Yangon

At about 6pm, the bus dropped us off in a miserable, raining Yangon and as usual there were a group of taxi drivers waiting to pounce at the door of the bus. After checking on our phone map we realized that the bus station could hardly be classed as Yangon as it would take around an hour to drive into town from where we were. We were quoted 17,000 (10 pounds) by most of the taxi drivers, and when we said the most we would want to pay is 10,000, we were shown in the direction of a shared taxi. We squeezed in the back seat with another passenger, while an old woman sitting in the front gave us a very distasteful look. When we started driving, she ferociously started talking Burmese with the driver, although it then became obvious what she was talking about when the only words that came from her mouth in English were ‘foreigner in car’. When I smiled at her and acknowledged that I understood that the conversation was about us, she looked even more displeased and turned her nose away (I know we look like dirty travelers but we do still try and maintain a level of hygiene, I didn’t think we were that bad!) and blanked us for the rest of the journey.

We were recommended a hotel in Yangon with the very sophisticated name ‘Beauty Land’ (Best said in a Geordie accent) and even though there were no pageant girls strutting around in ball dresses and twirling batons when we arrived; the room was a reasonable standard. We did have to pay a bit more for it though at $28. It had A/C, ensuite bathroom and a TV but with only one English Channel, which played lots of news programs and short documentaries promoting everything Myanmar. We set about transforming the room into a launderette, washing clothes in the shower and draping the clothes around the room. Deciding we needed to search for dinner, we managed to find some street food with childrens sets of table and chairs. The ‘waiter’ was very proud of his bland, oily meat with oily rice and kept hovering around us to check that we liked it- to which we responded with lots of ‘mmmmm’ noises. At least it was cheap.

A family on the street we stayed

We awoke the next day and went downstairs for our included breakfast and were treated to a feast of bananas, mango, papaya, toast, eggs and pancakes. The first thing on our list of things to do was to get the next, much anticipated installment of our rabies vaccines. When we had looked up the nearest health clinic to the hotel, we managed to find an address which turned out to be on the fourth floor of a nearby shopping centre. Stranger things have happened. After a bit of hunting, we managed to find the shopping centre, which was western in both style and prices. We went up the escalator to the second and third floors, and then the escalator stopped. There was no way of getting further up, and all the signs listed items up to the third floor. I’m not sure who was having a laugh with the westerners, possibly the grumpy old lady in the taxi, but luckily we also had the address of the nearby hospital which seemed a bit more plausible.

We found the hospital with not too much difficulty, and after a bit of wandering through various departments we stumbled across a sign on the wall which said ‘Rabies Vaccine’ in both English and Myanmar. After a short victory dance, we took a photo of the sign and proceeded to flash it to everyone we could see, and were soon directed to the Accident and Emergency department, which looked pretty empty. We were then sat on a bench, a nurse opened a box and took two needles out, and we were done within two minutes. After expecting something a lot more of a challenge, this was a bit of an anticlimax. At least we would probably have to pay an extortionate amount for such a quick service. However, when we asked about payment we were told ‘No charge’. After checking a few times that this was definitely correct and receiving the same answer, we skipped away very happily (and quickly in case they changed their minds). After expecting the hospital trip to take a lot longer than this, we had a whole afternoon free, which we spent wandering around the streets and killing time by loitering at the many tea stalls scattered along the pavement. Unfortunately for me, that evening I was struck with another ailment, in the form of a stabbing face and jaw pain on the right side of my face, which kept me awake most of the night.

The only chain store we saw and it hasn't quite finished yet- We arrived just in time!

Local gin for about 50p, I couldn't resist buying some!

The following day we decided to try the tour of the other side of the river which had been recommended by the Australian couple in Mawlamyine, despite the fact that I was tired and in pain with my jaw and the only relief from the pain seemed to be when I had lukewarm water in my mouth (which Jonno found hilarious and continued to remind me how hilarious it was every few minutes). Still, we walked over towards the ferry crossing and were taken past the queues of locals and shown to the ‘foreign’ office who proceeded to charge us about ten times what it seemed that the locals were paying, and we were directed onto the ferry. Immediately we were pounced on by a guy who said he could take us around the area in his trishaw (a bicycle with attached seat in a sidecar form). Fortunately, we had been told that a good price for this cycle tour would be 7,000 kyat for both of us, so armed with this knowledge told this tour guide that this was the price we were willing to pay and would not be paying more than this. His response was- no problem, 3,500 each for half an hour. Feeling pleased that we had got away with the deal we wanted and no conflict, we happily followed the guide off the ferry and over towards his trishaw. While here, we were joined by another man with a trishaw and were told that it was illegal to have two foreigners on one trishaw but seeing as we had already agreed the price we were still happy with this.

