YANGON'S OLD AIRPORT

Earlier this year, Yangon opened up a fancy new international airport for the big jets to come and go, but the old one -- now handling domestic flights -- is my favorite. I showed up this morning for a flight to Sittwe, an old port town on the Bay of Bengal, and a man in an orange vest got my bulging bag and brought it in the airport (35-cent tip) where a friendly 20-year-old airline staff member greeted me and took me bag to the service counter. 'No passport needed.' He hurriedly weighed the bag, tagged it and took it to the baggage handlers, as another person got me my boarding pass in 40 seconds. I put my bag on the X-ray belt -- no one looking at it -- as I beeped loudly going through the x-ray myself -- no one cared. The fading waiting lounge is busy with activity. Kids play on the carpeted floors with toy cars, business people sit over a coffee at a stylish cafe with this (quick) email access (for $1.60 for 30 minutes). Nearby rows of red vinyl and blue plastic seats are filled with a few foreigners, a few monks and plenty of locals headed to Bagan, the beach or Sittwe like myself.

For tea, I followed the 'Airport Restaurant' sign to the mezzanine lounge -- faintly formal, and seriously fading. And sat with a cheap tea and looked over a wall mural showing Burmese nat spirits, horses, mountains. Out the window, a military air force plane took off as domestic propeller planes of Air Bagan and Air Mandalay quietly waited.

'Thank you sir,' said the staff as I left with my empty plastic tea cup.