chances are, you haven t been to this place. chances are, this is a place you ve never seen. other than maybe blurry cellphone videos, old black-and-white newsreels from world war ii. chances are, bad things were happening in the footage you saw. myanmar. after 50 years of nightmare, something unexpected is happening here, and it s pretty incredible. in yangon, capital city of myanmar, it s dark. blackouts are frequent with the ancient power grid. what sources of light there are in the street cast an eerie, yellow-orange hue. for almost 100 years under british rule, this was rangoon. in 1948, after helping the british fight off the japanese, and with a new taste for self-determination, the country gained independence. after a decade of instability, however, the military consolidated power and never let go. elections, they came and went. the results ignored, opposition punished or silenced entirely. burma, now myanmar, where orwell had once served as a colonial policeman
coals. fingers work mountains of sweet bean, one of the fillings for the variety of pastries that are stuffed, shaped, and put into an old stone oven. in another corner, the heartening slap of fresh bread pressed against the clay wall of a tandoori. and of course, eggs bob and spin in the magical hell broth of fish, spice, and herb. mohinga? this i must have. correct me if i m wrong, if there s a national dish, a fundamental most beloved dish, would it be would it be this? yes, for example, take a look at all these foodstuff. these is indian, these are chinese, et cetera. but that mohinga is a local thing. and it s popular not only in the city but also in the rural areas, too. it s a fish based with some rice or noodles. sometimes we d put in some crispies, like fried beans, or fried garlic. so these are some coriander leaves. yeah. and came with some limes.
spit in the magical hell broth of fish, spice, and herb. mohinga? uh, this i must have. correct me if i m wrong, if there s a national dish, a fundamental, most beloved dish, would it be would it be this? u thiha: yeah, for example, take a look at all this sweet stuff. this is indian. these are chinese, et cetera. but then mohinga is a local thing. and it s popular not in the city but also in the rural areas, too, in a fish base with some rice or noodles. we would sometimes we put in some crispies, like fried beans or anthony: mm-hmm. u thiha: fried. anthony: mm. u thiha: so, these are some coriander leaves. anthony: yeah. u thiha: you can mix some some limes. anthony: sprinkle some in here. mm. good textures. particularly in the light of, uh, obama s recent visit, these are interesting times. significant changes for the first time in, you know, 50 years. u thiha: yeah. there s one thing which is quite significant. for example, take a look around. all kinds of
out, or just, take the whole story out. anthony: magazines that would come into the country would they cut out, literally cut out the pieces. u thiha: well, the people under this kind of tight censorship, people become more, i think, creative. take a look, careful reading, there may be something between the lines, messages. anthony: right. it was something you were accused of, uh, sending these secret messages. in the back, a cauldron of salty little fish bubble over hardwood coals. fingers work mountains of sweet bean, one of the fillings for the variety of pastries that are stuffed, shaped, and put into an old stone oven. in another corner, the heartening slap of fresh bread,f a tandoori. and, of course, eggs bob and spin in the magical hell broth of fish, spice, and herb. mohinga? uh, this i must have.
story out. anthony: magazines that would come into the country would they cut out, literally cut outthe pieces. u thiha: well, the people under this kind of tight censorship, people become more, i think, creative. take a look, careful reading, there may be something between the lines, messages. anthony: right. it was something you were accused of, uh, sending these secret messages. in the back, a cauldron of salty little fish bubble over hardwood coals. fingers work mountains of sweet bean, one of the fillings for the variety of pastries that are stuffed, shaped, and put into an old stone oven. in another corner, the heartening slap of fresh bread, pressed against the clay wall of a tandoori. and, of course, eggs bob and spit in the magical hell broth of fish, spice, and herb. mohinga? uh, this i must have. correct me if i m wrong, if