Big Headed Bills

My dad seemed to think this piece of trivia was worth a post.

When traveling in Africa and parts of Asia, there are a fair number of countries where ATMs either don't exist or aren't reliable and credit cards aren't really a thing either. Enter large sums of cash (I don't even want to hear about travelers checks-- if they still exist, they shouldn't). Sometimes for business trips I have to reimburse people, pay hotel rooms, and even purchase internal flights entirely in cash.

So the thing is, not just any cash will do. In order to be able to change dollars into local currency in banks, at hotels, or even on the black market (how are they allowed to be picky?) the dollars have to have big heads. They have the be the post 1996 bills with the giant presidents' heads in the center. They also cannot have any marks on them, any notable creases, or look like more than 2 people have every touched them. Pristine, mint-condition (literally) bills are the only form of currency in these situations. So I'm the jerk at the bank who asked to withdraw 4000 dollars in cash, and then picks through every one of the bills to check for big heads and then asks for new ones anytime I find those stinking little heads. I try to alternate banks so they don't hate me too violently.

And yes it is terrifying walking around with lots of cash (I pretty much sprint home from the bank, hyper aware of everything in my peripheral vision).


UPDATE: Apparently head-size is insufficient. I was just told at the money changer that I would get a better rate if the big-headed bills were post-2006.

Disco Buddha

Given the thousands and thousands of people at the Shwedagon Pagoda on Buddhist Lent, despite our height advantage, there was the very real possibility that my colleague and I might get separated and never find each other again. My Frye training compelled me to designate an emergency meeting spot and clearly I selected what I like to call "The Disco Buddhas".

Buddhist Lent

This is not the first time that I have meticulously planned a business trip only to learn after arrival that a public holiday falls during my brief stay. Now I'm not dumb, I have every holiday I can think of for the countries I visit entered into my Outlook calendar (Malian Independence Day? Ethiopian New Year?). This helps with scheduling trips, understanding why colleagues are unresponsive, and getting brownie point by sending a holiday greeting. However Lunar Holidays always evade me! 

During my trip to Myanmar, the moon was such that Buddhist Lent fell during our trip. It ended up being fine- we had no meetings previously scheduled, so tourism day it was.

We took advantage of a full hour of sunlight and went to visit the Shwedagon Pagoda. If you're going to visit a giant pagoda, you might as well do it on the same day that the entire country is visiting. 

Navigating the pagoda made me think of swimming in a school of fish. Turning to the left or right wasn't something you got to decide to do on your own, you had to hope for an opportunity. Cutting across the rows of people entailed a fair amount of swimming upstream and then waiting for your chance, crossing, and then swimming back.

Even more fun was that there were almost no tourists. We were swimming in a sea of Burmese grandmas, babies, and entire families on a picnic. 

Where's Laura?

Monsoon Rains

The hours of sunlight I experienced during my one week visit to Myanmar total 3. I am entirely confident in this number because my jetlag was such that I woke up before the sun was presumably rising and fell asleep after it had presumably set. However, I never saw a sunrise or a sunset through the dark monsoon rain clouds.

This was a little disappointing because the big thing to see in Yangon is the Shwedagon Pagoda which apparently is beautiful at sunset. So we waited for a day when there was a sunset to see it, and such a day never arrived (we went on our last day instead).

Every time I left the hotel, I was handed an umbrella. I think there was someone employed by the hotel whose only job was to hand out umbrellas to everyone. I brought a rain coat but it was so humid I couldn't imagine putting anything long sleeved on. So umbrellas it was- everywhere.

The nice thing about a rainy rainy place, is that foot fashion just cannot matter. Everyone must wear flip flops at all times- that is simply the only reasonable option. You are constantly stepping in mud and puddles- so you step in mud and your feet get gross, and then you step in a puddle and they're clean again. No squeaky wet shoes- boots would be filled with sweat moments after putting them on- so flip flops it is.

According to my colleagues, it rains for about 5 months of the year- and the rain is particularly heavy for two months (July-August). Sometimes colleagues in monsoon climates ask me when it rains in the US and I never have an adequate answer. I guess according to poem there are showers in Aprils that bring flowers in May (and then Pilgrims!) but by no stretch of the imagination could we call April a rainy season. It rains in a totally unpredictable fashion in the US. Sometimes I try to explain "maybe it rains on Monday and Thursday but not any other day that week" and that usually doesn't work, and then I try "you have to watch the weather channel every morning to know if it's going to rain or not". Again, not a ton of success. One nice thing about the monsoon rains in Myanmar is that you never have to wonder- it will most certainly rain multiple times every day.

I think that in rainy places, people are much more aware of the skies. It is entirely possible that I am abnormally oblivious to my environment but I almost never know when it's going to rain. However, people in Myanmar seem to get some sort of signal for a five minute warning. Change in wind? Pressure shift? Sky color? I don't know what it is but you really don't see people "caught in the rain without an umbrella".

There was a pool boy at my hotel- and as far as I could tell, his job consisted of sweeping the pool deck and then putting out and removing the lounge chair cushions 100 times a day. If there was a small period of no rain, the cushions all went out, and then magically, 30 seconds before the rain began to fall again, he would put them all back. I started taking my cues for impending downpours from him.

Rain Rain Go Away
Come Again Another Day (season)
(Not so) Little Laura Wants To Play (or just walk in dry shoes)
Rain Rain Go Away

No Motorcycles

Rumor has it that once upon a time a high-ranking official in Yangon was hit by a motorcycle and subsequently outlawed them. Another rumor contends that in a fit of paranoia regarding the ease of attack on caravans via motorcycles, the government outlawed them.  Which ever, if any, is true- one thing is for sure, there are no motorcycles in Yangon.

This may not seem so weird in the US where there are so few motorcycles anyway (possibly owing to our climate and relative wealth). But elsewhere in the developing world, motorcycles are ubiquitous.

I love a motorcycle free city! The pollution seems noticeably less, I don't have to contend with motorcycle taxis for transit (scary!), I don't have to see accidents nearly every day, and it feels safer to cross the street when people aren't zipping between lanes and around vehicles. I could get used to this lovely, if weird, policy.