There are various ways to get from Yangon to Mandalay. Car. Bus. Boat. Plane. Train. I opted for the slowest way: the train. I did a lot of reading about the train beforehand and while many said it was great to be able to see the countryside, the general consensus was that it was slow, unreliable, and uncomfortable. I agree it was slow, and it did take longer than scheduled, but it was an excellent experience.
I walked to the train station, which is very central, for my 5pm departure.
The train has the usual classes and I went for the sleeper option, given that it was an overnight train: forecasted to leave at 5:00 pm and arrive in Mandalay at 7:00 am. In fact we arrived at 9:30 am.
The sleeper car had four bunks and I was sharing it with a family of three from Portugal. I’m sure they were not thrilled to share their space with a stranger, but they were pleasant. I had been allocated one of the top bunks, which was fine for sleeping, but it gave me no widow access and no ability to even sit up, so I spent most of my waking hours in the dining car.
The dining car was awesome. It was all local guys, save for one local woman traveling with a monk. They served water, soda, beer, and a surprising array of food, including at least one vegetarian dish of fried noodles and vegetables. The windows were open and, amazingly, smoking was allowed. I was in heaven. I lit up a small cigar at first and no one complained, so I proceeded to smoke two large cigars, while I watched the scenery pass by. I have always wanted to smoke on a train but figured that time had gone. It made the ride not only pleasant, but splendid.
They played music in the car – Burmese pop songs – and often the servers would sing along, which was also true when a Burmese version of “Eye of the Tiger” came on. I joined in periodically. I was joined at my table for a couple hours by a local guy who spoke decent English so we chatted.
Throughout the ride, people would walk the length of the train selling bananas, chips, water, and various snacks.
The scenery was mostly rural, though still punctuated with gold stupas.
About an hour after dark, I settled into my bunk, which was comfortable enough. They provided a pillow and sheet. The car was not air conditioned but there was a fan and the windows opened, though the ticket taker advised us keep the windows and door locked at night. The ride was bumpy, but that is to be expected for a poorly maintained colonial rain line. It was not, however, so bumpy that I couldn’t sleep. I slept fine, save for when we reached a station; when, each time, as far as I could tell, our train collided with another train.
I awoke early and went back to the dining car where I warmed myself with some tea and watched the sun come up as people tilled the soil with oxen.
The last three hours of the trip did pass slowly as I kept expecting that our arrival was imminent. Had I known the length of the actual trip I would have been less impatient at the end. But the approach to the city was interesting as it grew more populated. The houses were different. Sort of wicker looking with geometrical patterns.
Finally, we arrived at the station with little fanfare, but it was the final stop so when everyone else was getting off, I too took my leave of the train and stepped out into the bustle of the central Mandalay station.
I am so glad I took the train. I don’t think any other transport would have been so pleasant and interesting. No misadventures, just a great ride. And, yes, I did listen to Frank Sinatra singing “The Road to Mandalay” more than once to mark the journey.
