, yet quaint and definitely worth exploring boutique stores in the city.</span></div></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PXPy2v9gG1pT8RLT5G0GhzOUOAHY4S3Lr3iAlanoLhPMgeuFuD9NOteNjn2ycqXAmYOG6bA1mrEt90YD42CCZpGzLC5MAUHBy73_zpvGC5wPSeJ4y1YDe9Lzslw3wGa31dD0M90iERmi/s640/blogger-image--2048971377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PXPy2v9gG1pT8RLT5G0GhzOUOAHY4S3Lr3iAlanoLhPMgeuFuD9NOteNjn2ycqXAmYOG6bA1mrEt90YD42CCZpGzLC5MAUHBy73_zpvGC5wPSeJ4y1YDe9Lzslw3wGa31dD0M90iERmi/s640/blogger-image--2048971377.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> A hidden treasure, The Jardine's Crescent houses a number of cheap street bazaars</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTm5SrK1Y9ilkZiLdo8Pqye4jVfZv4n8ah-y1vEeA5KGgpTphVNKkvkpDIyc4QGFAK2HW4ARtFlF9dV6M27GJypH6HCTP4xmCPhA_yrohFtTK_OOA9NOUh3PssAbZjqeHG8cv3gIVjWOx6/s640/blogger-image-1495536876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTm5SrK1Y9ilkZiLdo8Pqye4jVfZv4n8ah-y1vEeA5KGgpTphVNKkvkpDIyc4QGFAK2HW4ARtFlF9dV6M27GJypH6HCTP4xmCPhA_yrohFtTK_OOA9NOUh3PssAbZjqeHG8cv3gIVjWOx6/s640/blogger-image-1495536876.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One of the highlights of my trip to Causeway Bay was finding a hidden treasure called Jardine's Crescent, an array of cheap street shops lying hidden amidst the snootiness, glitz and glamour of the surrounding fancy malls. I had just finished a sumptuous Singaporean meal of Char Kway Teow at a food court in the nearby Hysan Place. I was a couple of hundreds down and was about to hail a taxi back to the hotel when I treaded upon this hidden wonder. 'Just what I needed,' I thought as I entered into the neatly packed roadside bazaar selling a variety of goods ranging from women's clothing, accessories to electronics and household items at incredibly low prices. Even though I hardly bought anything, it was sheer fun watching the enthusiasm in the shop owners faces as they displayed their products with great élan or watch a buyer trying his best to strike a good bargain. The market also had some decent street eats and an inexpensive flower market at the end of the road. </span></div></div><div><br></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIU042sX-OHylUk1AtD0Okn-rGcIeYPiMlydthkdnxyoYVOXIy5OxuJcAiHcoK65F4adnO37_09pYGZrbaerKyBPqM5NAUjnR7TRgAtTfka91YZa8rFteh6l6y5u-mzCxeSGBWEffeU4p/s640/blogger-image--35047683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIU042sX-OHylUk1AtD0Okn-rGcIeYPiMlydthkdnxyoYVOXIy5OxuJcAiHcoK65F4adnO37_09pYGZrbaerKyBPqM5NAUjnR7TRgAtTfka91YZa8rFteh6l6y5u-mzCxeSGBWEffeU4p/s640/blogger-image--35047683.jpg"></a></div></span><i style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">From seafood, meats to spices and fresh veggies, the Causeway Food Market has it all </i></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjufqVN3LEn-Bt654YiRo_jHBdqdnOIgTyHGiFqn0bz7zsrEzfx7QUkWRBXAsohw3j-uljbYmWiPq__ilBLUkxbEXo_bnLCZw56yvZ6YKPmN0eOtd3T8NyeTo-xr9QDci1C3wpY0X1x-PyB/s640/blogger-image--411688373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjufqVN3LEn-Bt654YiRo_jHBdqdnOIgTyHGiFqn0bz7zsrEzfx7QUkWRBXAsohw3j-uljbYmWiPq__ilBLUkxbEXo_bnLCZw56yvZ6YKPmN0eOtd3T8NyeTo-xr9QDci1C3wpY0X1x-PyB/s640/blogger-image--411688373.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One of my other favorite part of my entire visit was when I finally managed to land up in the Causeway Bay food market. I was a tourist here, my stay limited to just three days but being a homemaker, a food enthusiast and an expat wife who could shift base and land up in a home kitchen of any new country at any point in time, I get a strange sense of joy in seeing a food bazaar packed with different kinds of seafood, meats, spices and fresh veggies. