Services

Fanfare at the Green Elephant

The Ayeyarwady River at Bagan

I spent a morning among the temples of kings, exploring one of the world's great architectural
wonders, the ancient city of Bagan in Myanmar. Our guide Thant Zin had scripted a day jam-packed
with tourist-appropriate activities for first-timers in Myanmar. His government-approved itinerary
routed us up, around, and through the more noteworthy of the thousands of temples, shrines and
pagodas in Bagan's 16-square-mile archaeological zone. We would miss little of aesthetic or
historic importance on Thant Zin's watch. By midday, we had climbed and skittered and
photographed our way through a lacquerware factory and five massive temples. We were sticking
to our schedule, and Thant Zin was proud as a Cub Scout troup leader that we had earned our
badges by completing the morning's sightseeing. It was, after all, a goverment- approved agenda,
and we would not be shortchanged.

Four hours into the day, I was covered in a vile paste of sunscreen and dust. Rivulets of sweat ran
from under my wide-brimmed straw hat, down my neck, connecting with below-the-breast
tributaries and settling somewhere along the latitude of my navel. It was hot. We were tired. Thant
Zin was determined. Luck was with us, however, and it was lunchtime.

We crunched along a gravel driveway that led to the Green Elephant, a lovely garden restaurant with
a commanding view of the Ayeyarwady River far below.

The maitre’d welcomed us with a broad smile and a quick bow. He barked, and a battalion of service
personnel appeared to escort us out across the well-tended grass lawn to a white-clothed table
along the river bluff. Two men pulled out chairs, and snapped white cloth napkins onto our laps. Two
more scurried to place a standing umbrella over a corner of our table not shaded by mature acacia
trees. Another presented menus, another poured water.

Then, two appeared with woven palm fans and commenced fanning.

Had I been lunching with King Anawrahta in the 11th century, nibbling over his plans to build
Shwezigon Pagoda to house Buddha's collarbone, I might have expected this.

Or, at table with his zealous successor, King Kyanzittha, who, by the dawn of the 12th century, had
built hundreds of Bagan's 13,000 monuments, I may not have taken particular notice...continued
(1116 words).

The traditional native market in San Cristobal de Las Casas spreads over four square blocks –
an exotic assault on all the senses. The sweet scent of pineapple mixes with the more
sophisticated aroma of freesias and roses. Close by are mounds of dried pink shrimp and
dozens of varieties of red, yellow, green and lavender peppers.

An elderly lady, brightly attired in a costume of red, purple, and fuchsia that identifies her as a
native of the nearby village of Zinacantan, shells calico-colored beans and displays them next to
dewy bouquets of rosemary, lemongrass, and epazote; an outraged turkey is led by a string
through bustling aisles of early morning shoppers loaded with baskets of cauliflowers, calla
lilies, mangoes, and potatoes no larger than the end of your finger.

But we are here in Chiapas, Mexico’s southernmost state, in search of the Mayan truffle,
huitlacoche, or ustilago maydis to the erudite botanist. Huitlacoche is a fungus which grows on
corn, and here in this market at the end of the rainy season, ripened corn is sold along with its
companion. Interestingly, the parasite brings ten times as much as its host.

Ustilago maydis is a corn smut, one of over a thousand species that live on flowering plants. The
fungus usually attacks only a portion of the ear of corn, making its kernels swell to ten times
normal size. These large silver-grey kernels cover a deep, inky-black flesh.

Huitlacoche is, for all practical purposes, a wild mushroom and brings the same rich, earthy
flavor to any dish in which it is included...continued, with recipes (512 words).

A first-time visitor to Burma’s gateway city of Rangoon, or Yangon as the current government
labels it, is often startled by the legions of women who appear to be in white-face – at the airport,
behind the desk at the hotel, and in restaurants.

Is it a political protest? Is it the eastern equivalent of a social gaffe, like appearing on the street
in giant pink hair curlers? Worse yet, is it a medicinal response to a dermatological epidemic?

Have no fear, face painting with thanakha is a charming custom that has survived for centuries
in present day Myanmar and is favored by young and old, urban and rural.

Thanakha is used as a cosmetic, sunscreen, and is said to have medicinal properties that
maintain youthful, clear skin. Lovely complexions throughout the country are certainly
testimonials to its efficacy.

You’ll see women working in the fields with thick applications of thanakha used for sunscreen.
In the cities, it is often artfully applied in fanciful designs or geometric patterns. Usually, you’ll
find the naturally beige paste has been given a golden tint. This is derived from a sweet-smelling
flower pollen and is said to harken back to the reign of early monarchs when Burmese
princesses had gold dust added to their thanakha compounds...continued (452 words)

In Pursuit of the Mayan Truffle

Huitlacoche,and its host,corn from the Mexican highlands.

Detail in the upper left corner: a medallion of the Emperor
Diocletian from his palace at Split, Croatia

Saving Face in Myanmar

Amber...Forever

High in the mountains of the Mexican state of Chiapas, at the very end of a pocked and rutted
road, lies the pueblo of Simojovel. From here men climb the slopes of the mountain to burrow
into tunnels barely wider than their own bodies.

Working shirtless, barefoot, and often with the light of a single candle, they dig for dull nuggets of
prehistoric tree resin – amber, the gift of the Mayan gods.

Assyrian writings of the tenth century B.C. and objects taken from fifth century B.C. Celtic tombs
indicate amber was highly prized in the Old World.

The fossilized resin was also an important trade item in the Mayan empire and scribes of the
Spanish conquistadors tell of the Aztec emperor, Moctezuma, stirring his chocolate with an
amber spoon. Even today, amber amulets are placed on the arms of newborns in Mexico to
assure them of spiritual protection.

Unlike Baltic amber, which is usually crazed and opaque, Mexican amber is brilliantly translucent
in shades of honey, cognac, burgundy red, and even a rare bottle green. It may be perfectly clear
or preserve bits of ferns or other fauna.

Of course, the most sought-after specimens contain insects: ants, moths, termites and others
trapped twenty million years ago in the sticky sap of mammoth trees.

Mining cooperatives in the Mexican highlands market the amber in its natural state, in polished
nuggets, or as cut and shaped stones...continued (500 words)

Burmese mothers and children at Lake
Inle, Myanmar

Travel Writing