After the indulgence of ‘living it up resort-style’ in Koh Samui with Caro and Suz I was back on my own, and back in Bangkok for a couple more nights.
I stayed near Siam square where I’d been before - I loved walking out the door and wandering past all the food stalls. There are the ones specialising in selling a single thing: fruit, juices, pancakes, skewered meats, fried bananas and of course the fantastic iced coffees (plenty of condensed milk for a real sugar hit). Then there are the pavement cafes: they seem to be able to sell a full menu from a relatively compact mobile kitchen set-up.
Prelude to Myanmar
Before heading to Myanmar I needed to obtain a large sum of money – in crisp, clean, unmarked (i.e. completely ‘as new’) US dollars…
There are no ATMs in Myanmar, and no credit card facilities, so it’s necessary to take all the money you will need as cash. Some people talked about having to cut short their stay due to running out of money, and I spent many hours of research trying to work out my ‘budget’ for 11 days: quite stressful!
I’d read a lot of traveller’s blogs emphasising the need to have bills in perfect condition: any slight tear, crease or mark and the bill would be rejected! Also, $100 notes receive a better exchange rate than $50s or $20s (bizarre!) I thought getting the cash in Bangkok would be relatively straightforward... but what a palaver! The first two banks I went to didn’t have any US dollars, the third had some – but clearly didn’t understand my need for ‘perfect’ notes. Finally, I headed out to the airport, where I managed to obtain $1000 (A lot more money than I’d prefer to be carrying in cash form).
Yangon
The next day, I was on a flight to Myanmar (previously known as Burma), to the largest city Yangon (previously known as Rangoon)… the multiple names do get a little confusing, and are the result of the junta deciding to change all the old British names. I’d done quite a lot of reading prior to heading to Myanmar; it is governed by a long-running military dictatorship (the junta) -although there were elections held last year (I think the same people are effectively in control, but there have been some moves to open up the country, and some political prisoners have been released )-. Knowing this, I was a little pensive about what it would be like: how difficult it would be to travel around, and how closely I would be ‘monitored’ (I’d heard that internet was not widespread, web-based email sites were blocked, and a screen-shot of your internet usage is taken every 15 minutes).
The first surprise was the airport: It was completely MODERN: light, bright, with an ornate ‘temple-like’ façade, and shiny new signs in English. If I’d thought about it at all, I guess I’d been expecting something more similar to Kathmandu: dim, dark wood panelling, old-style desks – generally looking like something from another time. I later found out that the international terminal is just 8 months old. (In contrast, the domestic terminal is old, tired and very basic).
I shared a taxi into town with a couple of other travellers. Another surprise: although the taxis were all old and beat-up, the roads were wide, with well-maintained gardens on each side and on the roundabouts.
I spent two days in the centre of Yangon, mostly just wandering the streets. A lot of the time I felt like I was ‘on show’ – everyone would stare at me as I walked past, and I lost count of the number of times I was told I was beautiful (by men and women)! I did find it a bit strange; as I was by no-means the only white person in town… but it seems that the tourists congregate in only a couple of locations. One of these was the fantastic Shwedagon Temple: with its central golden pagoda and surrounding smaller temples. It was especially pretty just after dark when lots of candles were lit, and lights illuminated the pagoda.
Changing money in Yangon was an experience in itself. After talking to some other travellers I opted to go to the Central Hotel (much higher rates of exchange were offered at the jewellery stands at the Scott market -and even higher again on the streets- however I decided the risk of dodgy dealing wasn’t worth the extra few dollars). It took three people to change the 3x$100 I handed over: the scrutiny with which each of them inspected my notes (including passing them through various checking machines) had me worrying that maybe my notes were not quite perfect after all (particularly when the third guy got out the jewellers magnifying glass!) The process of calculating, double-checking and counting the 47 x 5000 kyat notes that I received in exchange was also quite impressive (complete with automatic note-counting machine).
