No Exit

The bus from Yangon to Naypyidaw, along Myanmar’s best road, passes no village larger than about 100 households. It takes more than five hours to reach this newish capital city in the jungle, but my ticket on this VIP coach costs only 9,000 kyat, or just under ten bucks. (Even that small amount is the foreigner price. The printed receipt said 7,000. When I inquire, the agent simply smiles and draws a new number on the receipt with her pen.)

Nearly every structure along the way is built of bamboo and thatch, except for the occasional temple or shrine on a hilltop. Soldiers are posted randomly the whole length of the divided highway, presumably to be sure nobody leaves the road. Which wouldn’t be too easy to do even if there were a town to turn towards, as there are no off-ramps. Small roadside markers designate the distance traveled, measured in tenths of a mile. (Myanmar is one of only four countries that still put miles on their road signs, rather than kilometers. The other three are Liberia, the United Kingdom, and the United States.)

There is no trash, no petrol, and no commerce of any kind, except for a large rest area at roughly the halfway point, where travelers can fuel up and have a meal. The parking lot outside the sprinkling of restaurants is surrounded by a semi-circle of 19 billboards, virtually the only advertising signage along the entire highway. Five of the ads promote construction supplies; three tout colas (Pepsi, Star, and Sunkist). All are in English.

Eventually a toll booth and a large archway loom up, proclaiming the first true highway exit since leaving Yangon. We have arrived at what the government calls “the center of nation-building activities.” Built from scratch in the midst of rice and sugar-cane fields between 2002–2005, Naypyidaw managed to remain a secret, even from many of its neighbors. Now, the city almost goes as far as to welcome visitors, showcasing itself this past week as host of the South Asia World Economic Forum, and later this year, the Southeast Asian Games.

Suddenly, the skeleton of an urban metropolis makes an appearance. Bamboo and thatch give way to brick and cement, golden temples are replaced by pastel housing developments. None of the buildings has the communal feel found in the rest of the country. The bus rumbles past the Capital Hypermarket and the Junction Center Mall, both of which look strangely empty. I get down at the station. Motorcycle taxi drivers offer to take me to my hotel for 7,000 kyat. What a long, strange trip it’s been.