Burmese Daze: Should We Boycott or Go?

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Travel used to be about fun, freedom, feeling good. The point was to get away, unwind. Bugs and sunburns were the main holiday worry. Now it's the footprints you leave behind.

Case in point: Burma, or Myanmar, the indigenous name used by the generals who annulled democratic elections a decade ago. Repressive and corrupt, the junta has managed to avoid blanket sanctions by the West. But campaigners are demanding a travel boycott, taking their lead from Nobel Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi whose National League for Democracy won the 1990 vote. She maintains that tourist dollars prop up the regime. Another deterrent: International Labor Organization reports say forced labor was used on tourist projects.

Opponents of the boycott, which include guide publisher Lonely Planet (now also a target of activists for its stance), argue that since state control of the industry loosened, visitors hand money directly to tens of thousands of ordinary Burmese who depend on it. Since when, they add, was isolation good for human rights? Think North Korea. And when did any leader, even such a beacon of resistance as Aung San Suu Kyi, speak for an entire party or people? The nld is split on the issue. The Burmese, who extend Southeast Asia's warmest welcome to tourists, are clearly happy to see them, not soldiers, on the streets. Some tourism supporters accuse boycott advocates of cynically trying to stir up unrest by depressing incomes.

Asian travel agents have long touted cheap tours to the country. And arrivals from Japan, Singapore, Taiwan and Hong Kong are increasing. In Europe, where boycott talk is fiercest, agents in Italy, France and Germany sell Burma on the sly. Only 160,000 foreigners make the trip annually. Operators are now going on the offensive, trumpeting tourism to a cradle of Southeast Asian culture as the best way to benefit the long-suffering Burmese.

So what are they selling? Burma is the Land of the Golden Pagodas, where every man is expected to serve in a Buddhist monastery twice in his life, as novice and ordained monk. One of Asia's great temple cities, 800-year-old Pagan (see Detour), lies alongside the great Irrawaddy River in the central west. Upriver is the cultural capital Mandalay, in the east stunning Inle Lake offers towns on stilts and floating island farms, and peerless beaches fringe the Bay of Bengal and countless Andaman Sea islands.

A leading attraction is Rangoon (Yangon). Giant stupas sparkling in the sun have captivated newcomers for centuries. The mesmeric gilded domes of Sule and Shwedagon pagodas tower above the capital. Dawn and dusk walks, past hundreds of kneeling devotees as plumes of incense waft over their prayers, are unforgettable.

Not much else has changed. Wide streets curve around British colonial mansions. Bogyoke Market (great handicrafts, particularly lacquerware) sits beside animposing Victorian rail station. Downtown is filled with Italianate architecture covered in tropical mold. Near Trader's Hotel, cinemas have been allowed to reopen, offering plush 1950s-style seating and the latest releases from Hollywood for the period price of 25 cents.

Food and lodging are cheap. Low tourist traffic means rooms at upmarket lodges like Trader's go for $50. True luxury such as at the Pansea outside town and the Strand (see Hot Spot) costs more. The Three Seasons ($15) is legendary for owner Mie Mie's helpfulness and invigorating curry breakfasts, but backpackers can find cheaper. In a Burmese restaurant, expect to pay $1-5 for a spread that includes curry, pickled tea, fried vegetables and rice. Try the Green Elephant toward the airport. The 50th Street Bar and Grill, a wood and rattan showpiece, also has delicious fusion fare ($6-10).

"This is Burma, and it will be quite unlike any land you know about," wrote Rudyard Kipling in 1898. More than a century on, Burma's lure endures: only the individual can decide whether or not to succumb.