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    Photos from Myanmar

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    Almost every burmese would have lived in a monastery in their life time: by sierra-hope, Views[354]
         		 Their love is seen in beautiful Bagan, of shrines and pagodas: by sierra-hope, Views[309]
         		 A country of devotees : by sierra-hope, Views[337]
         		 Mandalay, a long walk from the village out: by sierra-hope, Views[327]
         		 We stop in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. Ticket inspector Htin Kyow tells me that we will depart again in “one hour”. I wander away from the platform, only to be suddenly grabbed by the arm; a man points to our train slowly rolling out of the station. Bolting across the tracks and jumping aboard, I spot Htin Kyow laughing whilst clipping tickets. He taps on his watch: “One hour!”. The dial shows exactly 1pm.: by annemoff, Views[613]
     
    Bright blue and green paintwork snakes around the tracks, cracked from use and weather. If the train is moving slow enough to disembark between stations, passengers throw bags and packages from doors and leap from carriages before fading into the distance. The best way to gauge the cause of an unexpected stoppage is to stick your head out the window.: by annemoff, Views[614]
         		 The carriages are filled with vendors peddling their wares: bananas, newspapers, tobacco, smoked fish, chicken and quail eggs, lurid melting icy poles in clouded plastic bags. As the train approaches each station, more traders run along the platform. Before the train has stopped they mount the steps with dexterity and begin singing and shouting at anyone who will listen.: by annemoff, Views[823]
         		 The Yangon Circular Railway takes three hours to loop around the city. It’s a muggy 30-degree day when I purchase my ticket, and an attendant excitedly tells me that the carriages are “air-conditioned”. I find out later that this is in the form of open windows and spluttering, tired roof fans that do nothing more than add to the cacophony. A policeman half-heartedly taps one of the fans with his baton each time it drifts to a halt.: by annemoff, Views[699]
         		 Pre-dawn at Yangon Central Station, the air is still cool and fresh. Bodies lurk on the platforms each morning, waiting for the first train to depart at 6:10am. Services run both clockwise and anticlockwise roughly once every hour, with the last at 5:10pm.: by annemoff, Views[866]
         		 A visit to a monastery can give you an opportunity to see how monks live their daily life, which consists heavily of eat, study and pray. But linger a little longer, and you may be lucky to catch a glimpse of their playful antics as well… monks may be monks… but boys will always be boys! : by georgemac, Views[303]
     
    He who helps push start a car, may be left behind in a plume of smoke.: by georgemac, Views[320]
         		 The rainy season is known for its heavy downpours, but not enough to perturb these two women from getting to their destination with their groceries.: by georgemac, Views[325]
         		 Train stations along the circle line of Yangon are key to the community, both for business, and socially. Locals at every station can be seen selling goods, on, near and between the train tracks.: by georgemac, Views[419]
         		 Travelling on the local slow train around Yangon is a great chance to mingle with the locals. The genuine smiles and interactions with all Myanmar people warms my heart.: by georgemac, Views[401]
         		 Laughing kids with tools: by fwebeks, Views[299]
     
    Stonecutter: by fwebeks, Views[341]
         		 Good big brother: by fwebeks, Views[369]
         		 Sports time: by fwebeks, Views[329]
         		 Happy young monks: by fwebeks, Views[279]
         		 by ksenia, Views[270]
     
    by ksenia, Views[297]
         		 by ksenia, Views[304]
         		 by ksenia, Views[286]
         		 by ksenia, Views[291]
         		 Thanaka on cheeks, noses and foreheads is a distinctive feature of the Burmese.: by marielle, Views[311]
     
    Amidst the humid weather, the baby sleeps soundly in her mother's arms.: by marielle, Views[254]
         		 In a run-down colonial building, she's making a living.: by marielle, Views[263]
         		 A regular chore in their regular longyi, a sarong-like garment for Burmese men. : by marielle, Views[493]
         		 Female monks walking around the Shwedagon Pagoda were clad in pink robes.: by marielle, Views[306]
         		 Hlainaing feel the key to success is study and work hard. : by nerriza, Views[877]
     
    Kkainhlu is a proud shop owner and happy not to be farming any more.: by nerriza, Views[926]
         		 Hung smiling as she tells me she's the most popular in the village.: by nerriza, Views[884]
         		 Lingkhui weaving the traditional clothing of the Ngagah tribe.: by nerriza, Views[913]
         		 Thangsheng inbetween puffs talks about life as the towns local wine supplier. : by nerriza, Views[890]
         		 Tropical mosque, over shadowed by the old Moulmein pagoda : by william_obrian, Views[377]
     
    Bagan’s locals : by william_obrian, Views[264]
         		 Fishing boat repairs in the Yangon river: by william_obrian, Views[301]
         		 The Hellish night train, on the rail to Mandalay: by william_obrian, Views[275]
         		 Rangoon, a city full of fading colonial grandeur, and stifling heat.: by william_obrian, Views[268]
         		 by marwanee, Views[317]
     
    by marwanee, Views[422]
         		 City Market in Yangon: by lucantonelli, Views[309]
         		 Fisherman on Inle Lake: by lucantonelli, Views[264]
         		 nun praying: by lucantonelli, Views[242]
         		 harbour on the River Ayeyardwady: by lucantonelli, Views[293]
     
    child on the Jumping Cat Monastery : by lucantonelli, Views[247]
         		 Days after the festival, I often spotted groups of young novices around the towns and villages of the Shan. I found one young boy, clearly not adapting too well to Buddhist teachings, shooting pellets his fellow novices with a plastic gun. The boys are often seen running along railway tracks or playing football in empty fields, their red robes already tattered at the edges. But the nuns always remain a calmness and a discipline about them. This was taken in the Pyin Oo Lwin market. The line of young girls seeped in and out of the vegetable stalls, accepting alms from market stall owners. Dusty pink robed and bare foot, looking confident in their new identity just days after it was given to them. : by annapurnauna, Views[477]
         		 As the parade draws to an end, tired faces cover the crowds. But the anticipation of the novices never resides. They only grow more nervous, as they glance from their thrones to the surrounding children. As they enter the monastery, their heads are shaved, their jewels stripped, and they are given traditional robes to wear. Tibetan red for boys, and honey pink for girls. They become almost unrecognisable to their families, and with their innocent eyes clutching memories from home, they begin to pray, to collect alms and to work in the monastery.: by annapurnauna, Views[491]
         		 After the feasting, the child parading and buckets of tea drinking, sunset brings the villages to the local monastery. Built with local teak wood, it's brown façade is fading, but beautifully and elegantly. The inside creeks with every footstep of my heavy trekking boots. But the barefoot monks pass without a sound. As gentle as their faces, they follow me to an upstairs window. Below sees a parade of novices, local children in their best jewels, on hired horses, and surrounded by uncles and cousins playing sheep skin drums. The spectacle seems too brash for the simplicity of the Buddha's way, but it's only for a day. Tomorrow the children will learn serenity, and how to walk with silent feet through the teak monasteries.: by annapurnauna, Views[571]
         		 Her eyes tell the story. The awakening fear of the unknown. Her head is adorned in jewels, and the photographer before her shoots flashes at her and her towering siblings. But she cannot relax. Feverishly she bows her head and dreams of the year before, running through rice paddies and chasing after the newborn goats. Passing marbles to her friends, shouting after trekking tourists and remembering nights sat in the shadow of her mothers warmth. It would not be the same, this summer. The next day, her head would be shaved and she would enter the nunnery for several months. : by annapurnauna, Views[446]
     
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