I hate isolation.  The thought of it makes me ill.  Don’t get me wrong, I like my “me” time and even consider myself introverted.  But the idea of fencing myself off from the world, decreasing my options, makes me uncomfortable.

I’d visited eight countries in the span of four months.  My experience thus far had been unimaginable, even with my lofty expectations.  Chocolate Hills, Buddhist Mountains, Jungles that inspired the Heart of Darkness, temples the size of cities… The trials to reach these locations were often hard but rarely made me uncomfortable.  Wherever I went, I felt more and more at home.  A testament to amazing people, hospitality, and food.

Throughout my travels, I kept on hearing travelers reference “North Korea Jr”.  It tugged at my curiosity but I never asked questions.  I had no interest in seeing isolated North Korea nor its understudy, wherever it may be.  It took a while but I finally connected the dots.  In discussing the narcissistic practice of sharing the most beautiful things I’ve seen traveling, the other half of the conversation mentioned “Bagan” as being “Angkor Wat on steroids”.  A weird thing to hear but nonetheless a perfect description given the density of Buddhist Pagodas in the region.  Embarrassed by my ignorance, I researched Bagan on my phone while pretending to Instagram a cheeseburger at a Kiwi bar in Siem Reap.  It was here I realized Bagan’s location within the confines of Myanmar.  A country filled with a history of oppression through isolation.  Not to mention a capital city known as NayPyiTaw, aka North Korea Jr.

It only took me a few pictures to push me to book a flight to Yangon, the old capital and cultural center of Myanmar.  As I cautiously disembarked from the plane and entered the customs line, I was pleasantly surprised by smiling faces and a genuine want to help.  And even more so by my taxi driver/tour guide and hostel.  What wasn’t pleasant was the typhoon that rolled through flooding the entire city.  Luckily, in the many hours of “waiting out” the rain, I met a few Dutch dudes.  Over a meal we decided to take the next bus to Bagan where endless Buddhist wonders, and clear sky’s, awaited us.

The two days in Bagan were incredible.  We picked up a new Dutch friend and E-biked our way through endless temples.  Over beers, and stories of our day’s triumphs, the uncomfortable question came up.  In discussing our next destination everyone was adamant about going to Naypyidaw.  Given my uncomfortableness with the idea of isolating myself in one of the most isolated destinations in the world, it took a few more beers until I agreed to join.  North Korea Jr, here I come.

To set the stage… NayPyiDaw was built because the government was worried about a foreign attack after years of colonialism by the British.  But, given the vastness of the capital and it’s location in a giant marsh, it’s speculated it was built to make a regime change via coup d’etat nearly impossible.  A valid concern given the political uncertainty in the country but not great when trying to earn the trust of the people.

Well, the regime change happened anyway and the new leaders decided to make NayPyiDaw the official capital over Yangon in the mid 2000’s.  It’s been a slow trickle of military and government officials.  Sprinkle in with a few merchants and Chinese consultants and you have a population of thirty thousand in a city that was built to hold three million.

After a seven-hour van journey filled with 80’s era singalongs, we arrived in the Hotel Zone, which is exactly as it sounds.  A ten square kilometer area of four and five-star hotels.  We checked into the Hotel Aye Chan Thar as the second guests of a 50 room resort.  There were five workers per guest.

Hotel Zone

With the closest sights 9km from our hotel, and not a taxi in sight, we rented motorbikes from the staff and began our exploration of the desolate town.  There’s a giant golden pagoda, the symbol of the Country’s conservative religious hold.  A park with a nice man-made lake.  A couple dozen government buildings.  But the highlight is the parliament building preceded by a 20 lane highway.  An endeavor not even seen in America, the land of cars.  And its only occupants were three little motorbikes and a lonely police officer more than willing to snap a picture for some curious travelers.  Nothing more.  Quite possibly, the loneliest highway on Earth.

NayPyiDaw’s Highway

I wish I had more to say about NapPyiDaw, but I think this picture says a million words.  A place that shouldn’t exist, built out of fear, brought three strangers together to motorbike a 20 lane highway, alone.  For a day, we owned a highway in North Korea Jr.