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEM_ELDSjx3tJwjHjj_MN-_82n6dxoT2rq4QJ1xcEUL-viKvNx_U3ibSlKd_HVDyjtbs8U-YhA2-u4YHex-RwGxKBd7RTexf6BYaBTW7ymCRIxfzElYgHC9lBQjVdof8QW4-i1pFJj7c_/s640/blogger-image--492030351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEM_ELDSjx3tJwjHjj_MN-_82n6dxoT2rq4QJ1xcEUL-viKvNx_U3ibSlKd_HVDyjtbs8U-YhA2-u4YHex-RwGxKBd7RTexf6BYaBTW7ymCRIxfzElYgHC9lBQjVdof8QW4-i1pFJj7c_/s640/blogger-image--492030351.jpg"></a></div><b><i> A prayer before the day begins</i></b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It was my first time at Causeway Bay and it was everything I had imagined it to be? Crazy, crowded and absolutely chaotic. But with all it's hidden treasures and charm, this was a kind of claustrophobia, I didn't mind getting trapped in over and over again. </span></div></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-38939306611706748842014-02-07T17:12:00.001-08:002014-02-07T17:12:00.249-08:00<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="http://www.expatsblog.com"><img src="http://www.expatsblog.com/images/badge80x15.gif" alt="Expats Blog" title="Expats Blog" border=0></a></span>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-2913145687077610512014-02-05T23:52:00.001-08:002014-02-17T07:09:34.703-08:00Bedecked in gold: The Shwedagon Pagoda<div><b><i>Came an atheist, left a believer</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div>By Aswathy Kumar</div><div><br></div><div>It was probably the first thing I saw as I exited the Yangon International Airport. I was nervous. I had bid farewell to my friends and my home back in DC and was stepping now into a mysterious land that I knew nothing about. But something about the 325 foot golden stupa that towered over the entire skyline of Yangon told me that I was going to be just fine. And as long as this gilded shrine stood watch, no harm was ever going to come to me in its land. </div><div><br></div><div>In the days that passed, I saw the Shwedagon Pagoda several times; from the glass window of my hotel room, every time I drove past it to reach downtown and even when I shifted into my new house, almost an hour away away from the Ar Za Nir street, where the pagoda was located. I saw it every single day and I could sense the strange feeling of guilt starting to rise within me. After all, it had been more than a month since I treaded it's very streets, a month since it welcomed me, embraced me and yet I had still not found time to pay homage to the shrine that epotimised the very warmth and serenity that defined the city of Yangon. I knew it was time, time for the much awaited divine rendezvous.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebHLtVE9-lwxmNw_EN6RCla1PT0TIwMa9ywsN52ZtdxyQJr14wk0qjhA7VXE3wv8_neUIoWiGIJJ2myg_a5tLYdjyl5Ctcaqx4c3CiNY045AfefqyXTSJNlbKchOh27CwR3tDXFXqNq6O/s640/blogger-image-744052534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebHLtVE9-lwxmNw_EN6RCla1PT0TIwMa9ywsN52ZtdxyQJr14wk0qjhA7VXE3wv8_neUIoWiGIJJ2myg_a5tLYdjyl5Ctcaqx4c3CiNY045AfefqyXTSJNlbKchOh27CwR3tDXFXqNq6O/s640/blogger-image-744052534.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i> The Shwedagon Pagoda at 325 feet tall towers over the entire city of Yangon</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><b>A Divine Intervention</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Though the pagoda is open for tourists from 6 am to 10pm, </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">it is best recommended to see the Shwedagon during sunrise and sunset. Because it is at these times one can see the golden pagoda glimmer in all it's glory, thanks to the 1800 carat (76 being the largest) diamond orb located at the top, comprising 4351 diamonds that captures the rays of the sun, reflecting it beautifully and making the entire stupa glisten in the light. So following my friend's </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">advice and to save myself from Yangon's scorching heat, I </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">arrived at its footsteps at 5.00 pm, almost an hour before sunset. I </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">had waited too long and I wasn't going to miss seeing the shrine at it's very best; just before, during and after sunset. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlF6ZvQH_oe-nE5_Q8mODBt_04Zu5vLTZM7PRH8DVl3eoibdw2uJXebsTRIA9pKinrE5mc9pk3VS8XCuwmBgzDR8ZT4rJAYeiLP3zHyIUOHkKuuvRP5pgkq6658xuyDRujKAKu3RS3Qzuj/s640/blogger-image-1603216001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlF6ZvQH_oe-nE5_Q8mODBt_04Zu5vLTZM7PRH8DVl3eoibdw2uJXebsTRIA9pKinrE5mc9pk3VS8XCuwmBgzDR8ZT4rJAYeiLP3zHyIUOHkKuuvRP5pgkq6658xuyDRujKAKu3RS3Qzuj/s640/blogger-image-1603216001.