Our destination this time: Yangon, Myanmar. Following the birth of a new government in 2011, this nation, long under military rule, was embarking on a path toward democratization. Yangon, its largest city, stood at the heart of this transition. News reports showed democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi traveling freely abroad, signaling a profound shift. Yet, the reality on the ground remained elusive. Myanmar, I realized, had long been one of Southeast Asia’s most information-scarce areas in the aviation and travel markets. Anticipating rapid expansion and opening, I decided it was time for some on-the-ground research.
My history with Myanmar included a bitter memory. Years ago, hearing about a visa-on-arrival, I traveled to a land border crossing, only to be told, “Issuance stopped today.” Entry denied. More than frustration, I felt anger and fear at how arbitrarily foreigners’ entry and exit seemed controlled. According to the Myanmar Embassy’s website, the visa-on-arrival program technically still existed, but haunted by that past experience, I opted to secure my visa beforehand at the embassy in Tokyo. Given the nature of my trip—journalistic research—I approached the embassy with some trepidation. However, the embassy, nestled in a quiet residential area of Shinagawa, had a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere. Young women and elderly individuals, likely planning personal trips, were applying for tourist visas in droves. It was honestly a bit anticlimactic. My own visa was issued without issue a few days later. Could it be? Had Myanmar already become… normal?
Next came the itinerary. No direct flights exist between Japan and Myanmar. Research confirmed that transiting through neighboring Bangkok, Thailand, was the standard route. Indeed, the low-cost carrier giant, AirAsia (Thailand), operated two round trips daily. A nagging thought arose: perhaps Myanmar was already a major tourist destination, or developing just like other Southeast Asian metropolises, unbeknownst to the average Japanese traveler? Further investigation revealed that Myanmar Airways International (MAI) had launched a Yangon-Guangzhou, China route in March of that year—its longest. I make it a point to fly the national or regional carriers of my destinations whenever possible. It heightens the anticipation from the moment I board, and the cabin atmosphere and interactions with the crew often yield valuable insights. So, I decided to fly MAI. Since a same-day connection from Narita to Guangzhou wasn’t feasible, I planned a route starting from Haneda to Hong Kong, then taking a train and subway to Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport. A rather particular itinerary, I admit. As railway enthusiasts know, the high-speed rail between Hong Kong and Guangzhou is highly efficient and reliable, easily navigable even with passport control. While a few hours’ transit in Bangkok might seem comparable, the journey by rail offers its own unique pleasures.
Let’s move on. Arriving at Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport, I was struck by its sheer scale. It’s Southern China’s largest aviation hub, rivaling Beijing and Shanghai. Tucked away in a corner of this massive airport sat MAI’s Airbus A320. Boarding the aircraft, I noted its well-used condition, yet the overall impression was one of a commercial airline focused on service. MAI, after all, descends from the former state-owned Myanmar Airways, notorious for its poor punctuality, service, and safety record. Now, however, it operates as a fully private airline, expanding its international network and reportedly aiming for future membership in a global alliance. Its prominence seemed poised to grow alongside Myanmar’s democratization, economic development, and the full liberalization of travel.
About four hours later, we touched down at Yangon International Airport. I was astonished by the terminal building’s size and sleek design. Having pictured a minor airport in a long-closed-off country, its brightness and modern functional beauty left me wide-eyed. The atmosphere felt like the newest terminal at a European airport. Proceeding through the arrivals lobby brought another surprise: the immigration hall allowed arriving passengers and the general public waiting outside to see each other through glass partitions. Utterly open. Had I ever encountered an immigration area this transparent? Watching the smiling officers, my travel excitement surged, fueled by this string of unexpected encounters right upon arrival, a mix of pleasant confusion and delight.
