Hello friends and family,
It has been an exiting week so far. After my long stay in bangkok trying to obtian my visa for Myanmar I took the plane on the 25th of march, direction Yangon; the capital of Myanmar, leaving the wonderful Noi behind, that I have met 1 month ago. I arrived in the airport around 8 o'clock in the morning and took a taxi to the centre. I spended my first day in Yangon in total darkness as I had only slept 3 hours in the last 48 hours. I woke up early the next day. Took a shower as soon as the power was turned back on, had my breakfast and left the hotel to start exploring the city. Yangon was a bustling place and a totally different sight from the other cities I had visited. I came to realise that india wasn't that far away. Yangon looked like a gateway between india and south-east Asia, creating an interesting mix of different cultures. After a few km off walking I was being bothered by a 13 year old hindoe boy, trying to sell his postcards. He looked like a nice bright kid, full of life, so I made a deal with him, that if he showed me around a little bitt I would buy some off his postcards. We walked from market to market talking about his life. He was the middle one off a family consisting out of 8 childeren. His mother had to take care of everything while his father was spending his time in jail. To make money for the family and for school he walked the streets trying to sell his postcards. After our walk we encounterd Sule Paya, the central pagoda in Yangon. I thanked my little guide for his services and handed him a 1000 Kyat note and a bag of chips. He gave me a big smile and thanked me, then dissappeared in the masses.
The Sule Paya was a rather dull sight so i decided to explore the city a little bit more, enjoying the chaos overlooked by worn-out english style buildings. As i was near my guesthouse I was approched by an indian looking guy, offering a cheap busticket to Mandalay. Sometimes I have these weak moments where instead off telling them to fuck off, I just play along a little bitt, only to see what is going to happen. The busticket looked like a fair deal so I took it. Next thing he offered was to exchange dollars in to kyat. he offered 1150 Kyat for one dollar. I knew that was the best deal i could get so i followed him. we entered a small, concrete, dirty looking building. 2 by 5 meters, where i was placed between two old men in front off a desk, waiting for his contact to come. As the contact arrived I was led up a metal old stair. At the top there was a sign that read Mandala guesthouse, used as a cover-up for the illegal transfers upstairs. the indian looking guys contact was a long skiny fellow, wearing a dirty longy and dirty shirt. Under his shirt he showed my a big pile off money. I showed him my 100 dollar bill, he seemed satisfied so he gave me the big pile off money for me to recount. Next he offered me to exchange baht for illegal import from Thailand. we took a taxi to my Guesthouse. It seemed a bitt dodgy but because the traffic often gets jammed i would have an easy escape if something went wrong. But everything went smooth, we exchanged the money, had a tea on the street and off they went.
Again on my own i decided to do some more walking around. It wasn't long before an old man stopped me for a converstation. He wore a blue longy and his long hair was but together in a knot, making him look like a character from some old kung fu movie. I liked him instantly and we agreed to meet up later that day for some sightseeing. As the temperature was getting higher I felt my throat getting dry so I stopped for a drink in a local open air tea shop. I ordered a locally brewed lemonade when I was approached by a middle aged Burmese woman offering her bowl of rice curry. Never turn down a free meal i thought so I accepted her offer generously. She started talking to me in Burmese, giving me little winks and smiling broadly. She wanted to take me to her boat for an evening cruise on the river. Meanwhile 5 Muslim men where laughing there heart out, while this woman was hitting on me. I knew I had to escape so I finished my drink quickly, paid my bill and continued my way.
As it got close to 3.30 I went to my hotel where I was to meet my guide. He was early and was waiting for me in the lounge. He had the plan to take a ferry across the river for some sightseeing out of the city. We went on foot trough the city, uncle Khiang holding me close to him, telling about the old architecture of Yangon. after 1 hour we reached the pier to take the boat. we pushed our way trough the masses to jump on an old 3 level ferry boat. After 10 minutes we reached the other side making our way trough the crowd to take a riskja. These are bicycles with sidecar, in Myanmar the sidecar has one front seat and one rear seat. I took place in the front seat where I was able to talk to my young driver. We rode on the bumpy road when we encountered two Myanmar girls driving on another riskja. They where waving at me, yelling hello and giving there most beautiful smile only in a way Asian women can smile. My driver was in good shape so we chased after them. we left them behind as uncle Khiang wanted to stop at some pagoda. As the sun was setting down we sat on the cool floor of the temple where he told my the story of the saint monk who used to live in the temple; his remains covered now in gold, laying in a coffin that was placed on an altar right in front of us. As the night almost had fallen we continued our way to a house further down the road to visit a family. One of the children was the 14 year old boy Tarin, who wanted to practice his English. When class was over we took the ferry back to the city, had some rice curry with chicken. Feeling utterly tired I said goodbye to uncle, took a pickup to my hotel and fell asleep in total silence.