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <i> The Shwedagon Pagoda made out of over hundreds of gold</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i> plates is seen glistening in the setting sun </i></div></span></div><div><br></div><div>Just like most temples back in India, here too, the very first thing we had to do was remove our slippers before entering. But unlike temples back home, here there were no angry guards to yell at me or discard me as a mere sinner when I accidently treaded into its premises with my slippers on. (Even after living here a whole month, the locals' lack of aggression and plentiful amount of patience still seem to amaze me). There was no shouting and no angry stares, but just a polite gesture to remove my slipper and place it in my handbag before I went in through security.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRiNRVAhCN8IUkaxC37m-8I6kgFB_HZxCPB-oPKtMKgMn58S1wYO1skcdurlcHegZJnPtatYiC03Aoug0KsGx3oy9dc6zIL6pMC172trAlGx_0vLZ-9ed64KxmW1906nLfUqlgSglLdMI/s640/blogger-image-156211792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRiNRVAhCN8IUkaxC37m-8I6kgFB_HZxCPB-oPKtMKgMn58S1wYO1skcdurlcHegZJnPtatYiC03Aoug0KsGx3oy9dc6zIL6pMC172trAlGx_0vLZ-9ed64KxmW1906nLfUqlgSglLdMI/s640/blogger-image-156211792.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>The locals' lack of aggression should never be misunderstood as a sign of weakness and it should always be remembered that the pagoda is a place of worship</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Despite the lack of aggression, it must be noted that this place is sacred and must be approached with utmost respect. Though it is absolutely fine to wear jeans and t shirts, one is expected to dress modestly keeping their arms and legs covered and nothing short or disrespectful is permitted. The </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">entry for locals was free, but we had to pay an entry fee of $5 (8000 kyat) each. What was amazing was that despite being one the most visited attractions in Myanmar, seeing over 1000 tourists every day, there were no long queues, unecessary security check points or chaotic traffic jams at the entrance, making the entry as peaceful as the tiled premises encircling the pagoda. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9BqgBs-VsTrGGK6P7mH_wyH4uihAeK4cBBGcZxZsEqAcTXqDk4XORnDq1w3pRmVcksPAsP6zpwxyyPNjVtAHbkqICjXlXG8WSpgd06Ud7vniEs1f8togYFXQMcbTa3l1QBznBR3WRsbs8/s640/blogger-image--1490084032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9BqgBs-VsTrGGK6P7mH_wyH4uihAeK4cBBGcZxZsEqAcTXqDk4XORnDq1w3pRmVcksPAsP6zpwxyyPNjVtAHbkqICjXlXG8WSpgd06Ud7vniEs1f8togYFXQMcbTa3l1QBznBR3WRsbs8/s640/blogger-image--1490084032.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <i>With my daughter at Shwedagon Pagoda</i></div><br></div><div>There are several entrances to the shwedagon pagoda. If you don't mind a bit of a climb, you can chose between the over hundreds of steps on the south, west, north or eastern entrance (south being the most preferred and having the least number of steps). Though the shopoholic in me, would have preferred to take the eastern entrance that houses a number of souvenir shops, tea stalls and interesting bazaars, the mommy in me decided to stick to the easiest option of taking the elevators at the southern entrance. And though I was a bit disappointed that I missed out on all the shopping, I was glad to find myself right at the footstep of the 150 year old Bodhi tree. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQhvGvXJpe-eZDFBcKm3MK4HaP-U60T0nM3QzUnlpHFClVyi2gVDYGlIkMMcOdWoy8kfwRyPXm2lPHcdNumRBR9FhvHm87_JtMFukIUGtI6c7l0OiDdvNPTtSGQzfUgTpw5DtHoYwrIoJ/s640/blogger-image--403649180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQhvGvXJpe-eZDFBcKm3MK4HaP-U60T0nM3QzUnlpHFClVyi2gVDYGlIkMMcOdWoy8kfwRyPXm2lPHcdNumRBR9FhvHm87_JtMFukIUGtI6c7l0OiDdvNPTtSGQzfUgTpw5DtHoYwrIoJ/s640/blogger-image--403649180.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>The 114 acre sprawling land also houses a number of temples, prayer halls and Buddha statues</i></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div><div>A total of five Bodhi trees planted all around as early as in the 1926 is regarded with utmost respect and reverence by the locals and the monks alike. And I couldn't help but consider myself lucky when one of the locals handed me a leaf from the Bodhi tree. It was only once I was handed the leaf did I realise that there were hardly any fallen leaf to be found lying around. Thankfully I was able to get just about three more for my friend, my daughter and my husband and <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">couldn't help but think of it as a sign acknowledging and accepting my arrival.