Burma AKA Myanmar

Not many Americans get the opportunity to visit Burma AKA Myanmar; not many Americans want to visit the communist country run by a totalitarian dictator.
A few years ago before retirement, I visited Burma because IBM had nineteen employees still struggling to operate a tiny unit-record (no computers) office there. The employees were grateful for my daring to come see them, and I was grateful for the opportunity. The government would allow citizens to leave the country, but they weren’t allowed to come back. So the nineteen employees would not leave.
Getting into the country, past customs and immigration, was tedious at best and nerve-wracking at worst. My wife went with me and had her customary travel jewelry with her—she had to list every piece and declare a value-in pencil on a sheet of foolscap. She was warned that each piece must be accounted for on her departure, and that any jewelry bought in the country must be declared and a heavy duty paid thereon.
The hotel we stayed in had been built by the Russians and was dilapidated, but the only show in town. The swimming pool was one of the most disgusting sights I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, despite the hot humid weather nobody was brave enough to jump in the mess. One of the grand old world-class hotels—one that entertained many famous people, including Ernest Hemmingway—the Strand was now a derelict of its former grandeur.
We knew that the public water supply would be unsafe, but hoped that the hotel maintained a filtration system. But when I saw the hotel attendant go outside and fill the so-called safe water pitcher from an ordinary faucet, I broke out my bottle of iodine pills to purify enough water to brush our teeth. We only drank beer, that we hoped had been pasteurized.
Rangoon, once known as the “pearl of the orient” was now a crumbling reminder of the once resplendent city. The government, having no funds for upkeep (or anything else, but the Army it seems) simply let the jungle begin to take over. Normal systems didn’t work: garbage was strewn everywhere, electricity was sporadic, and air-conditioning was non-existent. Hordes of flies were everywhere, making dining a constant battle to keep them away from the food.
I was told that the day after the military coup, shop owners told me that they were either to leave their businesses or become clerks working for the government. Those shopkeepers in ill favor with the military weren’t given any choice—they were simply told to vacate their stores and not come back.
The dictator, U Win, would not tolerate any disagreement with his personal dictates. He once had his armed palace guard chase several intrepid expatriates congregated for a Christmas celebration from the hotel into the streets for making noise that disturbed his sleep.
The main tourist attraction in Burma was/is the collection of temples, usually seen on National Geographic travelogues. These gold-leafed structures are sad reminders of their once resplendent iconic presence; now with virtually impenetrable jungles for backgrounds. Visitors must remove shoes before entering the holy areas, but much like other parts of the city, care must be taken to avoid stepping in stuff that might remind one of walking barefoot through a cow pasture.
An intrepid soul might hire a taxi for a visit to the vast opium poppy fields along the border with Thailand and Cambodia, but the risk of being shot with a poison dart from the hill tribes was not insignificant; that is, unless you advertized that you were there to buy opium.
The citizens we met were friendly and hospitable, the food was delectable, and shopping was a tourist’s paradise. Precious stones, particularly rubies were inexpensive and plentiful, but the duty on exiting the country was prohibitive. To hide these stones from customs lackeys was an easy way to rot in a Burmese jail—one could not count on U. S. diplomatic help, as there was no American embassy.
Most readers will have read or heard about Aung Sang Suu Kyi, the popular leader of people striving for a democratic process. She has been under house arrest for over twenty-five years. She turned sixty-five years old this year.
So, I leave you dear reader, with the following admonitions:
-don’t drink the water-take purifying pills along
-delcare all purchases and pay the exorbitant duty
-don’t go wandering about in the environs of the hill tribes
-read up and adhere to the law of the land, no matter how abhorrent

U Win is long since dead, but his son has followed in his father’s footsteps.