Exchange rates in Myanmar are a fluid-thing: ‘officially’ the rate is 6.7kyat = US$1 – but this has absolutely no basis in reality. The rate I received was 790kyat = US$1 (on the street I was offered up to 840), US$20 notes would only have been worth 750kyat… highly bizarre given that money is really just paper: $100 notes being worth more than $20 notes doesn’t make much sense to me! The exchange rate seems to moves daily, and 10 days later, the rate had dropped to 750kyat = $US1.
For me, Yangon was a mix of what I’d expected (similar to other parts of Asia, or things I’d read), unexpected contrasts, and things I’d just never thought of:
· In my hotel room I found I had BBC world on TV…
I hadn’t expected this (having heard that the military censored a lot of the
journalism). Apparently satellite TV
channels are now fairly widespread (obviously within a certain segment of the
populace).
·
On the streets were small tables with telephones
– cords stretching across the pavement to the nearest ports. The first I saw made me do a double-take:
this was the Myanmar version of public payphones! Once I’d noticed one, I realised that there
were lots: temporary tables set-up with one or two phones, and more permanent
booths.
·
There are no 7-elevens in Myanmar - and no local
equivalent - which on occasion made finding after-dinner snacks (i.e. chocolate!)
tricky.
·
The men really do all wear longyi (these are
oversized trousers which knot at the front, and look a bit like a sarong). It was quite amusing to see the men walking
down the street re-dressing themselves (it would appear that the knots need to
be re-tied regularly!)
·
Betel nut sellers were everywhere, and blood-red
stained teeth, splatters on the pavement, and filled spittoons (at the temples)
were everywhere – a rather unappealing sight.
·
I was surprised that (unlike many other Asian
countries) the presence of armed police or military was not obvious.
·
It is quite unlike other parts of Asia at night:
the street stalls are in full swing between 6-8pm, but at 8:30 the pack-up
starts, and by 9pm the streets are cleared, and restaurants are closing.
·
Queuing is a foreign concept: on two separate
occasions I was standing ‘in line’ at the supermarket / mini market, only to
find that people just walk around, and place their groceries on the
counter. I discovered that the technique
was to push your shopping as close as possible to the cashier, so that they
would be the next items within her reach.
·
I’m not sure what denomination notes or coins
are supposed to be in circulation; but it would appear that even though items
are priced down to denominations of ’10 (about 1 cent), no one ever has
these. The cynic would say that claiming
‘no change’ was a ploy to make you spend more… but no: in one example I got a
50 kyat discount rather than try to find me change, in another instance I got 3
candies (apparently worth 10 kyat each… and stored within the cashier’s drawer
– so obviously used as ‘currency’ in lieu of cash!
Onwards around the country
Despite the greater expense, I decided to travel around Myanmar by plane (rather than bus or train) – overland travel takes a long time, and I only had 11 days in which to see the country. Despite having ten months to travel, I find I am running out of time… where does it go? I still have so many places I would like to see– and very little time to fit it all in!!
Travelling by plane within Myanmar was relatively easy. There are at least five domestic carriers: Air Yangon, Air Mandalay, Asian Wings Airways, Air KBZ and Myanma Airways. The latter is the junta-owned airline, with a terrible safety record, and is generally avoided (although I think it was still running). Asian Wings and Air KBZ were both new – KBZ is a Myanmar bank; the rich (and clearly well-connected) owner has apparently decided he’d like to add an airline to his empire. The domestic airports around the country were fine, but very basic - small, uninspiring and with few facilities (in Bagan I was starving - having had no breakfast, and discovered that there was no café, snack shop – not even any water on sale!) The upside of the small-scale was there were no check-in queues. It took me a while to catch-on; but I also discovered that it was necessary to confirm flights in advance: on one occasion I arrived at the airport to be told I was transferred to a different airline, and the flight took off 25 minutes ahead of schedule. The next time, I found that my flight was re-scheduled for two hours later! (I heard that Air Mandalay only has two planes, and one was currently grounded… meaning they were trying to cover all their routes with one plane – inevitably resulting in a lot of rescheduling).