</span></div><div><br></div><div>Though one might need a guided tour to completely understand the significance and the story behind each of the innumerable gilded Buddha statues and hundreds of temples spread across the sprawling 114 acre sacred land, our little group of three chose to simply walk around to absorb the sanctity of this architectural wonder and grandeur of the several Buddha idols. But despite having a detailed map of the the Shewdagon and the entire evening, it was still not enough to offer our respects to the various Buddha images <i>(The Padashin Buddha, Saetawmu Buddha, Sun-Moon Buddha, Shin Saw Pu's Buddha, Chan-Thar-Gyi Buddha, Dhamazedi Buddha, Shin Ma Htee's Buddha, and my personal favorite the Jade Buddha carved out of one piece jade and weighing a total of 324 kgs, to name a few</i>) housed in the different prayer halls. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qggHLTAZZp0k2zns_rmoazYT6Aw89vreg7I06wQO-lY1wWDgMe3o5HWGHOg-q9rLPpUfyP4RMXjywx4mXoATmj-JQjNdOMv2yr3pPuWRSQzRBFbVCsyquxXG72ba8pgSDWYNRVrs6V32/s640/blogger-image--1294117478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qggHLTAZZp0k2zns_rmoazYT6Aw89vreg7I06wQO-lY1wWDgMe3o5HWGHOg-q9rLPpUfyP4RMXjywx4mXoATmj-JQjNdOMv2yr3pPuWRSQzRBFbVCsyquxXG72ba8pgSDWYNRVrs6V32/s640/blogger-image--1294117478.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Just after sunset, one can see the thousands of oil lamps circling the shrine, glimmering to life</i></div><div><br></div><div>However what we did have time for, was to simply marvel the sight of the thousands of oil lamps circling the shrine glimmering to life, hear the silent whispers of the hundreds of monks praying in the the gigantic shadows cast by the golden pagoda that towered over them and listen to the bustling of devotees as they offered flowers and washed the statues asking for forgiveness for their past sins and wishes for a prospective future. </div><div><br></div><div>I was no devotee, my knowledge of the spiritual world rather limited to a few chants and rituals passed on from my grandmother and great grandmother, yet I couldn't help notice the feeling that had begin to well-up within me as I washed the planetary post that represented the day, my daughter was born. I wasn't sure how many times I was to wash the Buddha idol, the image of the guardian angel and the image of the animal that represented the day (I was only told much later that I was to do it 9 times). I wasn't sure which mantra I was to chant. All I did know was that something changed within me as I sat cross legged engrossed in the sheer beauty that stood in front of me. I knew right away...I may have treaded into its premises an atheist, but was leaving a believer. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div><br></div><div style="text-align: start;"><br></div><div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0Pun Hlaing Golf Estate Hlaingtharya16.842528 96.098017tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-20764985250763061462014-01-04T00:04:00.001-08:002014-03-14T02:31:51.521-07:00Treading the streets of Yangon<div>By Aswathy Kumar</div><div><br></div><div>I still remember the glee on my face when my husband told me we were to stay at a lavish five star hotel for two whole weeks. We had just moved to Yangon.The packing, the travel, the shifting and all the stress that came with a change of location was done. We were finally here and it was time to relax and enjoy all the perks that came with a big move.</div><div><br></div><div>I was neither a spendthrift nor a spoilt housewife. Yet I felt no ounce of guilt when I saw my husband swipe his credit card at the hotel reception. I needed it. Felt I deserved it. After all it was only a meager paycheck for all that I had to endure living in a developed nation like the USA. Two years, two long years I had spent mopping, vacuuming, organizing play dates, cooking and what not and it was finally payback time!</div><div><br></div><div>I no longer had to cook or make beds in the morning. Instead an extravagant breakfast awaited me every morning at the restaurant cafe. Cinnamom buns, honey glazed croissants, pecan crusted donuts adorned the baker's aisle followed by delicacies from every South East Asian country one could possibly think of. There was the Singaporean Kaya toast, a traditional breakfast dish comprising sweet coconut and egg jam spread over bread, Rice and Maldivian fish curry, Chinese pork dumplings followed by Masala Dosa and parippu vada from my very own home state of Kerala. The sumptuous breakfast was often followed by a movie session and hours and hours of lounging around at the rooftop pool sipping chilled raspberry Mojitos. Life couldn't get any better than this or so I thought.