Every Day is: Library Day

Monday – no wait, it is Tuesday.  Wait – what day is it?

Every day becomes library day.  You lose track of the days, and they all blur together.  Coming home on the subway tonight I thought, “Why are there so many people – its 10:30pm?!” and then it hit me – Saturday night in Bangkok.  Oh wow I completely forgot that #1: It is the weekend and #2 what it was like to have a social life.

I have spent so much time here - I couldn't help showing off my sweet work space

“Ash, you really should stop counting how many of those you eat – it’s not good to keep track of that,” says Megumi as I wolf down another 7 Eleven sandwich.  I lost track somewhere after 168…but the variety between pizza, ham and cheese, and tuna sandwiches keeps us going for months.

I move seats in the library or on the subway if someone starts coughing or sniffling.  I give them a look like, “It’s not you it’s me - I just REALLY can’t afford to get sick right now” or “I’m sorry, but my body has been living off of Coke and tuna for the past month and I just don’t think that really boosted my immune system enough to handle something else right now…”  I am officially paranoid.  I wash my hands with every opportunity I get and shove vitamins down my throat.  I try to talk to my body and think – ‘Ok, just a few more weeks, and then you can sleep and be sick all you want.  I know Coke and cheap microwaveable food isn’t the best, but what else can I do right now?!’   

Sustenance: Coke and Ham and Cheese Sandwiches courtesy of 7 Eleven

But through it all – I am excited.  I am excited with the results of my research, I am excited about the opportunity I had just come back from in Myanmar, and I am excited to share the people of Ngwe Saung’s story.  I write and write and write and each day, come home to review it, because I’m certain it isn’t enough to give their stories justice.  I want my reader to sense what I felt wandering around the village.  I want them to be able to see the dedicated parents who were working two jobs in order to keep their children in school.  I want them to know the hardworking hotel high school graduate who sent all of her income and earnings back home to support her family, and feel the toothless grin of that fisherman on the beach.  I want each detail, each story, to be incorporated in some way and I feel the pressure of accurately including and recounting each of their stories.  But they are amazing stories to tell and I am honored to tell them.

The Sprint that Lasts A Marathon

Are We There Yet?  This is PAINFUL!

Whoever was quoted with that phrase “This is not a sprint, it is a marathon – remember to pace yourself” has never been a student in this program.  It is a sprint that endures the time limit and length of a marathon – panned out over the course of a year with the most treacherous terrain known to man.  Instead of having your muscles burn from a paced run, you are wheezing and gasping for air just trying to get through each mile.

I arrived back from Myanmar and by the following morning, without even unpacking my bags, I found myself back in the library.  I had two and a half weeks to organize and internalize all of my data, find a brilliant solution/answer to my research questions, and write a little over 130 pages for my thesis, to be submitted to my supervisors for editing.  After that – it was another short 2 weeks until I had to defend my thesis in front of my committee of experts.

7 Eleven Fine Dining - Tuna Sandwiches and Dumplings

I always used to make fun of those people (mainly Americans) who were so isolated from international news, media and politics that they never knew what was going on in the world.  I used to say, with total amusement, “Do you live under a ROCK?!”  Well, I can officially say that for the past month during this crunch time – I lived under a massive boulder.  People would write me and ask, “Did you hear about so and so…?” or “Did you see what happened in ….”  Nope.  Unless it occurred within earshot of the isolated cubicle of mine in the library – I knew nothing.  I missed the Olympics which broke my heart, and I missed an entire month of my life.  Thanks to 7 Eleven which kept my brain fueled on Coke Zero and ham and cheese sandwiches for the month – I was able to work 12-15 hour days in the library in total isolation.

It got to the point where I began to make lists of things I could cut out from my normal routine to save time to work longer.  In the beginning, I cut out lengthy meals and stuck to microwaveable sandwiches and snacks.  But by week two, I realized this wasn’t enough, so I cut out laundry and Facebook.  Week three I began to cut out showers, which was unfortunate considering my clothes gave up showering a week earlier.  By the end…well it was just ugly.