On the trishaws in our attractive waterproofwear

 The tour took us around the local area and villages, which was quite a bit different from the other side and the main city of Yangon, this area had been hit by a cyclone in 2008 and had still not been able to rebuild everything, they had not got the wealth or resources to do this quickly. We were taken to one of the local pagodas first, then to the fisherman’s area, and a local village. When we arrived at the village there were groups of small children who were excited and wanted to walk with us and hold our hands- I am not sure if this was a tourist trap or if the children were genuinely excited by us but the guide then mentioned that we could get a donation of rice for the families that lived here, so we agreed to go and have a look. We were taken to a warehouse with huge bags of rice which had clearly been prearranged, and were told one bag was $50. We explained that we didn’t have that much money on us, we just had enough for a small donation and the guide said ‘No problem, you give some money and the next person will have to pay less’, but we weren’t convinced by the story. 

The fisherman's area, it did seem pretty bleak

The beautiful children from the village

I gave them polos and they were not quite sure what to make of them

After this, we were taken to another temple, but realized that the tour was taking a lot longer than we had agreed and it was coming up to 2 and a half hours. The guides had not said anything, so either they were being very nice and giving us a long tour for our money or they might try and get some more money out of us. So we thanked them for the tour but asked if we could return to the ferry, and they agreed. We got off the trishaws and straight away the guide told us that because the tour had been three and a half hours long it would be 25,000 kyat for each of us- definitely not what we had agreed to. We told him that even though it had been longer than what we had agreed on, it was less than 3 and a half hours and he should have discussed this with us first anyway. We offered him double what we had agreed- 15.000 and told him that we wouldn’t pay any more as we had not agreed to it. However, he was not happy with this and continued to demand 50,000, which resulted in a stand off where he would not take any money unless it was the amount he asked for. This lasted for a painful fifteen minutes until another trishaw driver came to ask us what was happening, we explained the situation and he told us if we paid 20,000 he would talk the angry guide down (who was now sitting on the floor having a strop). Accepting that this was probably going to be the best solution, we gave 20,000 to the mediating trishaw driver and walked away, feeling cheated and unsatisfied which was a shame because it had been a great experience.

After arriving back at the other side of the river, feeling annoyed and still in pain with my jaw, we decided to try and find something relaxing to do and found an address for a cinema which supposedly screened western films, however when we reached the cinema the only western film they had on didn’t appeal to us, so we continued to walk around the city. We walked through the Chinatown area of Yangon, which had lots of street bars and food stalls with bits of unrecognizable meat and fish on skewers, which strangely enough did not appeal to us, and instead we stuck to the standard, bland Myanmar noodle soup.

The following day, the pain in my jaw was still there and I had decided it was bad enough to warrant a doctor’s visit. We managed to find a health centre that spoke enough English, but had a long queue out the front of the building. Fortunately for us (possibly because we are white) we were taken straight past all of the queues and directly upstairs to a doctor waiting conveniently in an empty room. After a quick checkup and not much explanation, I was written up a prescription and told to collect the drugs from downstairs, one of which turned out to be an abortion pill. I assumed that the medication had some other purpose as well as to terminate a non-existent pregnancy (At no point did the doctor check I wasn’t pregnant and if I was that I didn’t want to keep the child- it could have led to a distressing situation), and started taking the drugs.

We had also heard that there was a train around Yangon which we could take to see the surrounding villages and countryside. The central train station was easy to find, and after a bit of searching for the ticket office we were herded into an area with other white people and told to wait. About 20 minutes after the train was due to leave, a man from behind the ticket office counter sprang into action, beckoning all of us to follow him and twirling the umbrella he had in his hand in all sorts of ways like a baton. We went up and down stairs and crossed tracks to keep up with this pied piper man, until we reached a platform with a rickety old train and were ushered into one of the carriages. A few moments later, the train pulled away and we were off. If you don’t mind being thrown from side to side for three hours then this is a worthwhile experience, it was a nice way to see the outskirts of this busy city and some of the smaller villages, markets and workers in paddy fields, I feel I didn’t appreciate it enough as the abortion pills had not yet kicked in so I was still nursing my painful jaw.

