Rowing at Dawn on Lake Inle. (Photo by Lauren Mowery)

Countries will surprise you. Like people, you think you understand their identity based on stories you read or images you view. Whether forming opinions from a 19th-century novel or a scandalous modern day tell all, an impressionist oil painting or series of poorly focused Trip Advisor member photos, humans have been unfairly judging places and each other, before we get to know them personally, for centuries. It’s an imperfect system. Yet it’s the one we have for making decisions on where we go, what we eat, and who we’ll see. And so it was for me with Myanmar.

I thought I needed to go to this Asian country formerly known as Burma before the Chinese builders decimated any remaining “authentic” local character by rapidly tossing up bland, soulless construction projects to meet the surge in tourism. I thought Myanmar lacked the supermodel good looks of the California coast or the scenic gravitas of the Swiss Alps, but the chance to witness an intact culture before its inevitable full and tragic transition to all things Western, would provide worthwhile balance. Once I decided to go, suddenly I was in a rush to get there before it was “ruined,” but then wondered if backpackers had already beaten a well-worn and contrived tourist path from Yangon to Inle Lake to Mandalay to Bagan to Ngapali Beach. Would I need to protect my camera from the incessant dust? Bring antibiotics and medicine for the inevitable case of food poisoning? Expect to have flights canceled, and never have a moment of relaxation (was this a vacation or an expedition?) because it was a rapidly developing country straining against crumbling infrastructure?

Because so few mainstream travel magazine writers have seen or reported on the interior of the country other than to give a history lesson followed by a call to action of “get there now!” (because readers, apparently, prefer reports on Provence or Tuscany), the general body of information presented on Myanmar was a jumble of confusing warnings and hard-gleaned insights from consumer trip reports published on traveler message boards like those hosted on Fodors.com.

I planned the two-week trip myself. It took several months. I read every blog, book, article, and travel agent site available to nail down my itinerary. I was traveling over Christmas and New Years. Heeding warnings (again!) about stiff competition, lack of rooms around the holidays, and high seasonal tariffs spurred me to book everything 10 months in advance. The only time I used a travel agent was for the flights on Air KBZ (zero delays or cancellations). But by the time I landed on the ground in December 2015/January 2016, flights had become widely available for booking online. I used Agoda.com for a few hotels, others I booked directly. More than ever, Myanmar is accessible to the independent traveler.

What did I find when I arrived? An unexpectedly beautiful and serene beach, on par with Thailand , nestled along the Andaman Sea. I started the trip in Ngapali to decompress from the long flight and connection through Beijing. It was the right choice.

Ngapali Beach and The Bayview Hotel. (Photo by Lauren Mowery)

I also encountered calm and chaos. Subtle beauty and ugly trash. Kindness, grace, humility, and honesty from a people too long subjected to a ruthless regime. A religious culture maintained for a millennium. Food traditions worthy of a New York restaurant but preferably enjoyed in situ. Meticulously hand-crafted textiles and lacquerware by artisans preserving a priceless tradition that anywhere else, would be outsourced cheaply to China and sold to naive tourists. Yangon’s crumbling colonial buildings that anywhere else, might be preserved for their architectural value, but in Myanmar were neglected for their reminder of England’s horrific rule. I found a wine industry! And a nascent but promising coffee region in Shan State. I encountered hypocrisy and open-mindedness. The most perfect, balmy, better-than-California weather, but only in December and January. (I heard it is unbearably hot at other times of the year.) I saw the brutality of necessity implicit in a poor, agrarian existence. I felt peace and awe and discovered my own humility and acknowledged my own privilege. I found happy, laughing, playful children.

I am not going to write a story about Myanmar or tell you about invaders, kings, the English, the junta, the great lunch I had or the fancy new hotel in Yangon. But I will tell you that I loved Myanmar. The country and people challenged my misconceptions and made me observe and think in that enjoyably profound way that pushes real travelers – not tourists – to continue to explore.

So, if I am not writing a story, then I am not going to tell you why you need to go to Myanmar. But I am going to show you what my journey looked like (slideshow above), and hopefully, the impressions you form will be positive enough to encourage you to go and make new ones. In person.

Sunrise Over Bagan. (Photo by Lauren Mowery)