Yangon's life, where the heart is dyed gold and the taste is dyed jet black.

I landed in Yangon, Myanmar, on a slightly humid afternoon as the rainy season was coming to an end. Looking out from the window of a local bus amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, something sparkling caught my eye. They were the many golden stupas, or pagodas, peeking out from between buildings and trees.

After unpacking at my lodging, I headed to the Shwedagon Pagoda. Its grandeur was far more magnificent than I had imagined, shining dazzlingly as it bathed in the sunlight.

Japanese temples are often simple, understated wooden structures, so why are religious facilities in foreign countries so flashy and glitzy?

When I took off my shoes and walked on the hot marble, the heat gradually spread from the soles of my feet throughout my entire body.

As I was walking around the pagoda, a young monk approached me. He smiled and asked in fluent English, 'Are you from Japan?' His vibrant scarlet robes and serene expression further accentuated the sanctity of this place.

'Yes. This pagoda is truly wonderful,' I replied. He nodded quietly and spoke gently about the history of the pagoda and the faith of the people who visit here. His voice permeated my heart like a cool breeze.

When I listened closely, the light, tinkling sound of wind chimes and the chanting of monks overlapped in a relaxed manner. The sound was like a lullaby meant to bring peace and tranquility to the hearts of those who visit this land.

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Leaving the pagoda behind, I headed to a local eatery to have dinner. What I ordered there was a curry unique to Myanmar. What was brought before me was a dark, deep-colored curry that contrasted with the golden-shining pagoda. When I took a bite, a deep flavor, where various spices were complexly intertwined rather than just the heat of chili peppers, spread throughout my mouth.

The flashy brilliance of the pagoda represents the pure faith of the people. On the other hand, the black color of this curry might symbolize the complex and profound parts of Myanmar's history and the lives of its people. Two things with contrasting colors each tell of the charm of this country.


On the balcony of my lodging, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, only silence enveloped me. The sight of people's sincere prayers, the monk's gentle voice, and the overwhelming brilliance of the pagoda. All of these were deeply etched into my heart.

—Ah, once again, a soliloquy in a strange foreign land.