Day 2 in Myanmar

Sep 19, 2016
4 min read

Waking from a restless sleep I rolled over and fumbled to find my mobile phone to validate the time 8:54 am. I hadn’t slept well due to the location of my room right beside reception, the local bar on the adjacent wall pounding the bass, the pigeons nesting by my window and the alley cats howling up from the streets. Good old Asia brings such a soothing atmosphere! Being a blasé traveler I’ve never been one to wake up at the crack of dawn and fill the day with things to do. I’ve had travel companions like in the past and sure you get to see a lot, but it all blurs into the same same but different genre and to be honest it’s fucking exhausting!

I got myself organised and packed my bag; camera check, scarf check, water check, umbrella check and wallet check. I passed by reception and said not to clean my room, I wasn’t sure about my valuables as there wasn’t a safe and giving them less reason to enter seemed somewhat a solution. The attendant gave a reply of which was a nervous nod and once again I wasn’t sure he comprehended. I smiled and left the building walking past a sleeping man lying on crates on the stair landing. He didn’t budge or twitch, immune to the noises of life around him. I grabbed my camera.... was I guilty of poverty porn as I had heard it described recently? But it was such a great example of everything that is Yangon, I just couldn’t resist. The black and white shot was more emotive then the colour one, I decided as I put my camera back in my bag.

I hailed a taxi from the street and showed him the Shwedagon Pagoda on the map. "4000 Kayt" he said, "Great" I replied and jumped in. A strong stench of mothballs suddenly took over my senses and I spent the 15 minute ride trying not to inhale. I didn’t want to induce a migraine, which usually happened when I was exposed to intense smells.

Arriving at the pagoda I paid the foreigner entrance fee and wrote down a pretend name in the guests booklet, something I liked to do for fun, Gertrude Pumpinickle. The young lady with Thanakha face paint pointed to an image inferring shoes must not be worn. The Burmese wear the traditional face paint to protect their skin from the sun, although many don’t use it to cover their whole face they paint 2 round circles on their cheeks and a stripe across the forehead. Holding my flip flops in my left hand and my camera on the right I followed the green plastic mats that encircled the central pagoda. The Shwedagon Pagoda consists of hundreds colorful temples, stupas, and statues that reflects the architectural era spanning almost a 2,500 years and is said to contain eight hairs of the Buddha, a fact that only adds to its uniqueness.

I lapped the building taking photos from different angles and then decided there were only so many photos I could take of this structure. I walked back down the many stairs past all the cheap tack shops that were selling gold religious bells and statues of Buddhas. Jumping in the taxi I answered the usual question “Where you from?” and decided to head back to the Union Bar and Grill needing some wifi access and a beer. After lunch I messaged some former teaching colleagues and organised to meet for dinner at the House of Memories, the former residence to Aung San Suu Kyi’s father. Apart from the cheezy name the food and atmosphere was good.

Meeting up with friends was a welcome addition to the travels. Choosing Myanmar for this trip was not only a reason to cross another country off my list but a good excuse to catch up with people who I had met over the years. Nancy and Ian are a lovely couple who taught at the British School of Beijing alongside me about 4 years before. I had actually taken over their apartment when they left Beijing for Yangon. Ben also joined us for dinner and he too had been a colleague at the same school. He had just moved to Yangon but was positioned at a different school to Nancy and Ian.

Dinner was lovely and it was great to hear their stories and mishaps of living in a somewhat still under developed country. I couldn’t believe they actually didn’t have mobile phones the first few years because sim cards were hundreds of dollars to buy and to this date they can’t open foreigner bank accounts and thus their monthly pay packet is a bundle of local notes stashed in their cupboard drawers. Another thing I discovered is that as expats they have to leave Myanmar every 10 weeks and re-enter as they can’t get valid work permits. Although their schools accommodate this with a travel allowance it sure is a pain in the ass and something to consider with all of the above if you are considering this country as your next expatriate location.

After dinner I headed back to the hotel for an early night. It was great seeing friends but it wasn’t about to get rowdy with this lot, which I was grateful for. Attempting to stream some Netflix on my laptop was again a failed mission. I don’t know why I thought the wifi would get miraculously better overnight, for god sake Kelly Jean, this is a developing country!