The typical tasks in an arrival lobby are currency exchange and arranging transport into the city. However, my guidebook warned that in Myanmar, the local currency, the Kyat (MMK), could only be exchanged from US dollars, and airport exchange rates were notoriously poor. Carrying some US dollars, I decided to head straight for a taxi. The fare to the city center was 9,000 Kyat, but I was quoted $11 USD. As I went to pay, the woman at the dispatch counter and the driver both pleaded for “crisp bills.” Their eyes held genuine urgency; this wasn’t some new scam. I later learned that due to Myanmar’s limited diplomatic relations with countries settling transactions in dollars, its banks physically exchanged actual dollar bills with banks in places like Singapore. Bills that were dirty, stained, or creased ran a high risk of being flagged during counterfeit checks. Consequently, locals preferred new bills from travelers to avoid rejection by domestic banks. Despite their near-tearful appeal, crisp dollars aren’t something most travelers carry in abundance. Muttering under my breath, I managed to get them to accept my somewhat wrinkled notes. Hopping into the taxi, its air conditioning struggling against the heat, I arrived at my hotel in downtown Yangon about 25 minutes later.
Peering through the taxi window at the evening streets of Yangon, I saw crowds heading home after work. The city felt busy yet calm, peaceful. To get a feel for this unfamiliar place, I ventured out into the streets. June is the height of the monsoon season here. Rainfall charts showed June’s precipitation spiking to nearly ten times that of other months, so I had braced myself for downpours. That evening saw occasional showers, but locals navigated the streets between breaks in the clouds, eating at roadside stalls. This was Southeast Asia, the Indochina Peninsula. Rain wasn’t something to be feared, but a vital gift from the heavens. Thoroughly charmed by the city, I returned to the hotel. The dehumidifying air conditioner worked perfectly; no problems there. The only slightly curious item was the large LED flashlight handed to me at check-in (its purpose would soon become clear).
The next morning dawned unexpectedly clear, defying the rainy season. Before starting my research, I took a walk. Though the regime was said to be changing, some claimed the military junta’s core remained untouched. Before leaving Japan, someone had warned me against walking around with an SLR camera. Yet, like the previous night, the city felt, roughly speaking, like Bangkok from about 30 years ago. As a tourist walking around, I encountered none of the overt signs of a controlled society or military regime one might expect. It felt peaceful and somehow culturally rich. People were living their lives earnestly, and society seemed functional, albeit still developing. Above all, the smiles on people’s faces were incredibly captivating. My SLR camera drew no unwanted attention.
In the afternoon, I paid a courtesy visit to the All Nippon Airways (ANA) Yangon branch to inquire about the latest aviation and travel situation. Their office was located in the Sakura Tower, Yangon’s tallest office building. Many foreign and domestic airlines were housed there, apparently because, for a long time, it was the only building besides government facilities and the airport with access to the crucial SITA network for airline communications. Clearly, telecommunications infrastructure still had room for improvement. At the office, I met Ms. Khine, the branch manager. ANA had previously operated a Kansai-Yangon route (some via Bangkok) from 1996 to 2000. Ms. Khine had worked at the office since its inception, witnessing the evolution of Myanmar’s aviation landscape firsthand. She explained that aviation administration and services were undergoing significant changes amid the democratization process. For the winter season starting in October 2012, six new foreign airlines were scheduled to begin service to Yangon International Airport. ANA was one of them. As of June, they planned a charter flight from Narita in September, aiming for scheduled service on the same route in October, potentially using a Boeing 737 configured for business jets. Regarding the route’s revival 12 years after its withdrawal, Ms. Khine shared her feelings: “It’s busy, but I’m very happy. A direct flight from Japan is especially significant for business.” The other five airlines launching Yangon routes reportedly included Cathay Dragon, Korean Air, and Air India. It was truly the opening of Myanmar’s skies.
When I asked Ms. Khine about the expansion of the travel business alongside the growing aviation market, she noted that the domestic airline network, known for its low service standards, still required significant infrastructure development. She believed it would take time before foreign travelers could confidently rely on domestic air travel. I recalled reading in an expert analysis that Myanmar’s abundant natural resources meant democratization wouldn’t necessarily equate to an immediate push for tourism promotion. Perhaps this was another factor setting the country apart from its Southeast Asian neighbors.
