FEB 9 — The 90-minute journey from Naypyidaw airport to the hotel was a truly amazing experience.

The roads are weirdly broad, ranging from eight to 16 lanes in width. By comparison, Malaysia’s highways are only four to six lanes wide.

What kind of city requires such wide boulevards? One that would allow wide-bodied jets to make emergency landings and takeoffs?

We don’t see such roads in Beijing nor New York, but they are all here in Naypyidaw.

The pencil-straight thoroughfares that extend indefinitely from the Naypyidaw plains are nevertheless bumpy, probably due to the deplorable construction and maintenance standards.

The street lamps flanking the roads are only partially funtioning. You would need to travel quite some distance before you could come across an antiquated motorcycle or truck coming the other way.

It’s like a deserted city that has lost most of its residents.

But this is not during the wee hours of the morning but the early hours of dusk, around 7.00pm local time.

The second morning, with the sun hanging right above us, we could see the same disengaged city, but with a few more sporadic bicycles and some buildings that had been obscured by the night.

Very few residential units, or they have been scattered all across the wide expanse of the terrain. In the downtown are a few large stores and hotels, but hardly any pedestrian activity.

Military policemen could be seen on duty at regular intervals. On top of that, there were a handful of gardeners trimming the roadside plants as they strived to upkeep the city’s look under the merciless scorching sun.

Sure enough Naypyidaw is the country’s administrative cum military hub, but not a commercial centre. So we shouldn’t look at it the way we do to other cities.

That said, there should be some really good reasons to erect a city in the middle of nowhere. In Myanmar, they could have their own reasoning.

I hurled the question to some locals and most of them told me it was the design of the military junta who worried the Americans would invade the country and overthrow their regime.

Yangon, or Rangoon, used to be the capital of Myanmar for centuries. Facing the Adnaman Sea and the Indian Ocean, the thriving metropolis is Myanmar’s primary sea port and gateway.

After the military took over the country, the openness of Yangon became a threat to the regime, especially with the US Seventh Fleet patrolling the Indian Ocean and the Fifth Fleet in nearby Arabian Sea.

In the face of this menace and a deep-rooted sense of insecurity, Than Shwe resolved to move the capital much further inland.

Other than the US factor, it has been rumoured that General Than Shwe also took the advice of soothsayer E Thi to move the capital to Naypidaw.

This E Thi — or ET as she is affectionately known owing to her small build, hunchback, deafness, dumbness and resemblance in appearance to the well-known character in Steven Spielberg’s movie — is most definitely not an extra-terrestrial. She is the most celebrated fortune teller in Myanmar and beyond.

E Thi is a legendary figure herself, and stories about her could be easily compiled into a best-seller. To put things straight, she is national level soothsayer whom Than Shwe trusts without reservations. Former Thai prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra is another big fan of hers.

We can say what E Thi told Than Shwe and Thaksin has had some bearing on the fates of these two Southeast Asian neighbours.

I visited the government quarter in Naypidaw as well as the Big Buddha and imposing Parliament House.

This capital city could be a far-fetching vision of the Myanmar government, or just the work of some supernatural force and inspiration. Anyway, this is beyond the understanding of ordinary people.

What I want to say is that this capital city is way too outlandish, too mysterious, and light years from the common folks. — mysinchew

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication. The Malaysian Insider does not endorse the view unless specified.