The other difficulty I found with air travel was that in many cases the airports were a long way from the cities. Transportation into town was therefore rather expensive for a single traveller, and I hoped it would be easy to share with others. However, I found that while the planes were loaded with foreign tourists, most were travelling by package-tour, and there were relatively few independent travellers.
As I travelled around Myanmar I found that a high proportion of the tourists were older, from continental Europe (esp. German, Italian, Dutch and French) on package tours. It seemed that the commonwealth countries have not traditionally been heading into Myanmar (a British tour guide I met confirmed that up until now, UK companies have been boycotting tourism there to avoid cash flow to the junta). While I met several younger, independent travellers there were few enough of us to be relatively spread-out; and flying wasn’t typically the travel method of choice for the budget travellers.
These challenges make for some interesting experiences and on my arrival into Mandalay airport a local woman helped me to find a share taxi – she even arranged the price so that I was charged the correct amount (not the foreigner’s version!) I shared the 45 minute ride with a young Chinese-Burmese girl, who spoke passable English, (she was working as a translator for a Chinese engineering firm). On other occasions, I did manage to meet some fellow travellers; an opportunity to share costs and enjoy the company of others.
Mandalay
On arrival in Mandalay I acquired the services of a motorcycle taxi to see some of the sights within the town. I am getting to grips with riding by motorbike (though I’m still not keen to drive one) – and the ill-fitting helmet was still some cause for concern.
The Shwe Inn Bin (teak) monastery was a quiet and peaceful place – surrounded by small trees and a few monks doing some washing. In contrast, the Mahamuni Paya is a destination for local Buddhists and foreign tour buses. The Buddha statue contained within the temple is apparently so highly venerated that it is covered in 6 inches of gold leaf. Despite quite busy, I find that Buddhist temples are usually quite relaxed and respectful places (infinitely better than the Sistine chapel at the Vatican!) – Photography is usually allowed, and the atmosphere is generally ‘no fuss’.
In a corner of the Mahamuni complex was a series of bronze Khmer statues (taken from Angkor Wat some centuries ago). Apparently, there is a belief that if you have pain you can pray to the Buddha, and rub the afflicted body part on the statue and you will be cured… having a rather sore foot (which had kept me awake the previous night) I decided to give it a go! I felt rather silly rubbing my foot against the three-headed Elephant statue… but I have to tell you: I didn’t have any further pain after that!
Mandalay was the one place where I saw clear evidence of the military: the huge palace complex (which I didn’t enter, but drove around) had signs in Burmese and English along the lines of “The Tatmadaw and the People will crush those who threaten the union”. My driver told me that the palace was the home of an army family (I wasn’t sure if this meant there was an army base – or whether one of the senior military had a mansion within it’s walls).
The last major sight for the day was Mandalay Hill: a covered walkway up to the hill-top overlooking the town below. The journey is lined with stalls selling cold drinks and snacks, punctuated by a series of temples, and was the ‘haunt’ of an enterprising young woman who was drumming up business for her brother’s taxi service: Pyu-pyu sat in wait for tourists, then walked up the stairs with them (she spoke excellent English, and was training to be a lawyer). It was interesting to talk with someone who spoke more than basic English – and I learned from her that the thanaka (face paint) that nearly all Burmese women wear is for sun-protection, and is a natural product from ground bark. They apply it like a cosmetic – in quite artistic patterns (a little like cricketers apply zinc!) so I’m not sure how much of their face is actually protected… I showed her my tube of chemical-cream (SPF30 sunscreen)… and it appeared that she had not seen anything like it before!
