Burma

So, Burma. The land time, and the world, forgot. The land without credit cards and ATMs, very few mobile phones or ipods, very little and at best, slow, access to the internet. Where monks mingle with the mortals and women have white-painted faces. Where roads are being built by teams of women laying different sized rocks with a string line while the men boil drums of tar for the final layer. Where walking down the street involves dodging holes, gaps and red spittle. Why come here?

A visit to Burma is to see what a lot of South East Asia, I imagine, used to be like many years ago. Culture and tradition are observed and it is a very conservative society. The people are genuine, friendly, curious, playful, happy to have us in their midst.

As my Czech-Canadian friend told me on the first night, travelling here is hard. The roads are terrible but that is the only way to get around without putting money in the government’s pockets – they control the airlines, railways and boats. I wasn’t as careful with the food as I could have been. The air quality in some places at this time of year is dreadful. Getting food in some places is really difficult. Getting anything for that matter. You need to find people who can help you out and stay in guesthouses that offer to help as well. The general standard of accommodation is very basic. There is virtually no connection to the outside world unless you seek it out.

But the rewards are huge. It takes time to get around and I hope to come back and use up the whole 28 days of my visa next time, as most travellers seem to do. Things are simpler here, fewer distractions. But life is also hard for many.

It is so nice walking down the street in the evening, seeing groups of men playing kick with a small rattan ball in my street. There were also groups of boys kicking a soccer ball around, and two other groups of men playing some kind of board games, one with a rudimentary game sketched out on some scrap paper. That was all in a stretch of 100 metres. There is a strong sense of community – something I fear we have all but abandoned in the west, except in times of disaster and sporting events.

Unlike my experience in Cuba several years ago, the government is never spoken about and there is a real fear for anyone to discuss it so most conversations with locals are polite and about the weather and family and all that small talk. Many parts of the country are closed to foreigners, even the new capital. All the embassies are still here in Rangoon.

Obviously not a poster-child for human rights or democratic process, the Myanmar government have a strong hold on how Burma is seen in the eyes of a tourist. Every guesthouse must log our passport and visa number so the government has a record of our every move. It would be great to visit some of the other parts and get an insight into the struggles of the people and some of the minority groups and see how society functions at a deeper level, but you can’t even scratch the surface with such strong controls and a short amount of time.

But it is still worth a visit, the Burmese people really want you to come. I'll be back, that's for sure!

Back in Rangoon

Scary to think that in 28 days I will be beginning a new adventure in Delhi…

I was very happy to arrive back at my friendly guesthouse in Rangoon, and yes, they had a room for me and yes, unlike other guesthouses in Burma, I could have breakfast today as well as tomorrow. So happy – this is after all the “best buffet breakfast in the world”. And it really is pretty good, although part of the deal is having the owner tell you the entire time you’re eating how good the food is, how breakfast is the most important meal of the day, how they have over five hundred recipes and they are always changing the menu, etc, etc.

I was glad to be back in Rangoon although I’m disappointed I didn’t get to spend much time at Inle.

Familiarity is always nice so I pottered around town, visited the markets to buy some final gifts, had chai on the street, and rested while I caught up on this journal.

In the evening I wandered through some food markets where I witnessed catfish jumping out of a steel bowl and slithering down the street. I wasn’t quick enough with my camera so I waited a while but I think they were exhausted. In the middle of the road there are children selling things as well. There was one girl in particular, probably about ten, selling badly undersized fish on two big steel trays. When a big truck came down the street, everyone squeezed to the sides, the fish stayed there and the truck went straight over the top of them - wheels either side. Then she just went back to where she was, hoping for a sale.

Chinatown was hopping tonight with Chinese New Year festivities getting underway and everyone was out with all sorts of noisemakers being sold. I was too tired to wait for the dragon dance rehearsal but it was nice to see some of the action.