Yangon Archives - Wandering North

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Saying Goodbye to Yangon

I returned to Yangon from Bagan, my trip nearly at an end. I had one and a half remaining days in Yangon before flying to Hong Kong. I had already seen everything I wanted to see in Yangon, so I figured I would just hang out and relax a little before the very long journey home and harsh transition from airport directly to office. I was happy to be back in Yangon. Bagan was magical and Mandalay was fine, but I really like Yangon. I find it so pleasant just to be there.

I stayed at the Backpacker Bed & Breakfast, which was a nice hostel in the centre. It was exactly what I wanted: Lots of travellers to chat with on a pleasant rooftop and very inexpensive. I met people both leaving and about the enter month long meditation retreats, which only reaffirmed my lack of desire to try such a thing. I met solo travelers and duos of all ages. Mostly women. All really nice. I shared my dorm with three pleasant French girls who spoke very little English but were clean and quiet. All good.

After hanging around for a while I went for a walk through Chinatown. I liked the walk particularly because in Yangon the streets are so enjoyable – full of food vendors, pretty buildings, color, and life – but Chinatown as a destination is sort of underwhelming.

But I did stumble across some good street markets and enjoyed the walk.

I stopped for a bowl of soup from a street vendor. I love the street soup in Myanmar. It is fantastic. I had already ordered soup from street vendors there a number of times, so I felt pretty confident. I knew how and what to order, I knew how it would be served (broth and noodles and spices all separate), and I knew roughly what it should cost (about 70c). I sat there, I smiled at the people sitting next to me, I felt superior to tourists who walked by with the obvious look of curiosity and intimidation on their faces about how to order from these unmarked stalls where English was not spoken (intimidation I had felt a week prior). I loaded my soup up with chili sauce and powder and began to eat. I was slurping up the delicious broth and noodles when I slurped too hard apparently because spicy hot broth forced itself into my nasal passages and out my nose. Suddenly my nose was on fire, my eyes watered uncontrollably and slammed shut. I was blind and my face was on fire. I fumbled for one of the rolls of toilet paper they had on the counter to use for napkins but dropped it and it rolled down the hill. I fumbled for another, but dropped it in my soup, which it promptly absorbed. I finally had to blow my nose and wipe my face in my scarf. I tried be cool, even as my face still burned from my nasal soup ingestion, but, had I been able to see, I’m sure everyone at the booth was snickering at me as I walked away. Once the pain subsided, I did think it was hilarious. I was still hungry though so I went to another small street stall a safe distance away and, successfully (and more humbly), had a whole bowl of incident-free shan noodle soup.

I headed back to the big market near the train station, browsed for a bit and then tried a Bumese cigar (not a cheroot, but an actual cigar). It was black and moist and not bad tasting but full of things that I am not sure were tobacco. It had a weird screaming eagle band on it. I didn’t mind it but didn’t bother to bring any back. I smoked it sitting at the ‘No. Coffee in Myanmar’ stand in the market, which did indeed have great coffee as well as a fan. It was a perfect place to avoid the heat and watch market activities.

After that, a bit more walking, and back to my hostel.

One thing that I think is amazing here, and really speaks to the kindness of people, is that most businesses have water pitchers and vessels outside with a tin cup. The purpose? To provide water to people because it is hot and water is vital. No one should have to pay to drink water or suffer from thirst, so they just provide it. I availed myself of this offering many times and was thankful for it.

Back at the hostel I reconnected with a guy I had met earlier in the day; a young fellow from South Africa traveling solo. We decided to check out a rooftop bar that promised to be sort of a club. It had the appropriate setting, music, lights, pricey cover charge, etc, but there was almost no one there. So we just sat and chatted and I had a cigar. Not the party he was hoping for, but I was totally fine with it, not being that keen on clubs to begin with.

The next day was more walking then I decided to see a movie. There was an American horror movie playing called Prodigy and there was air conditioning, so that was good enough for me. Interestingly, they played the national anthem before the movie started and everyone was required to stand in the tiny (maybe 30 seat) theatre. The movie was decent. The popcorn was appalling.

After my movie, I met up with my South African friend and we went to see the world’s largest Buddha, which, as it turns out is not the world’s largest (that is in Myanmar but not Yangon), but it was really big. We then meandered our way to the Shwedagon Pagoda as my friend wanted to watch the sunset and meditate at the pagoda. We didn’t make it there for the sunset, but we watched that from a pretty park next to a lake and ate ice cream.

When we got to the pagoda, I said my goodbye – I had been before and wasn’t interested in meditating, plus, I had a 1am flight to Hong Kong to pack for. I took a taxi back to the hostel.

Myanmar was pretty great. I liked it more than the other countries I have seen in South East Asia. It just had such an easy, friendly vibe, the travel was hassle free, and it was full of beautiful sights. I would even return. But the moment I had little time to reflect because I was on to a day in Hong Kong.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

The Road to Mandalay

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.

My train ticket. I was a little concerned to see a portion of the price allocated to life insurance

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.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Across the River to Dalla

Day two in Yangon was to be a day without an evening, as I was scheduled to take the 5:00 train to Mandalay, but I was determined to pack as much in as possible before then.

I skipped the free breakfast at my guest house and opted to spend about 75c for a bowl of excellent soup at a stall at a street market. A far superior option. I walked around the market taking in the scenes I never tire of: people selling fruits and vegetables (familiar and exotic), fish, meat, flowers. I then spent the next few hours doing more aimless market wandering.

I also walked through this huge indoor market, which had 3 or 4 levels of shops selling clothes, housewares, spices, jade…everything really. I also scoped out the train station for later.

