I drove my electric bicycle down Shwedagon Pagoda Road yesterday toward Junction City. It was the mall’s opening day, and I was curious about what it would offer. As I approached the entrance, I noticed the excavator-mounted hydraulic jackhammer pounding away at the concrete. I said to my companion: “This will be a pleasant shopping experience.”
The first thing we noticed upon entering the mall was how populous the place was. The ground floor was full of folks enjoying the live music, queuing up for snacks at a single open restaurant, taking selfie after selfie beside the pretty fountains. The second thing I noticed was why they were there – not much else in the mall was open. The third thing was that people seemed happy.
I had heard Junction City had a Muji, so I set off past mini-construction sites looking for it. It turned out to only be a Miniso. I would have gone in, but it was too crowded. Miniso was also one of the few shops that was open, and it’s known for being affordable. I told myself I’d come back later to buy something useful.
I meandered away from the Miniso to see what else was new. Most of the stores I passed promised to be open soon. I was in the middle of formulating a nuanced opinion about the mall and the future of Yangon when my companion pointed out a young woman wearing a t-shirt that said “Nazi Brand” on the front and had a little swastika on the back. I never finished my thought.
The topmost of Junction City’s five floors houses the fetal stage of a food court’s development – all of the major organs are present, but it is not quite alive. One day, it will grow up and put Golden Pho in my belly.
We bought tickets to see “Beauty and the Beast” at the cinema. A news article from December 2015 described the cinema as “IMAX-ready”. I can only assume it is still ready. When we were asked to choose our seats, my companion and I chose a “couple’s seat” because we like sitting in the back, and we like cute things.
The menu above the popcorn counter offers three varieties: salt, caramel, and cheese. I asked the sales associate for salty popcorn, but they didn’t have any. My companion was crushed; she really wanted salty popcorn. I looked around for some solution and noticed a small child trying to order popcorn with cheese. That wasn’t available either. The kid was incredulous, but another sales associate assured him that only caramel popcorn was available. We both ordered caramel popcorn. It was burnt.
We arrived at our “couple’s seat” to find that it would more accurately be labeled “couple-of-humans-who-are-slightly-smaller-than-us seat”. We ate the burnt popcorn, and the movie turned out to be lovely. All depictions of Stockholm syndrome should be musical.
I went back to Miniso to get something useful, but it had closed. One of the employees said: “Come back morning.” I said: “See you tomorrow.”
We walked out of the mall onto the street and looked up at the Holy Trinity Church. My friend sang in a choir there last year, and I have nice memories of it. It was just after 9pm, and Bogyoke Aung San Road was quiet and empty. I looked to my right and saw the New Bogyoke Aung San Market, wondering what will be in there when it opens.
I drove home with the feeling that always lingers with me after I leave the cinema – the feeling that everyone had just seen the film with me. I liked “Beauty and the Beast”, and I’d had a pretty good day, so I felt the warmth of a shared experience with all the other Yangon residents I passed.
