Maybe I lack the imagination to make the city's history come to life. Its symmetry and grand boulevards leave me indifferent. The fabulous museums, the iconic metro signs, the triumphant arcs that stand guard on every roundabout, are like the distinctive traits of a woman that is altogether too beautiful to approach. Better to appreciate them from a distance and save myself the embarrassment of rejection.
Yangon, on the other hand, steps right up and lets me smell its armpits. The former capital of Myanmar is poor, dirty and always recovering from some major natural or man-made disaster. Yet at the same time it's one of the most romantic places I've ever been to.
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| Telephone cabin Yangon-style (credit It says tourist) |
