S. and I have just returned from traveling in Burma, now Myanmar, for the last ten days or so, and while recollections are still fresh, I hope to give you some of my observations about a country that has only recently opened to foreigners after fifty years of seclusion.  This first piece deals with an aspect of their culture that is central to their life style and my inability to adapt it to my own use.

The longyi (pronounced lawn-gee) is the foundation of the national costume of Burma. Roughly described it is a piece of cloth three and a half feet by six feet with the ends sewn together to form a wide tube. It is the same for men and women except for the color and design of the fabric. The women, of course, get the more colorfully designed pieces and the men are stuck with  muted colors and very simple design.

During a slow time on our recent river cruise on the Irrawaddy we were offered a lecture and demonstration of the purpose and uses of the longyi…of which, as it turns out, there are many. I should say now that it was rare to see a man or woman in the rural areas who was not wearing the aforementioned item, but its use in urban centers, Yangon for example, is diminishing in favor of denim trousers for men and skirts for women. I’d have to say though that they would be well served to stay with traditional garb.

In addition to providing the bottom half of one’s daily attire, it is used for a broad array of functional activities including, if folded properly, a base for carrying baskets or other items on one’s head, a cradle for carrying the wee ones, a privacy curtain for doing one’s business when there are no other facilities available, a laundry bag, a picnic blanket, a table cloth, and many others that I can’t remember. They also wear them as a cover up when bathing in the river. More about bathing in the river in a later piece. It is used one and all by girls, women, boys, men, old and young alike. And they are cheap. The ones I saw in the market were two to four thousand Kyat, (pronounced chat) which in real money is around three bucks. When they are too tatty to be useful as personal attire, our guide said they are cut up in used as rags.

All of this would have been interesting, but not rise to the level of a separate posting, except that the overly clever social director of our cruise had decided it would be “fun” to have a longyi cocktail party wherein all of the guests and staff would wear a longyi. Ok, I know this is pretty hokey, but it’s the kind of thing you do when there are a bunch of 60 + year olds thrown together, too much time to kill, and free booze.

As we were dressing for the event, S. threw hers on as if she had been wearing one her entire life. You may say it should be easy. Just step into the tube and tie it, or pin it up. Trust me, it doesn’t work that way. S. and I struggled for fifteen minutes trying various strategies to get my longyi to stay in place. There is a technique that we had been shown, and I looked it up on You Tube as well, proving once again that you can find anything on the internet. Alas, nothing worked. Several knots we tried would attach it to my misshapen body for a moment, but it would quickly start to slide. We gave up, and I sought professional help from the young Burmese men at the front desk which was right around the corner from our room. One, two and then three tried to dress me in the longyi to no avail. At one time there were no less than four young men in a huddle around me tugging and pulling in various ways to make the dratted thing stay in place. We finally reached an accommodation which seemed to work with the longyi pulled up to chest level and the corners tied in a kind of square knot.

I called out to S. and we proceeded up two flight of stairs to the party. Alas, on the second flight, I stepped on the floor end of the longyi, and it all came a cropper. It dropped to my ankles exposing a colorful pair of jockeys I was now wearing for the second day. I grabbed quickly and clutched it up to protect my nether regions and hid behind the bar until I could get the attention of Win Myuint, the most senior of the guides and the one who had promoted this party. He smiled broadly at my predicament and announced with authority that my mistake was trying to go over when I should have gone under, my belly. With proper placement, below my belly and above my hips, and a few sure tugs I was at last presentable and proceeded to abate my shame with a few G and T’s.

So you see the life of a traveler in foreign climes is not as easy as it might seem.

More later.