The next day I took the bus to Bago. After some difficulties trying to get a bus I was able to jump on a local bus. As the bus was fully booked they gave me a place next to driver. Cramped between the window and the two bus helpers I arrived Bago two hours later , safe but with a hurting back. In the bus station I met my new guide for the day. A friendly 33 year old motorbike driver. I think I made his day, because of the trouble they had a couple of months ago tourists seem to avoid coming to Myanmar. For him that meant a lot of less income as I was his first foreign costumer in the last two weeks. Anyway, we dropped my back in some dirty looking hotel and started our trip of pagoda hopping, sneaking inside Pagodas to avoid entrance fees that go to the government. After a long, hot day we settled down in a local bar and I had my first taste of Myanmar beer, which wasn't a bad. Later that day my guide fixed me a bus that drove to Mandalay. We said goodbye and I was on my way again. As the bus took several stops during the long way I met a young man who lived in Yangon. We drank some tea together. He was going to Manadalay for work. several yars ago he was able to stay in Singapore for work and getting his degree in IT. As he was not able to get get a permanent working visa he was forced to return to Myanmar. Obliged to stay in Myanmar his capacities went to waste and he was now getting fucked by his government and multinationals. Tough he was one of the lucky ones. We chatted a while and he insisted on paying for my food and helping me out for the passport check when we switched states. Feeling a little bit guilty I accepted his offer. The night passed away smooth as I was able the get some sleep. We arrived in the city of Mandalay early in the morning. I said goodbye to my friend and took a motorbike to the guesthouse.
After a short sleep I met my new guide, Thanzin. a 25 year old Riskja driver who was willing to drive me to Manadalay hill to see the sunset. As things go I was a little bit unlucky that day. I smashed my phone under the riskja and later that day I broke my camera as well. Because I didn't wanted to travel without a camera for this trip , we spended the next 2 days trying to obtain money to buy a good camera. Getting money in Myanmar isn't an easy jobs as there are no ATM's and all the foreign banks fled the country in 2003. The only way to obtain money now is to go to a big hotel and get money with your visa card, but you gave to pay around 30% commission to do so. With pain in my heart I went to one off these hotels, got my money and went to buy a camera.
later that day Thanzin and me had our last beer at the riverside when we decided it wasn't time to part yet. We made the plan that we would take a motorbike and drive all the way to Kakku and back, About 300-350 kilometers from Manadalay. We rented a motorbike for 6 days and took off the next for a risky journey trough the mountains. It would become one of the best 6 days I had spent traveling, but as my mail is getting to long and boring I will keep that story for next time.As it got close to 3.30 I went to my hotel where I was to meet my guide. He was early and was waiting for me in the lounge. He had the plan to take a ferry across the river for some sightseeing out of the city. We went on foot trough the city, uncle Khiang holding me close to him, telling about the old architecture of Yangon. after 1 hour we reached the pier to take the boat. we pushed our way trough the masses to jump on an old 3 level ferry boat. After 10 minutes we reached the other side making our way trough the crowd to take a riskja. These are bicycles with sidecar, in Myanmar the sidecar has one front seat and one rear seat. I took place in the front seat where I was able to talk to my young driver. We rode on the bumpy road when we encountered two Myanmar girls driving on another riskja. They where waving at me, yelling hello and giving there most beautiful smile only in a way Asian women can smile. My driver was in good shape so we chased after them. we left them behind as uncle Khiang wanted to stop at some pagoda. As the sun was setting down we sat on the cool floor of the temple where he told my the story of the saint monk who used to live in the temple; his remains covered now in gold, laying in a coffin that was placed on an altar right in front of us. As the night almost had fallen we continued our way to a house further down the road to visit a family. One of the children was the 14 year old boy Tarin, who wanted to practice his English. When class was over we took the ferry back to the city, had some rice curry with chicken. Feeling utterly tired I said goodbye to uncle, took a pickup to my hotel and fell asleep in total silence.
The next day I took the bus to Bago. After some difficulties trying to get a bus I was able to jump on a local bus. As the bus was fully booked they gave me a place next to driver. Cramped between the window and the two bus helpers I arrived Bago two hours later , safe but with a hurting back. In the bus station I met my new guide for the day. A friendly 33 year old motorbike driver. I think I made his day, because of the trouble they had a couple of months ago tourists seem to avoid coming to Myanmar. For him that meant a lot of less income as I was his first foreign costumer in the last two weeks. Anyway, we dropped my back in some dirty looking hotel and started our trip of pagoda hopping, sneaking inside Pagodas to avoid entrance fees that go to the government. After a long, hot day we settled down in a local bar and I had my first taste of Myanmar beer, which wasn't a bad. Later that day my guide fixed me a bus that drove to Mandalay. We said goodbye and I was on my way again. As the bus took several stops during the long way I met a young man who lived in Yangon. We drank some tea together. He was going to Manadalay for work. several yars ago he was able to stay in Singapore for work and getting his degree in IT. As he was not able to get get a permanent working visa he was forced to return to Myanmar. Obliged to stay in Myanmar his capacities went to waste and he was now getting fucked by his government and multinationals. Tough he was one of the lucky ones. We chatted a while and he insisted on paying for my food and helping me out for the passport check when we switched states. Feeling a little bit guilty I accepted his offer. The night passed away smooth as I was able the get some sleep. We arrived in the city of Mandalay early in the morning. I said goodbye to my friend and took a motorbike to the guesthouse.
After a short sleep I met my new guide, Thanzin. a 25 year old Riskja driver who was willing to drive me to Manadalay hill to see the sunset. As things go I was a little bit unlucky that day. I smashed my phone under the riskja and later that day I broke my camera as well. Because I didn't wanted to travel without a camera for this trip , we spended the next 2 days trying to obtain money to buy a good camera. Getting money in Myanmar isn't an easy jobs as there are no ATM's and all the foreign banks fled the country in 2003. The only way to obtain money now is to go to a big hotel and get money with your visa card, but you gave to pay around 30% commission to do so. With pain in my heart I went to one off these hotels, got my money and went to buy a camera.
Until next time
Ben