The view from Mandalay Hill was somewhat uninspiring (hazy), but I met James, and spent the rest of the day exploring some of the city streets with him. I found walking through the local streets and the markets more interesting in many ways than the tourist sights. One street had mountains of onions (I read somewhere that the Burmese eat more onions per head of population than anywhere else in the world), on another street we were literally mobbed by children wanting their photos taken – they went a little crazy pushing and shoving to get in front of the lens – and it was really quite difficult to escape! We saw several more piles of the beetles I’d seen on sale in Yangon; I believe they are a snack food (the Lonely Planet description of biting into them, and sucking out the stomach before chewing on the remainder of the bottle did not inspire me to trial!) The people on the streets were really friendly; I got crowned with flowers, and nearly everyone called out “mingalaba” (hello) as we walked past.
My second day in Mandalay I did a tour of the ancient cities by ‘blue taxi’ (small pick-up with bench seats in the back) with four others from the hostel I was staying in. It was a fun day – good company – but in many ways not as satisfying as the day before. It was a very touristy route, and mostly felt much removed from interactions with the local people.
Our first stop was the snake pagoda – it is in the Lonely Planet, but isn’t the ‘standard’ tourist route, so was in many ways more interesting. Three huge pythons live on the altar at this temple, and each day are carried to be bathed (dead skin washed off), dried and fed. The locals (many looking rather terrified) pose to have their photos with these creatures (I wasn’t getting near them!)
Next up was Inwa (Ava) the capital of the Burmese kingdom for 400 years, situated on a small island within the river. The area is dotted with old temples, monastery, remains of the old palace and ruins. The countryside around is very pretty, and we were transported by horse and cart between the ‘key attractions’ (not a particularly comfortable journey on seriously rutted dirt roads).
The third stop was Sagaing – a leafy green area from the river up to the top of the hill dotted with temples. It is supposed to be a pleasant place to while-away a few hours, but we only had enough time to walk up the hill and take in the view (it was a very nice view!
En route to our final destination of the day we got the proper blue-taxi experience: A flat tyre in the middle of one of the road bridges. We stopped on the side of the road, and our driver changed the tyre (he was very adept, and had clearly done it before), but there wasn’t enough air in the tyre, so we had to walk the remainder of the bridge (probably about ½ km into oncoming traffic… fortunately not too busy a road) while the driver went to fill the tyre.
We ended the trip at Amarapura: the world’s longest teak bridge, and a very pretty location to see sunset. The bridge was crowded with tourists, but also with locals walking home from across the bridge, and a lot of young people (it seemed to be a popular evening hang out spot). There were dozens of tourist-carrying boats on the water – giving the place the appearance of a Venetian traffic jam.
Bagan
Next stop… Bagan; the site of over 4000 ancient temples (and ruins).
I caught the boat from Bagan to Mandalay – a pleasant journey down-river, and undoubtedly more comfortable than travel by road. Once again the boat was filled with older European package tourists… so I occupied myself with reading, writing in my diary, and occasionally chatting to one of the young crew members. Lunch on-board the boat was an amusing affair in apparent chaos (not that I could figure out what was going on). We’d had to pre-order fried rice or noodles, so it shouldn’t have been too complex… but the plates seemed to come out (very slowly) one at a time, with crew members running backwards and forwards empty-handed… Being the polite girl that I am, I waited for others to claim their food – then started to wonder if mine would ever make an appearance? I went up to the front to make it clear I was waiting, and after another 20 minutes or so (with no food appearing) the young steward asked me if I’d like to see the captain’s cabin! So… I was taken up-front to sit with the captain for about 30 minutes (I’m pretty sure this was to distract me from my empty stomach!) It was quite fun – though a little awkward, as I couldn’t communicate with the captain. He had a good little stereo set-up with USB stick and remote control device, and I found myself sitting there listening to Westlife: a slightly surreal music choice!!