I my plan was to take the short ferry to the other side of the river to Dala or Dalla, a more rural area with villages and more temples. The ferry ride was fun. I found the terminal and the huge crowd of people waiting for tickets (a little less that $4 round trip), but I was ushered to a desk just for foreigners, which was a nice gesture, though it seemed unnecessary, particularly as I was the only apparent non-local on the boat.

The ride was only about 10 minutes but was pleasant and I chatted with a fellow who was on his way home. At the other end I declined the offers for taxis and set out walking, which was very pleasant for a while. I stumbled upon cute houses and picturesque scenes, but after a bit I realized I had no idea where to go, so I flagged down a tuk tuk and hired him to just drive me around.

That was nice:the breeze and just taking in sites that were pleasant to drive by but nothing that was amazing, though I could ask him to stop when I wanted to take some pictures.

I ferried back and had a cigar at the same cigar-friendly bar as the previous day before, which I figured would be my final moment of comfort before my overnight train journey to Mandalay.

Two days in Yangon was enough to see what I wanted to see, though there is certainly more. I am, though, happy to return there before I leave Myanmar. It is a city that I am quite content to hang out in.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

Yangon: Arriving in Myanmar

I’ve been thinking about going to Myanmar for a number of years. The first time I looked into going they still didn’t have ATMs and almost no wifi. Things have changed and I am glad that I came here when I did because I can see it is going to get more developed and more touristy, like its South East Asian neighbours. So far (as I write this I have been here 4 days) I love it here. Interesting and beautiful, so far it does not seem as hectic as parts of Vietnam or as poor as parts of Cambodia. And it feels different. From the thanaka with which so many men and women decorate their faces to the wearing of the longyi to the eating of tea leaf salads, Myanmar seems to have its own feel. Again, these are my first impressions after a short time.

But then again, my first impressions may be mistaken. See my attempt to buy ice cream, below.

I arrived in Yangon (formerly Rangoon) via a long flight from Vancouver to Hong Kong. I had gotten an e-visa ahead of time, so i was through immigration in 5 minutes with no questions. Taxis were plentiful and their prices fair (i didn’t even bother to haggle). It was after midnight as we drove through the streets to my hotel: the Chan Myae Guest House.

I was quite happy with my lodgings, even though it was a sharp 8 floor climb to my room. Simple, but clean and with an excellent location. I was able to walk everywhere. And walk I did for my first day in Yangon. The centre is a delight for strolling with faded and mossy colonial buildings, strings of laundry, and endless street side food vendors.

I took a lot of pictures.

The food vendors are wonderful. I haven’t yet had a restaurant meal here. Tables of women mixing up noodle dishes, soups, salads, fried things, curries, yogurt drinks, tea, and juice stalls. Each one seems to have a specialty and everything looks delicious.

I have had really good luck with the soups. They will combine the ingredients as you direct into your bowl and you can just point at what you want. Then, if they see you are low on broth or noodles or onion or whatever, as you are eating, they will offer top ups. Nothing costs more than $1 (cdn). Plus, i have been going to the ones where the monks are eating, so I can just point at their vegetarian dishes and order that.

I have had one odd culinary experience. It was scorching hot and i was on foot and i thought, “Ice cream. Ice cream would revive me.” So I went to a corner store and bought a vanilla ice cream. I unwrapped it and took a bite and very quickly realized that my ice cream was not vanilla, but DURIAN. I cannot express how shocking it is to expect sweet and creamy vanilla and get instead the intense oniony putrescence of durian.

So I walked and I ate. I went in search of coffee, which was a bit of a mission. This is tea country. There are a few “proper” cafés but they are certainly not in abundance. Twice I aksed for coffee and received some sort of international delights french vanilla bullshit. And twice I flet guilty for thinking that it actually tasted pretty good. I’ll have to turn in my coffee snob card upon return to the Pacific Northwest.

I visited the Sule Pagoda, in all of its glittering splendour. It was magnificent, thought i can now say that gold stupas are ubiquitous here. Nevertheless this was Myanmar stupa no.1 for me, so it was special.

I toured around more on foot, past buildings of note. One street (I forget which one) had rows of book stalls and book shops, so I picked up something for the road.

In the afternoon, before taking on my next pagoda complex, I settled in at the bar at the classically colonial Strand Hotel, which was gorgeous and, most importantly, cigar friendly. Thankfully, it was otherwise empty, so i snuck a selfie or two.

My energies restored, I walked to the Shwedagon Pagoda complex. It wasn’t far from where I was but the 37 degree heat made it seem farther. By the time I arrived, I was hot and tired. I was not too tired, however, to have a secret race again a blonde woman across the street from me also walking to the pagoda. I won. Heat or not, I was still able to appreciate the beauty, but even my eyeballs felt burnt as I took in countless, gleaming gold and white stupas. There were so many people there but many appeared to be locals or visitors from nearby. Nothing I saw in Yangon was overrun with, well, people like me. A few backpackers here and there. The odd group of seniors, but they were few. It was nice.

Perhaps because there are not tons of tourists here, local people are not in the habit of hassling them. No one yells out to get a massage or follows you down the street trying to sell you stuff. Everyone is just pleasant. It isn’t too crowded – even the traffic is organized. Surprisingly for a former British colony, they drive on the right hand side of the street, but the steering wheels are on the right. Motorcycles are banned in Yangon, which may be why the traffic is not crazy.

Somehow I had done all of that by 6:00 pm and on 2 hours sleep. I went back to my room with plans of going out again in the evening, but promptly crashed. It was a great first day in Myanmar.

Tag: Yangon