Memory tricks me, willingly.  I remember the trepidation of landing at Mingaladon.  I expected soldiers and guns, pushing and shoving through crowds.  As I stepped out on the tarmac, the first thing that hit me was the sun, a golden light like a photographic filter.  It is warm then harsh as the day wears on.  The smell is next, a tangy perfume, scents of tumeric and garlic and jasmine.  Men bustling around wearing skirt like longyis, the faces of girls and women painted yellow with Thanaka, hawlers selling snacks from baskets on head, what was noticably absent was the guns.  I was greeted with smiles and friendly welcomes.

Many consider Myanmar as a curiosity on the whistle stop tour of South East Asia, leaving it for last.  Some feel politically incorrect to go.  But this one time foreign resident knows the joy of the Myanmar smile, the radiance of its culture, untouched.  It rightfully so should be at the top of your travel itinerary, even if it requires a long haul flight.

The Land of Golden Smiles, Kipling once wrote, "This is Burma.  It is quite unlike any place you know about"