As I prepared to leave, having gleaned valuable information, Ms. Khine unexpectedly offered to show me around Yangon International Airport. Gratefully accepting, we headed towards the terminal building that had so impressed me upon arrival. She informed me that the current terminal had opened in 2007. Its design, construction, and financing involved cooperation not only from domestic companies but also firms (and likely governments) from Singapore, China, and elsewhere. “Isn’t it unnecessarily grand?” I asked, slightly provocatively. She smiled, replying, “The Naypyitaw airport in the new capital is even grander, about twice the size of Yangon’s.” Airport facilities in many countries are indeed intertwined with national policy, reflecting political, economic, and diplomatic interests. Within the airport grounds, we also saw the adjacent former VIP building and the domestic terminal up close. The VIP building, reserved for government dignitaries, was a magnificent structure reminiscent of a Myanmar Buddhist temple, but now stood unused following the capital’s relocation. There was talk of potentially converting it into office space for newly arriving airlines. A word of caution: photography at the airport and access to certain areas require prior permission, so visitors should be mindful to avoid trouble.
Thanks to Ms. Khine’s generous assistance, I gained some insight into the country through the lens of its aviation scene. Having once worked for an airline myself, I believe providing such real-time, on-the-ground information to relevant parties is a key role of overseas branches. I am sincerely grateful for ANA’s accommodating and thorough response.
The following day, I decided to ride the “Circle Line,” a train looping around Yangon’s periphery. Everywhere, trains tend to be a more庶民的な (shominteki-na - relating to the common people) mode of transport than planes. The fare for the 3-hour-30-minute loop was just one US dollar (about 80 yen). Much of the route passed through idyllic countryside, but plastic waste dumping was noticeable near settlements around the stations—a stark reminder of the environmental challenges facing developing nations. On the other hand, the train cars, resembling freight wagons, constantly had vendors passing through, selling various foods. It was an enjoyable way to experience the daily lives of ordinary people. The northernmost part of the Circle Line runs just a short distance from the northern end of Yangon International Airport’s runway. With the right timing, one might get a close-up view of aircraft taxiing onto the runway for takeoff. The train sways, but moves slowly. Would it be too niche even for avid spotters to call this a “hidden photo spot”?
Back at the hotel, pondering Myanmar’s future, I gazed out the window at the massive stupa of the Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar’s holiest Buddhist site. Despite ongoing democratization, various restrictions reportedly remained. Take the internet, for example. While outright blocking citizen communications was internationally difficult, authorities could apparently limit data volume or transmission speeds. Citizens weren’t forbidden from traveling abroad, but difficulties obtaining visas for destination countries and occasional restrictions on returning made it far from common. Where was this country headed? Perhaps the best way for us travelers to find the answer is to witness firsthand the changes unfolding through its rapidly opening civil aviation market. Amidst an unexpectedly calm and free atmosphere that defied preconceptions, one might sense the spirit of Asia’s people—both developing and nostalgically familiar—and glimpse the potential for a prosperous future.
During my stay, power outages occurred several times. Elevators would stop, but the building’s backup generator would soon kick in, restoring power. No one panicked. I finally understood the purpose of the LED flashlight from check-in during the first blackout. What struck me most then was looking out the window: beyond the pitch-black darkness, only the lights illuminating the giant Shwedagon Pagoda remained, steadfastly watching over the people.
At the time of travel (June, 2012), credit cards were generally not usable within Myanmar, and exchanging Japanese Yen was nearly impossible. Local banks were reportedly working with Japanese banks on plans to introduce ATMs. For the time being, visitors needed to bring crisp US dollar bills. Airport currency exchange counters were said to offer the same rates as those in the city center.
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