When the seemingly honest man said to me, "Don't expect to see the real Myanmar," I didn't know what to think.

I arrived to the country formerly known as Burma and was greeted by sparkling gold stupas of Buddhist shrines fashioning a skyline of gold and palm trees.

The streets of Yangon were filled with vendors selling watermelons, fried noodles and jewelry.

There were no tanks patrolling the streets or any other signs of the governmental brutality for which Myanmar is notoriously known. I was surprised that Myanmar's largest city could pull of the facade of a normal, nonrepressed society.

For four decades, Myanmar has been a tightly controlled society functioning with an oppressive military government that has left its citizens living in fear. The military government calls itself the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) and is an extremely destructive group.

Semester at Sea warned us to not engage in political discussions with the local people, especially in public places. Because Burmese people do not have freedom of speech, those who speak about SLORC negatively are imprisoned and even killed.

Still, I was excited to experience the culture and encounter Myanmar as a journalist.

I learned from my professor that it is difficult to get into Myanmar as a journalist, and journalists who have written critically about the military regime are not allowed to return to the country.

I was excited about the opportunity to visit the country and interact with the people, but this was the first country in which I was actually hesitant to approach locals and ask questions about their lives.

But because I had no visual proof that the information I read was correct, I questioned its accuracy.

On the surface, the people appeared happy with their everyday lives and seemed to interact well with one another.

But something told what I read was true and that the military couldn't hide everything, and only moments later I realized how accurate my hypothesis was.

While trying to take relief from the 100-degree heat, I sat on the sidewalk and drank a much-needed bottle of water.

After quenching my thirst, I set my nearly empty bottle down next to me when I saw two little hands pick up my bottle. A boy no older than seven, who was wearing a tattered white shirt, smiled at me as he started to unscrew the cap. He opened it and was about drink the three ounces left in the bottle when he screamed.

My head snapped back to see a police officer thrashing the child's back with a black stick. The police officer started yelling in Burmese and I started screaming back at him, in an attempt to get him to stop.

My body jolted up from the ground and subconsciously I screamed "No, stop, stop!"

Thwack! Twack! I couldn't bear to watch this happen. His bony back was bleeding and a black bruise immediately started to form. After a few more seconds, the officer stopped beating the boy. He grabbed the water bottle from the boy's hand and gestured it toward me. I took the bottle back and told the officer that wasn't necessary. I wanted to say more and call the police on this man, but then I realized he was the police.

It was then that it hit me -- this is what life was like for people living under a military regime. So I decided to stay silent because I didn't want to make a scene and I was terrified of the consequence of bad-mouthing the man.

I took the child's shaking hand and escorted him away from the police officer.

My friend and I then led him to an outdoor food stand to get him something to eat. I pointed to the food and rubbed my stomach as I asked him "Food? Hungry?" We bought him something to eat and a few bottles of water.

We sat with him in small plastic chairs as he stuffed rice in his mouth with his little hand. His tears left a clear trail on his dirty face, and I wiped his eyes with a tissue from my bag.

The whole time he did not breathe a word, but he was at least smiling. When he was done eating, he waved a quick goodbye and ran away from us.

Later that day I was sitting in a restaurant, and I made eye contact with the only other non-Burmese person there. He introduced himself as Mark, an American who has been making visits to Myanmar for over 25 years.

During the course of our conversation, he told me that the military had been preparing for our arrival.

"Don't expect to see the real Myanmar," Mark said. "They pulled back their number [of homeless people] in the streets."

He went on to add that SLORC even killed homeless people to manipulate our impression of Myanmar's poverty.

As I sat back and reflected on the day, I realized that the government had made an unsuccessful attempt to hide the true nature of its repressive society and the effects its regime has on the average citizen.

If the status quo continues and no one stands up for these people against their oppressive military, then they will forever be frozen in their seclusion from the rest of the world.

Going to Myanmar was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me. Other tourists should not be discouraged from traveling to Myanmar because until we can understand the society beyond its superficial facade, nothing will ever change.