</div><div><br></div><div>I had done this routine for three whole days. But then something strange happened. The very same delicacies, the posh lounge bars and the glittery chandeliers began to bore me. The array of different flavored cheesecakes at the bakery, the</div><div>free flowing lattes and the mochas or the exquisite teak wood furniture in my master suite failed to excite me. I was bored of the luxury that I so yearned for in the past two years. it was time, I thought. Time to step out of the glitzy shell and explore the streets of Yangon. Time for some reality check, I thought!</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgA2zDA7UvaSVlrW_HQlyyx3K2tAwCSByTg3M-MKpLYcNbbAwNkrRXeViH2s7A9ECtjpi6buauCttjZJif_eqlUK2vjoPJ6J3nAih8BwZAr8yH7Ja_eVoyYS97YBn5bCMSWbmslrC-iiZ_/s640/blogger-image-569946904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgA2zDA7UvaSVlrW_HQlyyx3K2tAwCSByTg3M-MKpLYcNbbAwNkrRXeViH2s7A9ECtjpi6buauCttjZJif_eqlUK2vjoPJ6J3nAih8BwZAr8yH7Ja_eVoyYS97YBn5bCMSWbmslrC-iiZ_/s640/blogger-image-569946904.jpg"></a></div><i> Street eats outside Bogyoke Market</i></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Bogyoke Market</div><div><br></div><div>My first stop was obvious being the shopaholic that I was and it's proximity to the Traders hotel that I was staying at. It was going to be the famous Bogyoke Market.</div><div>No tourist visit to Yangon is considered complete without stopping by this famous market, also know by it's English name, Scott's market.</div><div><br></div><div>Agreed the Aung San Road, where the market is located was way more chaotic than I had expected. Or maybe not! Maybe It was the clean, beautifully landscaped and snooty pavements of DC that had spoilt me. I had forgotten the noise of honking cars and overloaded buses. I had forgotten the sound of kids playing a game of ball on a lazy afternoon or the sound of an elderly vendor spitting paan on the already tobacco smeared walls.</div><div><br></div><div>It was no different from any of the famous shopping streets back in New Delhi, that I had grown up with. It felt nostalgic as I slowly made way through the different vendors selling various varieties of fruits, fried food, old second hand books in Burmese and little tea stalls selling biscuits stored in glass bottles along with a number of other baked delicacies. It was chaotic but I loved it.</div><div><br></div><div>One of the scariest part for an expat like me in Yangon was the fact that there was no proper pedestrian crossings or traffic lights and here no one was in a mood to stop no matter how long you waited. So it was a big relief to see that there was a huge bridge for pedestrians to crossover to the other side of the road, leading straight to the market.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf0irJ9YzWq0Yz8wCYVZ-_DsFhrJi5ITxouAFGfr1tYAXudMW78qbbbkxKTPdEthWTFx8eLE9fWyGd-gebqQY32QThSnxM2h2HMbTJauOG6cv8zdJ44YetRZW-QqXzfbBudHnlWamrS2BC/s640/blogger-image-1948660441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf0irJ9YzWq0Yz8wCYVZ-_DsFhrJi5ITxouAFGfr1tYAXudMW78qbbbkxKTPdEthWTFx8eLE9fWyGd-gebqQY32QThSnxM2h2HMbTJauOG6cv8zdJ44YetRZW-QqXzfbBudHnlWamrS2BC/s640/blogger-image-1948660441.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> <i> Trying on the traditional Longyi</i></div></div></div><div><br></div><div> Now if it is your first time here, I would recommend starting with the central part of the market. Not only is it cleaner and a bit less chaotic than the other sections, it also houses all that a tourist would potentially want to buy in Yangon. From jewelry made out of different types of stones like jade and turquoise, hand woven lungis and colorful flip-flops to paintings by local artists to my personal favorite; shops selling exquisite lacquerware and wooden and metal religious artifacts.