Yangon

13/12/12 to 14/12/12: We had been reflecting on our trip so far, and both agreed that the cultural differences between the various regions of Indochina had felt subtle from place to place, and it was only when looking back that we really realised the variations and how far we'd come. Often when crossing a border you sometimes notice very few differences, but when we think of Bangkok, Ubon, 4000 islands, Phongsali, Luang Prabang, Bac Ha, Hanoi, Saigon and Phnom Penh, then these places and their people are very different from one another.  Upon entering Myanmar however, we immediately felt the difference. Perhaps this was because we flew in from Bangkok, or maybe it was the Indian influence, but Yangon felt nothing like anywhere else we'd been in Asia so far.

We arrived at the airport where our pickup was waiting. All the Burmese men were wearing sarongs, as was our driver. We squeezed (literally) into our cab with a Dutch couple and a 7ft tall German giant. Our taxi was right hand drive, just like the majority of cars here, despite everybody driving on the right, which makes overtaking tricky, but they manage quite well. The driver gave us a whistlestop tour of Yangon, where he pointed out 'St Paul's Cathedral'.

Most hotels in Myanmar are booked in advance, so we emailed a hotel a few days before going. However we were told that they didn't have room but would find us something in a nearby hotel. We got lucky and ended up staying in a brand new hotel. So new in fact, that it wasn't opening until the following day. As a result we had a very nice, clean, modern room but with a smell of fresh paint (luckily this seemed to be better when we returned in the evening). Our host explained that they couldn’t make us a proper breakfast, as the kitchen wasn't finished yet, but that we would get tea, bread and bananas instead which was okay. They were very helpful and nice.

Our next mission was to change our pristine US dollars into Kyat. We went to the bank where we were greeted by some policemen and about ten or twelve dolled up girls. We ordered our currency, were given a cup of coffee while we waited and then given our money (and at a rather decent exchange rate too). The whole thing was much easier than we’d expected.

We walked around downtown Yangon, soaking up the atmosphere. The centre was bustling with markets, street stalls and people riding a different type of cyclo, a bit like a bicycle with a side car, used for either carrying stuff or taxying people around. Oddly, we didn't see a single motorbike (unlike the rest of Asia). "How do they carry their flowers, wardrobes, watertanks and chickens around", I hear you ask. Well, the answer is the cyclos, but Yangon has many more cars than other countries we’d visited. 

On the street floor there were hundreds of red stains, caused by the men chewing Betel, which is available from small stalls on street corners and usually served wrapped in a banana leaf along with a white paste. Betel chewers are identifiable by the bright red lips and mouths. The women had a unique look due to a dull yellow paste they rub on their faces to protect them from the sun.

Everything was an interesting mix of Indian and Oriental. Noodle soup still featured, but suddenly there were samosas, bhajis, pakoras and lady’s fingers mixed in. The British influence was also apparent, a few colonial buildings existed, most of which had weeds growing on them, but this added to the character and gave the place a stuck in time feel. Also, people were deep-frying everything in batter (on a par with the Scots). Especially excellent were the potato crisps, cooked fresh in front of us. Tea is everywhere, tea stations, tea shops, and you get milk with it in most places. Oh, and we later found out that 'St Pauls' was actually St Mary's, which made more sense as it looks nothing like St Paul's. 

In the evening we went to a Beer station, where we took an ABC stout, which was surprisingly good. The locals were watching football (Thailand vs Malaysia). Just after half time there was a power cut, which are frequent in Myanmar. In no time, the candles came out, which added to the ambience of the place, but the poor guys had to miss the second half. We went to a biryani restaurant later where we took a chicken biryani and went to bed the fullest we had for weeks.

Early next morning we woke to the sound of the market outside our hotel. We heard the traders shouting (or singing) for business and we tried to guess what they were selling from their distinctive banter. For the rest of the day we explored the blindingly bright gold Shwedagon Pagoda and walked around the lake (where there was ‘Snow Wonderland’). On the way we had a very nice Dhal soup with samosas in it. We had a browse at some of the antiques on sale at the market and saw an odd bridge with a TV screen on it showing football highlights. We thought it was an odd place to put it, at one of the busiest intersections in town.

That afternoon we made our way to the bus station, an hour out of town, for our night bus north to Bagan.