The lights are on but no one's home in Myanmar's capital Naypyidaw
Ten years after it was unveiled as Myanmar's vast new capital, Naypyidaw has everything required of a major international city - except people. Matt Kennard and Claire Provost report
Driving through Naypyidaw, the purpose-built capital of Myanmar, it's easy to forget you're in the middle of one of Southeast Asia's poorest countries.
The roads have up to 20 lanes and stretch as far as the eye can see (the rumour is these grandiose boulevards were built to enable aircraft to land on them in the event of anti-government protests or other "disturbances"). There is a safari park, a zoo - complete with air-conditioned penguin habitat - and at least four golf courses. And the electricity supply is reliable here, unlike almost everywhere else in the country. Many of the restaurants have free, fast Wi-fi.
The only thing Naypyidaw doesn't have, it seems, is people. The vast highways are empty and there is a stillness to the air. Nothing moves. Officially, the city's population is one million, but many doubt this is true. On a bright Sunday afternoon, the streets are silent, restaurants and hotel lobbies empty. It looks like an eerie picture of post-apocalypse suburban America; like a David Lynch film on location in North Korea.
(often translated as "Seat of the King") was unveiled as Myanmar's new capital in November 2005, by the then military regime. Built from scratch in the middle of rice paddies and sugar-cane fields, the city is rumoured to have cost up to US$4 billion to construct, in a country which spends just 0.4 per cent of its gross domestic product on health care for its people - by far the lowest in the world.
In recent years, the city's bizarre emptiness has become something of an international curiosity. The BBC's team marvelled at the city's desolate boulevards when they visited last year as part of a special episode filmed in the country (see , page 36). The show's controversial presenters staged a drag-race down the vast, empty roads and joked about the difficulties of navigating the capital's non-existent morning rush hour.
But Naypyidaw's wide, empty streets do have some pedestrians: the ubiquitous street cleaners, who walk in pairs in their neon-green vests, sweeping the already pristine streets for hours each day. And the small army of labourers, piling bricks with bare hands as the city's construction continues.
Although a nominally civilian government has ruled Myanmar since 2011, locals are wary of speaking to us. Those who do plead for their real names not to be used.