Between the madness, I was able to jot down a few moments that I will share in this blog.  I will spare you the meltdowns (although don’t worry – they were there!) in describing what it is like to prepare, research, write and defend a Master’s thesis within three months.  Here we go…

Myanmar and How I fell in Love

Well this certainly isn’t the first time I have gushed about foreign, undiscovered and breathtaking Myanmar.  If nothing else, this trip confirmed my fascination, love and obsession for the country and its people.

While it is impossible to summarize or stereotype the people and their country, part of its beauty is how different and unique it all really is.  Six months ago, I climbed archeological masterpieces and marveled at the natural beauty of Inle Lake.  This trip, I spent nearly three weeks at the beach, and through researching tourism – I heard of hundreds of other places worth visiting in Myanmar.  And while the people are different based on ethnic groups, language and culture, like the country, whether you marvel at pagodas or catch the sun setting on the lake, they are all just as amazing.

The people of Myanmar are without a doubt the best part of the entire country, and the thing that sets it apart from every other place I have ever visited.

They are risk-takers.  They are strong.  They are tough, they are loving, and they are ready for change.  They are proud to be from Myanmar and look towards a brighter tomorrow.

Their smiles are intoxicating, their strong hearts are inspiring and their motivation is contagious.  Every single person I interviewed, whether they be a fisherman, hotel manager, teacher, monk, housewife, waiter, farmer or police man – regardless of whether they made less than $1 per day or over $8 per day said they were proud of their job and it was a respected and desired job within the community.  They were proud of their work, proud of their lifestyle, and genuinely happy.

What was most humbling was how hard each parent worked to give their child a better and brighter future.  And they worked hard.  Parents were happy to share their children’s graduation photos, certificates and marks and gushed when sharing what they hoped their children will be when they grow up.  We interviewed parents with less than a primary education level who were supporting their children in high school and spoke of Harvard, PhDs and university.  Parents contributed up to 40% of their income towards the education of their children and understood the importance of investing in their children, and their children’s’ futures.

 

A sports team can only be as strong as the players within it, as a country can only be as strong as its people.  Myanmar has the strongest and sturdiest people I have ever met.  I truly believe that the country, as a whole, will soon see the successes that I have been lucky enough to witness from its individuals.

Bago and The Delta

The train ride to Bago

I had a few days left in Yangon before I returned to Bangkok and as luck would have it, one of my dear friends from Rotary happened to be in town!  Ann Marie and I met at our Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship Orientation – in San Jose, two years ago.  She is on scholarship in Malaysia during the same year that I am in Thailand.  We’ve met in Viet Nam and at the Rotary Convention in Bangkok, but this was the first time we had a chance to travel together.

Beautiful golden pagodas in Bago

We took two day trips, the first of which was from Yangon to Twante – a small village on the Delta where the journey to Twante was an adventure in itself.  We took a beautiful rickety ferry ride across the Yangon River, past large freight ships and tiny fisherman boats.  Then, we spent over an hour sitting in the back of the pickup being hustled by local people for rides.  We were the only foreigners and it appeared it had been several days since the last ones (we were told later that last week there were two Australians…) and it was apparent that people were not accustomed to random tourists hanging around.  We wandered around town and realized that there really wasn’t much to see.  We documented the trip to Twante as an interesting interaction with local people, and turned around and came back!

Can you see the three chickens in this snake's stomach?!

But the following day, we took the two hour local train to Bago.  Lonely Planet describes it as a “Disney-flavored theme park of gaudy religious sites” and they couldn’t be more accurate.  As we climbed the first pagoda and stared out into the tree line, beautiful massive pagoda tops grazed the green.   But unlike Bagan, where the skyline was filled with ancient brick and sand tops of pagodas that had been weathered down, this skyline sparkled in gold.  The highlight of Bagan was the snake monastery, where a 124-year old Burmese python lives.  Legend has it that the snake told its owner the exact address he needed to go to in Bago in order to complete the construction of the stupa begun in a previous life.  Every year, tons of pilgrims come to pay homage to the snake, who chows down on 11 pounds of chicken every ten days…we could even see the three chickens in three huge blobs in his stomach.

