The Maung family is rebuilding their lives in a foreign land. A freshly painted signboard with a play on the word
Revolution declares their small restaurant is open for business, and breakfast features traditional Myanmar
mohinga—rice noodles and fish soup.
Rangoon Nights is rocking. The bar is on its feet and the cocktail shaker is shaking in abandon as the band
Born In Burma starts pumping out its beat.
Except we’re not in Rangoon or Burma (officially called Myanmar), but in the northern Thai town of Chiangmai which has evolved into a hub for activists, fugitives, and those taking a break from the war tearing their country apart.
The news travelled like wildfire. In the teashops, bars, and market stalls that make Thailand’s border town of Mae Sot feel far more Burmese than Thai, the feared rumours circulating at the weekend were suddenly confirmed.
Military conscription would be imposed on young men and women for two to five years, regime-controlled broadcasters in Myanmar announced on the Saturday night airwaves. Details were sparse.
Landing in Rangoon nearly 100 years ago, a young Chilean poet described “a city of blood, dreams, and gold” with “leprous streets”. The flourishing capital of then British-ruled Burma and its major port were a must-see staging post on an Asian tour.