MIND THE GAP

Train rules: No smoking, littering or kissing

A market set up at one of the stations

A manual level crossing, I think Ashtead station would benefit from one of these

One of the main places to go and visit in Yangon is the famous Shwe Dagon Pagoda, and even though we resented paying the $6 per person entry fee, we decided that it would be silly not to go there, on every website it is the number one thing to do in Yangon and it is a pilgrimage site for Buddhists all over Myanmar. So we got off the Yangon train a stop early to get to the Pagoda.

When we reached the Pagoda, it didn’t seem like much from the outside. We had to follow the sign for the special ‘tourist’ entrance (where they can charge you money to get in, the locals were free) which then led to four or five escalators up to one of the gates. Even though we had seen a few Pagodas in Myanmar by this time, this one was by far the biggest and most impressive. There was a massive Paya at the centre, surrounded by a whole complex of temples and shrines dedicated to Buddha, and wherever you turned there were more shrines that emerged.

A 360 degree view inside the pagoda, you can tell by the strange sets of twins walking around 

 The only criticism I do have though was that it was raining and the floor was made of marble, and with bare feet this did not make for easy walking. As we carefully shuffled towards some of the sights, a tour guide approached us and asked us if we would like a guide, to which we said no thank you- we didn’t want to spend any more money in the Pagoda. A few minutes later, another two men approached us very nervously and in broken English, explained that they had just got their tour guide licence but they needed to practice their tour in English and would we mind if they practiced with us. Me and Jonno looked at each other with suspicious eyes- after our experience the previous day we were suspicious it may cost us more than we would want to pay. But after we asked and they confirmed there was no charge, we dubiously agreed. They took us to a few parts of the complex and explained some of the history and significance of parts of the Pagoda, which wasn’t easy to understand all the details due to their level of English and that they weren’t sure on all the facts either, there was lots of giggling and prompting each other, but we got the jist of it and it was more information than no guide which we had planned. It got to the end and we braced ourselves for a request for a ‘donation’ but they were happy enough just to practice with us and we had gotten away with a free tour, bonus! 

Our amateur tour guides

He got style

We then walked around on our own for a while, and went to visit our special ‘corner’ which wasn’t even a proper corner. Apparently the day of the week you are born on is significant in Buddhism- it gives you a dedicated creature. You can then go to a temple, find the statue of your creature and give it a wash for luck. Around the Pagoda was dotted Monday to Sunday corners, with Wednesday split into two as the Buddhist calendar has eight days. Anyway, we went to Friday corner for Jonno and Saturday corner for me, and cleaned the funny looking statues that had probably had a few thousand washes already that day. We also went to find ‘Buddha’s footprint’ which was only to scale if Buddha was Hagrid.

Not quite to the scale of a regular persons footprint

Its Friday, Friday, wash your statue for Friday

During our search of things to do in Yangon, we came across a puppet show that had the most amazing reviews, it seemed like it would be a shame to miss it. So with just about enough time to spare, we power walked from Shwe Dagon Pagoda to the puppet show, called Htwe Oo. And it definitely didn’t disappoint. The room was tiny and there was only 6 of us in the audience which made it seem cosy and personal. The owner started the show by explaining that puppet shows used to be a popular form of entertainment in Myanmar, with shows lasting from sunset until sunrise the following day. However, the tradition has mostly died out and most puppet shows are put on more for tourists than locals. There are only three of the original puppeteers left from the traditional era in Myanmar, one of which was at this puppet show and was 84 years old. The show was made up of 2-5 minute sets which told stories of people, animals and Buddhism, and the puppets were beautifully made with amazing costumes. The puppeteers were also very skilled, and could make the puppets do intricate dances and backflips, although in some of the fighting scenes they thought the best effect was to throw the puppets into each other which looked quite funny. Anyway, it was a great experience and I would definitely recommend it to anyone visiting Yangon.

The puppets are all made in great detail, in proportion and fully equipped!

