strange worlds

during the monsoon, mandalay

Mandalay was flooded by the monsoon, and getting around was almost impossible. We plowed through streets a foot deep with water, until the car finally coughed and died. Down the lane, a ruined monastery; two young monks flew a kite from an upper window.

khin nyunt at the pagoda

In the late 1990's, the Burmese junta renovated the ancient Shwedagon Pagoda -- the spiritual heart of the country -- to gain merit. The project was led by Lt-Gen Khin Nyunt (center), the head of Military Intelligence; he was later deposed in an internal coup.

nun and abbot, rangoon

An old nun stuck waved at me from her hut, motioning me inside. I couldn't make sense of what she was saying, so she pushed me over to an odd wooden box that took up most of the room. With her sleeve, she wiped off a small window in the side. A black, shrivelled face looked out -- the mummified body of a monk.

james dean in the monastery

There were always pictures of the Buddha hanging in Burmese monasteries. There were often pictures of revered abbots, or donors to the monkhood. To see James Dean was rare.

silent abbot, north okkalapa

The abbot of the monastery didn't speak, hadn't spoken for twelve years. I sat on the floor as he watched me in silence, feeding bits of cracker to a cat. Suddenly he reached into a small cabinet, pulled out a colorful child's book on Buddhism, and pressed it into my hands.

monks' umbrellas

A dozen ancient monasteries, linked together by winding paths in a part of Rangoon called Wingaba - "the Labyrinth."

drunk at the foot of the pagoda

The drunk man's slippers were neatly placed on the steps, as if he meant to climb to the pagoda but had fallen back into the road. A pack of kids showed up and jeered at him, holding on to the Buddha for support.

fakir at the shwedagon pagoda

She stared directly into the sun for hours, motionless at the foot of the pagoda. People would approach her cautiously, tuck money into the folds of her cloak, then back away. When the sun had set, she rubbed her face for a moment, then joined two friends who had been sleeping under a nearby tree.

at the convent, early morning

A cool clear dawn, a hilltop convent in a grove of mango trees. From below, the sounds of the waking city. White frangipani in bloom outside the window. A small black bird with a two-note call.

the astrologer, mandalay

There was a table in the middle of the astrologer's house, and the astrologer was sleeping on it when I arrived. His assistant woke him and brought me into the room. "Do not worry," he assured me, as he put on his thick blue glasses and peered into my future. "You have come to the exact place."

black hand, angry dog

Mergui, on the Tennaserim coast of Burma. A dog came scrambling out of a shed in the monastery and howled at me. His fur had a chewed look; one eye was crusted with pus. He howled and howled until a monk came down the corridor and threw a stone at him.

sun on the road to bathein

A random stop on a remote road. The blinding light of mid-day; faces burn away; robes turn into wings. The sound of voices like rustling feathers.

reclining buddha, vertical light

Barefoot in Sulyamani temple, Bagan. In a narrow passageway, a huge black scorpion scuttled across my path, tail curved above its head. I stopped. There was a low clicking sound. Then there was a pounding sound -- the blood in my head.

open your eyes

She was beautiful, charming and eighty seven years old, and she invited me into the convent for tea. When I asked to take her photograph, she carefully sat down and closed her eyes -- refusing to open them until she heard the shutter click.

hundred pillars monastery

Burmese monasteries are sanctuaries, always open. Here, a small flourish: pull the wooden cube, and off in the distance, the quiet jingle of a delicate bell.