</div><div><br></div><div>Ask any woman, what you should pick up while in Myanmar and you can almost be certain that she will answer with a glint in her eyes 'the rubies'. Though there are several high-end and pricey gems and jewelry stores spread out all through the city, the locals feel that the Bogyoke market is equally a great option when it comes to buying authentic rubies. Though one can never be a hundred percent sure in either of the two cases, I would recommend going for the latter especially as I personally believe when it comes to authenticity it is all in the mind. Here you can find beautiful pieces of necklaces, bangles and earrings in rubies, jade and sapphire at a really good bargain. If you prefer, designing your own jewelry, there are several shops on the top floor selling just the stones. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJR9IBpZ2LXzoAzqrDmBv5op5FlzLDbiHA3Tvt-PmWiop30Pu9MOzMA3LlUhFVFuqdy9eNXn1A2qNBk8pJswe8DUL54K0SGkZM2Iyh0vzE563vQqItE9Sx1-CDUVo75l-p8LKbv0ALVI0Q/s640/blogger-image--1571854336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJR9IBpZ2LXzoAzqrDmBv5op5FlzLDbiHA3Tvt-PmWiop30Pu9MOzMA3LlUhFVFuqdy9eNXn1A2qNBk8pJswe8DUL54K0SGkZM2Iyh0vzE563vQqItE9Sx1-CDUVo75l-p8LKbv0ALVI0Q/s640/blogger-image--1571854336.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i> My favorite buys! the traditional Myanmar umbrellas</i> </div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Unlike the street markets in India where shopkeepers would hover over around you and literally badger you with their goods, here there is no such thing. And I felt perfectly safe walking around in circles with my curious six year old daughter, who made it a point to touch every single artifact displayed in the front of the shops. But here people had no complaints and responded affectionately with a smile or a friendly pat on her tangled curly hair. </div><div><br></div><div>Unlike India, People here are calmer, welcoming and pleasant making it a blissful experience for anyone new. So unlike in Delhi where I would recommend tourists to bring their A-game when it comes to their bargaining skills, here in Myanmar, I would advice you to be gentle and less aggressive. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7I-0JknjVDHDy3M8wuFTv4e4thYY_h8EUU49D3a72tF2D2vEZWVobslJ7mROLt8vjBNcIMJlpJ3r7ySSUx_rQfgcVYVWf3qY_8yMgspgnm5lGIn9kA9CDrrHixce0Kbn52NCJ2Sfx-PCF/s640/blogger-image-477833620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7I-0JknjVDHDy3M8wuFTv4e4thYY_h8EUU49D3a72tF2D2vEZWVobslJ7mROLt8vjBNcIMJlpJ3r7ySSUx_rQfgcVYVWf3qY_8yMgspgnm5lGIn9kA9CDrrHixce0Kbn52NCJ2Sfx-PCF/s640/blogger-image-477833620.jpg"></a></div><b><i> My dream buy, Saphire, Rubi &Emerald Necklace: Vikram are you listening?</i></b></div><div><br></div><div>A few hours of callously longing around the market and a quick lunch of chicken curry noodles at a nearby Singaporean restaurant for less than $5, it was time to head back to the hotel. As I opened up my plastic bag, exposing a printed blue loungyi, a pair of neon pink flip flops and a sparkly spring bracelet that I had picked up for my daughter, I could see the beige colored walls of the Bogyoke Market through my bedroom window. There was nothing glossy or glamorous about the ancient building; quite unlike the brand new Parksons Mall that lay right adjacent to it. But she was unique, she was charming and full of character unlike any other shopping markets in the city. And I couldn't wait to tread its streets yet again.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com1Pun Hlaing Golf Estate Hlaingtharya16.842399 96.096128tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1574513167886856778.post-53287931030902250732013-12-22T05:59:00.001-08:002013-12-22T05:59:05.353-08:00The divine kiss<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">Amidst the crowd, noise and the chaos stands a shrine so tall, one that can only be best described as an epitome of love, faith and serenity. #shwedagon pagoda #yangon</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivUVuiwXqhaF0vk24F7tVK-V7hAyquKsMNyMq9YVtilitobiOeDFeVP-uWXU8Q7NN8F8_ebgsRA7EVLhT60FSweTWvht7kP19CStpBMbWCQ6LXav8Jbbjmpy0csU2d3-9soFsMBzr-Ixp/s640/blogger-image--90496524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivUVuiwXqhaF0vk24F7tVK-V7hAyquKsMNyMq9YVtilitobiOeDFeVP-uWXU8Q7NN8F8_ebgsRA7EVLhT60FSweTWvht7kP19CStpBMbWCQ6LXav8Jbbjmpy0csU2d3-9soFsMBzr-Ixp/s640/blogger-image--90496524.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>ashwriteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02277733147419396866noreply@blogger.com0