At first glance, the Norman Monastery in Yangon’s Mingalar Taung
Nyunt Township is a sight to behold. Supported by more than a
hundred teak pillars and made almost entirely of the coveted,
carefully oil-treated lumber, the 124-year-old structure sprawls
along a plot of land nearly 200 feet (61 meters) long and 100
feet wide. Its facade is partly embellished with a traditional
Myanmar motif of entwined tendrils, while its tiered roof is
decorated with pinnacles and its gables are adorned with
exquisite wooden carvings. Step inside, however, and this first
impression of dignified solidity quickly vanishes. When it
rains, the roof leaks. The floors creak under the slightest
pressure, and through a louver window with a missing hinge, you
can see a pinnacle dangling like a fractured lance. The early
evening light penetrates broken panes of stained glass, painting
abstract patterns on the rust-colored robes of the monks who
move through the gloom inside. Called the Norman Monastery after
a school that originally oc