Sadly, my first experiences in Bagan were not the best: I headed to the Shwezigon Pagoda (the main, active, temple in the middle of Nyaungshwe – the town I was staying in). As I walked in, I was mobbed by three women – one of whom sat me at her souvenir stool… and eventually I caved and bought a bracelet… Stupidly, I thought I could now go see the temple: but no: the other two women now insisted I look at their stalls. I resisted, and said I wasn’t buying anything else – so then they started on the guilt trip “it’s not fair, you gave her lucky money…” I eventually escaped – but the whole experience left me feeling a bit ruffled. Inside the temple (it is spectacular: a shimmering gold zedi/stupa), I met another woman who dragged me into one of the small shrines, then produced some papers – apparently applying gold leaf – and then demanded money: in this instance, I flat out refused.
I think I was most shaken by these events because I hadn’t encountered anything like it elsewhere in Myanmar. Even in the most touristy parts of the ancient cities around Mandalay the sales tactics employed were just hopefully persistent: “you buy?” – “no thank you” – “ok, so you buy?”!! The pressure, demands for money, requests for “present for me?”, guilt-trip techniques and scams were things that I only experienced in Bagan.
Fortunately, Nyaungshwe was redeemed by… food (what else?) The owner of my guest house recommended a local restaurant with some English-speaking staff. I was able to explain that I wanted to try some of the Burmese salads that I had read about. I was served ‘lah pe’ thoh’ (fermented tea leaf salad) and ‘jinh thoh’ (cabbage and ginger salad). Both of these were generously laden with peanuts (you would not want have an allergy in Myanmar – it seems they use them in everything), and the flavours were fabulous. I went back the following night to try some more!
(For reference: the restaurant is Nu Wa Myanmar Food – on the main street in Nyaungshwe, close to ‘restaurant street’)
I spent the following two days in Bagan; opting to explore by bicycle – the only other way was horse & cart (a lot more expensive with just one person). As (those of you who know my cycling history) you would expect, I was rather nervous about committing to tour by bicycle, necessitating (as it did) travel on unknown roads, with traffic, no bike helmet, and a rather clunky old machine (gears had not been invented at the time this thing was constructed). Overall, the cycling was much better than I expected. Bagan is very flat, the weather was not quite as hot as I’d expected, there really wasn’t much traffic on the road (and what there is travels pretty slowly), and a lot of the cycling was off-road on tracks anyway… The hardest part was cycling through soft sand tracks (I frequently had to dismount and walk 50-100m stretches, as the cycling just became too hard).
I had a big (long) first day, but it was certainly impressive! I went mostly to the bigger temples (I figured you need to see them), but also managed a couple of small random ones also. The most popular ones had lines of hawkers outside, selling souvenirs and artworks – the same stuff at every place. Quite often, the prospective vendors will attach themselves and act as guides – most spoke fairly good English, and the information they imparted was often interesting – but I was quite firm that I wasn’t buying! I managed to see 12 temples in one day; they were actually sufficiently different so that I didn’t experience temple fatigue: some were beautiful buildings, some had fantastic views, others had ancient paintings (murals) inside, and all had potential vendors to ‘chat’ to. The big ones had lots of other tourists, but some of the smaller ones were empty. For sunset, I went to Shwesandaw: ‘THE sunset pagoda’ it was ridiculous – about five tour buses parked below, and crowds of tourists on the terraces… but it was very pretty.
By the end of the day I was filthy: COVERED in dust from the road! Despite being out on the bike for about 12 hours, I think I only covered about 25km in distance – so I probably can’t claim to have ‘over extended’ myself!
My second day back on the bike was mixed. I went to some of the smaller temples a little further away; they were quieter which was nice. But I also encountered a number of requests for ‘a present for me? / money?’… and a couple of well-rehearsed sales techniques and scams. The smaller temples are often locked, and require the services of the key master (a local who seems to live next door); usually this person acted as a guide (despite generally not speaking much English), and I was never sure whether I was expected to give money (though I was asked directly on one occasion) – or how much was appropriate.
