Burma Bound

A searing red sunset one on side and a golden full moon on the other. Very few lights twinkling below, quite unlike flying into other large cities.

The gleaming white airport was crowded with people, we all had to line up to clear immigration in one of the three sections, diplomats, foreigners and Myanmar – each queue was as dense as the other.

Once through I established the going rate for a taxi and got my ride into town in a very old Toyota Corolla – many parts were missing and the car rattled and coughed its way through the streets of Yangon.

Passing the Shwedagon Paya is a memory that I hope will always stay with me. The huge golden stupa gently lit with the huge golden moon gleaming in the background. Where am I exactly, I feel as though I’ve been transported to a place in time rather than just a place.

After finding a hotel I wandered out into the streets. It was about 8.30pm. Children were playing, men were playing, everyone was out in the streets. At the many food stalls along Mahabandoola Road, groups of men were enjoying their meals, or just sitting around drinking tea.

The city was vibrant, chaotic. Rats were scurrying around, as were a few pregnant stray cats.

Ah, I enjoyed a couple of Myanmar lagers in the company of a Czech-Canadian gentleman. He is struggling here, quite a difficult place to travel he tells me. Forget about comfort and be careful of the food.

I return to my windowless and stuffy room before 10pm as pretty soon all the lights in town will go out.