Leaving Ngwe Saung

An afternoon friendly football game on the beach

Leaving Ngwe Saung was difficult.  For some weird reason, even though I had only been there for a short time and couldn’t even communicate with the local people – I knew my way around town and knew familiar faces from the local villagers we had interviewed.  I saw their day-to-day lives, and understood the “routine” of the town.  Hosana and I had fallen into a routine of our own – interviewing and exploring town all day, walking along the beach in the evening, and going to the one restaurant in town that was open only to order the same exact meal every night (and it was delicious!).  

And although we were working ten to twelve hour days and it was exhausting – it was exciting, addicting even – and I didn’t want to stop!  By the end, I am not sure there was any kind of occupation, family or individual we didn’t interview, but I still felt that I could have stayed there for months and gotten to know the people and the town more.

Enjoying the afternoon sun!

But the clock was ticking on my definitive deadline on submitting my thesis – and I knew I had to get back and start writing!

To Khin Mg Swe – I will never forget your selfless support in these past few weeks in Myanmar.  From the moment you arrived at the bus station (without my knowledge!) I was incredibly grateful for your help and care, which only greatened over my stay in Ngwe Saung.

To Hosana – Words cannot describe how thankful and indebted I am to your help,  guidance and support throughout my research project and time in Myanmar.  I had such a good time with you and this research in those several weeks that it was hard to get on a plane and leave!  From sharing music to culture to delicious fish dinners, we managed to largely surpass our research expectations and generated an incredibly unique project with monumental results.  Thank you so much for your help and guidance and for making this project the level and caliber that it is today.

To the local people of Ngwe Saung – I cannot thank you enough for your willingness to help, and your dedication to share.  We would come home at the end of a ten to twelve hour day, only to find people lined up at our hotel waiting to share their stories.  I could not have asked for a better first field research project  – it is not a goodbye, just a “See you soon!”

Afternoon Tide in Ngwe Saung, Myanmar

Involuntary Blood Donations

Ruthless BLOODSUCKERS!

Hosana and I had the pleasure of involuntarily donating blood to the most ruthless mosquitoes I have ever encountered for the entire duration of our trip in Ngwe Saung.  Because there is no electricity for a fan in the middle of the night, you are a sitting target for these blood suckers, who show no mercy.   

After the first night, I woke up to find over forty bites on my arms, legs, and even face.  When I woke up the following morning, I could barely open my eye because mosquitoes had bitten my eye lid and it was inflamed.  In the beginning, it was a game to see how you could better prepare yourself against the miserable creatures.  But as you tried mosquito repellent after mosquito repellent, coils burning through the night, covering yourself entirely with the bed sheet…you realized there was no end or victory.  I would wake up to hear buzzing around my ear and groan because I couldn’t escape!

I thought that by killing some of them, I would lessen the number of bites on my body, or at least take out my aggression against the bloodsuckers.  But they were fast!  I quickly learned that the only ones I could clap between my hands and squish were the ones who had bellies so full of blood they couldn’t fly fast enough.  As I would clap my hands, blood would smear on my palms and I would scream “Ew!” and then get more upset that another one already filled up on blood, and was determined to kill more out of frustration.

 

My sacrificial arm strategy against those darn mosquitoes!

By the end of the first week, the best strategy I had been able to devise, was to leave a limb, preferably an arm, outside of the covers, while you wrapped your entire body underneath the sheet.  The mosquitoes would violently destroy your arm, but the rest of your body remained relatively untouched (‘relatively’ in Ngwe Saung mosquito terms mean less than 25 bites…small accomplishments!).  By the end of the week, my sacrificial arm was a mine field of attacks.

To the mosquitoes of Ngwe Saung – you are welcome.