YANGON, Myanmar -- This is the hot destination right now. The trend-setting travel editors in New York have named Myanmar the latest "in" spot, and you can stand back, look and count the days before teak-studded, five-star hotels will fight for space alongside restaurants with chef names we recognize.
But not now. Not yet.
Today, Myanmar is the "not quite" destination of the moment, seemingly propelled by its own promises of tourism success just around the corner. But look around the corner, nearly any corner, and you will see still another dilapidated former colonial building, old taxis, tuk-tuks and horses clomping past, pulling carts full of wood.
This is a land filled with something other places seem to no longer have: a sense of charming decay surrounded by green fields.
You see, Myanmar has not marched into the new century with a tourism plan. It has, instead, marched into the century as a closed society governed by a military dictatorship that saw little value in opening up the Burmese culture to Western ideas or dollars. The generals ran the country, and they ran it, as generals tend to do, for their own personal enrichment. Myanmar, formerly Burma, a name associated with colonialism, is not the most corrupt nation on Earth. Unless close counts. In 2011, it was ranked 180th out of 183 countries in Transparency International's corruption index.
The country has an upstairs and a downstairs. The top part has mountains and lovely forests. The south, where I am staying, is a flat plain.
Many tourists from the States include a river cruise on their itinerary. They sail the Irrawaddy on some of the finest river vessels in existence, most with teak floors and featuring beautiful local woods. They sail past the ancient capital, Bagan, with more than 2,000 temples.
You do this cruise in season, because when the monsoons come calling, as they always do, the entire lower half of the country turns into a kind of floodplain that stretches from the base of the Himalayas all the way to the Andaman Sea.
To wake up on an early morning and take a hot-air balloon ride over the temples of Bagan is one of life's great travel experiences. It is simply breathtaking.
But here's the thing: How do you get there, given that your entry point is Yangon?
The answer is that you fly one of the national airlines, from Yangon or one of several other airfields scattered around the country. The aircraft flown by these local airlines are nicknamed, as Anthony Bourdain points out, "flying coffins," thanks to a less-than-acceptable safety record.
The alternative to flying, when going from Yangon to Bagan, is an 11-hour train ride. But, given the number of derailments on this route and the rock-and-roll nature of the track beds, deciding whether to fly or train to your destination is something of a toss-up.
Everyone in the country seems to be watching the Tatmadaw, the Burmese army. Will they embrace the winds of democratic change or assist in a retreat to the days of fear, repression and iron-handed leadership? They now have newspapers and tea houses. But suspicion reigns, and tour guides must watch what they say.
I did manage to find one place in Yangon where no one seemed much interested in where the country was headed: a training temple for young Buddhist monks. Here, children ages 12 and up spend their days studying. We were able to spend an hour with them, observing and sharing their quiet contemplation but also sharing a few words now and then.
Buddha was a son of a wealthy prince, born about 560 B.C. on the slopes of what is now Nepal. He married, had a child when he was 30 and lived in a world of servants and gold. But when, for the very first time, he wandered far off the palace grounds, he witnessed wrenching poverty and wretched people without hope. He shed his robes, gave up his worldly possessions and sought to help others. One day, while visiting the Indian state of Bihar, he sat underneath the shade of a bo tree and experienced a state of "enlightenment."
The young monks wear saffron robes and keep black lacquer bowls close by. After two hours of meditation in the early morning hours, they will walk the nearby streets with their bowls, hoping to have the means of a breakfast collected before their return to the temple. Then, more studying, followed by the walk with their bowl for the noon meal.
After 1 p.m., no food will be taken until the following morning, in keeping with Lord Buddha's practices, a form of abstinence that they will practice for the rest of their lives.
Watching my daughter interact with these neophytes was something I will never forget.
We went to two homes, one very typical where all the relatives came to see us and the mother of the house had prepared local foods that they eat regularly. The second visit was to the more elaborate and surprisingly modern home of the country's most important filmmaker and artist.
On an early morning, my wife and daughter were invited by locals to join tai chi exercises on the edge of Inle Lake.
It is easy to write about how fascinating Myanmar is to visit. Or I could simply write about it being a country on the cusp of a tourism wave, a place you need to send your clients right away, and be done with it.
But there are some ethical concerns with traveling in Myanmar, points originally noted in a piece in the New York Times by Joshua Hammer, who argued that the very notion of visiting the country is "complicated."
Here's the thing: Seeing the handwriting on the wall, many of the generals have cut and run, using their stolen funds to invest heavily in the next big cash crop after opium, said to bring in about $1 billion annually, and teak harvesting, which is responsible for an alarming level of deforestation.
Today's high-yield crop is tourism. Hammer reports that every single airline in the country is owned by associates of the former military dictator, as are the vast majority of upscale tourist hotels. Spend money flying or sleeping in Myanmar, and you are helping some very bad people get richer while doing little to help locals emerge from abject poverty.
The richest man in the country is said to be U Tay Za, who, among other holdings, owns the luxurious Aureum Palace Hotel in Bagan. He is so not a nice guy that our Treasury Department has named him a dangerous arms dealer, frozen his assets and prevented him from visiting the U.S. These are the kinds of people in charge of Myanmar's wave of tourism growth.
The locals do not stare as I pass. The women wear a white paste on their faces made from the bark of the thanaka tree, an inexpensive and effective sunscreen. For them, life has gotten better, and something called democracy is in the air. They may vote in the next election.
But how much of the benefits of the opium trade, the teak deforestation or the growing tourism cyclone will enrich their lives in any measurable way?
Myanmar is the ultimate "could go either way" country of the moment. This time, at least, the world is watching.
Contributing Editor Richard Bruce Turen owns Churchill & Turen Ltd., a luxury vacation firm based in Naples, Fla. He is also managing director of the Churchill Group, a sales training and marketing consultancy. Contact him at rturen@travelweekly.com.