MYANMAR: Shwedagon and other payas

The Shwedagon Paya is the most sacred Buddhist site in Yangon and it was gorgeous. Our guide told us that all Myanmar buddhists hope to visit at least once in their lifetime. 

It was very quiet as we walked around except for the sound of tinkling gold bells and your bare feet slapping the rain soaked floor. The whole place smelled like incense and ginger lilies. 

We hired our guide at the entrance clad in longyi and white shirt. He is a professor of Archaeology at the university and does tours on the weekend for extra income. 

He told us stories of the British, pointed out thousands of diamonds on the stupa, taught us about the Buddha and spoke with sadness about the political history of his country. 

He taught us about the 8 shrines surrounding the stupa. One for each day. You pray at the one when you were born. You can place your flower offerings, wash the Buddha with holy water, light your candle and pray. 

The stupas started shining as the sun set.

This is me at my Thursday shrine. 

Dr. Soe reminded us that for Myanmar people, Buddha was a real person so they don't pray to the Buddha. You wish on Buddha, but the work is your own. On his hands and knees he bowed to the Buddha 5 times to show respect for his parents, his teachers, Buddha, Buddha's teachings and himself. 5 points touching the ground - hands, feet and forehead.  

Alms beads. 

Kristie's husband, Patrick, lived in Yangon when he was a boy. He remembered the entry stairs to the pagoda the best. How they smelled, how they looked and how it made him feel. In the 80s it was much different than today. Today, the stairs were clean and beautiful and had shops selling offerings and souvenirs all along the way. 

The Shwedagon at night from our hotel. 

We also visited the Chaukhtatgyi Buddha and the Nga Htat Gy pagoda. I didn't have any pictures of at Nga Htat Gy, poor lighting and a foggy lens are not my friends. At Nga Htat Gy was a huge sitting Buddha and a peaceful atmosphere with lots of local Burmese people despite the weather. 

At Chaukhtatgyi we listened to the stories gilded into the bottom of his feet and how to be a good Buddhist while the rain pounded loudly on the tin roof.