At Pyathada (another big temple, known for its sunset views) I had the terrace almost to myself in the middle of the day… almost!... There was a group of about 30 tourists from Northern Myanmar (mostly kids and teens), and I became a celebrity model: one brave soul asked if they could take a photo with me – and then all of them wanted in on the action – I think I must have starred in at least 20 snaps with individuals from the group!
Later in the day, I reached a small village with a conveniently located restaurant with cold drinks. A precocious young boy chatted away, entertaining me, and then took me to his friend’s house (a weaving shop) – they didn’t get a sale, but I did have to cough up a ‘present’ for the boy. Just around the corner, I stopped at another temple, only to come out and find I had a flat tyre. I was highly dubious about how this occurred – conveniently there was a guy there who could fix it for me! Next thing I knew; I was back in the village at the weaving shop – and being offered drinks at the restaurant (“No. I have already been!”) I didn’t have many options- other than to pay for my tyre to be ‘fixed’ – though I did at least manage to bargain the price down. After this experience I was a little over-it; so I headed home for a rest before a final sunset excursion (to Buledi – a smaller, quieter temple).
My one regret with hiring a bike was that I wasn’t willing to linger (I didn’t want to cycle home in the dark) – so I missed the final displays of colour in the sky.
Inle Lake
From Bagan, I headed to Heho (airport) then on to Nyaungshwe (the main town accommodating tourists near Inle lake). The road from Heho to Nyaungshwe was one of the worst I have ever encountered – although I think the vehicle I was travelling in (a rather decrepit van) didn’t help matters.
My plan for Inle involved a boat tour of the lake, and a trip to the hot air balloon festival in Taunggyi. Both of these activities required me to ‘find some friends’ (the cost would have been prohibitive on my own). So, I found myself loitering near the reception area of my guest house on my first evening… Pouncing on Anna and Marco when I overheard a discussion about arranging taxis to the balloon festival!.. We shared a very companionable two days, some good food and some memorable experiences.
The first evening, we went to the Aung puppet show in Nyaungshwe: a very impressive display from a third-generation puppeteer; the way he manoeuvred the puppets was really impressive (we had a try after the show: the puppets are really heavy, and have a with a ridiculous number of strings!)
The next day we hired a boat around Inle lake – visiting the Phaung Daw Oo Pagoda, floating villages, craft shops, floating gardens, the zedi (stupas) at Inthein, and the Jumping cat monastery… As well as foreigners, there were a lot of local Burmese tourists (mainly at the pagoda) - in town for the hot air balloon festival which we would attend the next day. The influx of visitor had seriously increased prices – we paid 39,000 kyat for boat hire for the day (roughly three times the usual rate!) Highlights of the boat cruise were:
·
Waving to the other traffic on the lake: boats
of locals transporting supplies, tourists (foreign and Burmese), and monks
being taken to the pagoda.
·
Sharing a lunch with a young group of girls at
the Pagoda – they invited us to try the picnic they had brought: the food was
good, and it was fun to talk to some locals.
·
Seeing the famous ‘one leg rowers’ ( a technique
developed to free their hands for fishing)… and trying to capture them in a
photo (impossible!)
·
Marvelling at the extensive floating gardens:
plantations of vegetables which literally float on the water (I think the depth
of the water was something like 5m, and the floating islands were about 2m
deep?)
·
The ruined stupas at Inthein were quite magical
to wander around: many being overgrown with vines and foliage.
·
The jumping cat monastery was a ‘non’ highlight:
the cats are supposed to be trained to jump through hoops – we only caught the
end of the ‘show’: but it didn’t appear that they were particularly proficient
at this skill (the one I saw was almost aided through the hoop!)
The next day we headed to the balloon festival – near Taunggyi in the hills above Inle lake. This festival attracts thousands of tourists from around Myanmar, and a few foreigners as well. I was not really sure what to expect: though I’d heard all kinds of stories… The balloons are home-made constructions, and are laden with (what our taxi driver called) ‘explosives’ – a.k.a. fireworks. The fireworks are timed to go off after a period, but if there is a problem with launching the balloon then there is a high probability the fireworks will start before the balloon is well-clear of the crowd below (apparently there are serious burn injuries every year). It seems an absolutely insane idea… and ‘explosives’ may well be a more appropriate word to use!