Eyebrows inspired by the great Richard Batey himself

Pretending i'm a professional

We had originally planned to leave Yangon the next day for a town 2 hours away called Bago, where we had got mixed reviews about- some people said it was lovely with beautiful temples, other people said there was not much there. However, during dinner on that evening I had got a text through on my Myanmar SIM card which said that it was the first international day of yoga in 2 days time- 21^st June, and there was a yoga event being held in Yangon. This sounded like it could be interesting, so we decided to stay for another two days so we could go and see what the event was about, and skip Bago.

We had a day to kill the following day and fortunately or unfortunately our hotel was right next to a road full of fancy camera shops. Jonno already had a chunky camera with a good zoom, but he had been complaining about it for a while that it wasn’t good enough- a similar situation to the laptop, he needs to have a good gadget that does complicated things far beyond what I am bothered about. And after he had spent an hour looking doe-eyed through camera shop windows, his mind was made up that he could not function in everyday life until he had a fancy camera. So we reckoned that because we had brought a wad of dollars with us and there were plenty of ATM’s around, Jonno was allowed a technology treat and could get himself one. So the first half of the day was spent in search for the perfect camera. After a bit of haggling where we returned to a shop that we had been to a few days before and they had quoted us a much lower price, a different person working in the shop quoted us another and we said we would only take it at the other guy’s price offer, and Jonno had got himself a shiny new toy- cue some amazing national geographic style pictures from here on! The next hour or so consisted of Jonno taking lots and lots of pictures of nothing in particular- there was about 50 of one cup of tea, until it began to rain.

Such a beautiful cup of tea, taken by an exquisite camera

 We retreated back to the hotel to wait for the rain to die down, which took a good few hours, and then went to go and find a lovely travel agent lady who had helped to translate at a street food stall a few days before to book our bus tickets to our next destination; Bagan. After this was sorted, we went out in search of dinner, and the street food place we chose served us noodle soup with ‘chicken’. This turned out to be some strange looking rubbery tubes, definitely not a part of a chicken that I would recognize. Jonno’s stomach wasn’t too keen on them either and made him feel pretty ill the next day.

The following morning we were up early to get a taxi to the Yoga festival- I was expecting a hall full of stalls and various classes happening to join in with, and a chance to talk yoga with lots of different people. We arrived there and were shown through to the seating area- it turned out that it was more of a spectator event for various yoga classes from around Yangon, and speeches from various ministers of health and wellbeing, with most of the audience being groups of schoolchildren. After about 20 minutes of watching the mass of yoga classes in white polo shirts do some gentle stretches, I became too agitated (I was so ready to get my yoga on, watching it wasn’t going to satisfy me) and after checking with a confused looking steward, I made my way down to the ‘performance area’ and found a spare mat on the side to join in with the action. However, it wasn’t easy to blend in as I wasn’t in the white polo shirt uniform that the other hundreds of people were in, but I carried on regardless until a member of the organization team became too embarrassed and handed me a white polo shirt to put on.

Before

After camouflage

 I then took part in a very unsatisfying yoga routine, before having to sit and listen to the speeches until I could sneak away. As we left the building, we were each given a free yoga DVD which was in Burmese so was pretty useless anyway, and had an odd introduction, see the video below.

We got the train back to the hotel, and sat around in the communal room to wait until we had to leave for our overnight bus, with Jonno’s stomach still wasn’t happy from the random animal parts it had to digest. We had been told by reception that there were public buses we could take from nearby to the main bus terminal to save on the expensive hour’s taxi ride there, so we went in search of the bus stop. The bus stop itself wasn’t difficult to find, but all the signs on the buses were in Burmese and each bus driver we asked just pointed to the bus behind. After five or six buses, eventually one told us that they would not accept us with our bags unless we paid 1,000 kyat each (About 60p). This was still a far better deal than a taxi so we paid the extra and sat ourselves on the bus. When we reached the bus terminal it was huge and scattered down many different streets, luckily we found lots of helpful people to point us in the direction of our bus. When we got on the bus we were pretty impressed- there were huge soft blankets for every seat, the seats moved apart from each other so that the aisle was narrowed but you had more room, and at the food and toilet stop we were given toothbrushes, a mini toothpaste and face wipes. However, an overnight bus is still not the place to get a full night’s sleep and at 4.30am we were awoken and told we had arrived in Bagan.