In the early afternoon we explored the area. There was a market street, with lots of food, sweets and cold weather gear (padded jackets etc for the cold evenings in the hills). It was pretty crowded – and we wondered what the evening would be like? The main fields were covered in a huge area of tents (food and stalls), and the balloon area. We watched a few of the day-time balloons lift up into the air: around half of them seemed to catch fire and disintegrate – not really boding well for the explosive-laden ones in the evening!
We headed back into town for a quick dinner at the local markets: a lot of fun as we had no idea what anything was! We eventually sat down at the kiddie-tables (low plastic tables and chairs) with a feast of compressed rice filled with meat, a type of roti with a chickpea dip (we think), and Burmese tea with condensed milk – we enjoyed ourselves, and provided some entertainment for the watching kids as well!
Next up was a procession of candles including some impressive towers and floats. Initially, they were unlit: and we were a little underwhelmed… but then our taxi driver took us further up the route (we really had no idea what was going on, as our driver’s English wasn’t great)… at this stage, the lanterns had now been lit: it was really beautiful. (The procession was only held on this day – the second to last of the festival).
Finally, it was back to the main show grounds. The crowds had now built up to the extent it was difficult to move much more than a shuffle. The three of us agreed that we mustn’t lose each other… and within the first 10 minutes Anna and I managed to go just that: we lost Marco! We spent the next half hour retracing our steps from the morning, and wondering where the logical place to go would be?... Success! (and suitable excitement about being reunited!)
The whole place was like a carnival: food tents, beer tents (and more frequently – whiskey tents; I think there was somewhere between 6 & 10 local whiskey brands). There were also a significant number of gambling tents, and a few carnival rides. The balloons were definitely a distant secondary attraction to the rest of the ‘fun’! (We did see about 5 balloons go up over the course of the evening – several of which seemed to be directing fireworks downwards into the crowd below – we kept well clear!) It was definitely a different perspective on local life – I’d assumed Burmese to be mild and reserved, non-drinkers!
For us, the Ferris wheels were almost the highlight: they have no motors, and are completely activated by man power… This doesn’t mean that there is someone working a wheel like a hamster… it means that young guys climb up through the central spokes of the wheel, position themselves on the outside of several of the baskets, someone at the bottom gets the wheel moving, and the guys use their own body weight to get the momentum going: dropping off as they reach the bottom! No health and safety inspector in sight – CRAZY! J
Time to leave…
On my final day in Myanmar I headed back to Yangon. I arrived mid-afternoon, and didn’t have time for any sightseeing – so instead I went to the post office to send some postcards: a cavernous building with big wooden desks behind metal grills (something from a different era).
In the evening, I went to experience the way the ‘other half’ of Myanmar live. I’d met Alexis when I booked my flights at the travel agent in Yangon; she and her fiancé Peter are living in Yangon. We met for dinner at a beautiful Italian restaurant in a garden setting near the lake. We started with a bottle of Prosecco, followed by dinner with a bottle of Merlot – I think the bill was around $50 per head… nothing compared to a meal in Melbourne, but about ten times the usual tourist fare in Myanmar… and well above all but the best-connected locals. It was a really nice evening, and I am again so lucky to have met so many wonderful people during my travels.
Overall, Myanmar was not exactly what I’d expected:
Tourism is more developed than I’d thought it would be, but with fewer independent travellers than I’d expected. Eleven days was nowhere near enough time to explore – particularly as I think that getting out of the main tourist spots would be a really interesting experience. The military presence was not obvious to me, but the isolation of the country is evident: the vast majority of the people cannot afford to travel overseas, and only know about other countries via TV documentaries. Most importantly: the people were really friendly, I enjoyed my conversations (although usually only at a superficial level due to language difficulties).
