Yangon, Burma (Myanmar)

The young taxi driver with rotten red stained teeth from chewing beetle nut couldn’t have been more nice and pleasant. His English was not very good and a heavy accent disguised his words. I listened close as he took on the roles of tour guide and distracted driver. A shortcut through the University was lovely. Worn out buildings left over from British rule appeared somewhat occupied, somewhat abandoned, with no one about. A short bit further past another building and around the corner four young women in colorful graduation robes posed for photos. Yes, the University is open.

A smell caught my nose. A smell I haven’t noticed in awhile. It’s a mix of car exhaust, incense, laundry soap, sewer, spices, food, and rot. A smell that that you don’t smell in the sanitized developed world. Oddly enough it’s not really offensive but very noticeable. Sometimes it changes with the breeze and sorts itself out into something pleasant. Other times it becomes confined into small pocket of absolute unbearable stench almost forcing a gag. But ultimately it’s ok and easy to get used to. Over time it sets an impression that in a odd way fosters a fondness to a memory of traveling in the third world.

It’s been awhile since I’ve traveled a developing country and on the short ride to my accommodation in the middle of Yangon I could feel a little bit of what might be mild culture shock but not really. I know what to expect traveling in poor countries but it still takes a little time to get use to again.

The taxi driver drove me into the busy downtown area. A mix of crumbling structures leftover from British rule with an modern new high rise building here and there. The old and the impoverished right next to the new and fresh with dirty streets stained with red spit splatter from men chewing beetle nut. Food stalls and vendors line sections of sidewalk and cars cram off to the of side busy narrow streets for one lane to pass thru.

It was along one of the busy side streets that my driver dropped me in front of a Guest House. The taxi fare was fixed rate and somewhere around the amount of 6 or 7 dollars. I gave him 10,000 Kyat which is about 8 dollars and told him keep the change which gave him a smile. Life is hard in the third world. This time around I’ll drop some spare change the to those who help me along the way. It’s something I kind of regret not doing in the past while traveling such places.

A narrow set of stairs up a few flights led me to a Guest House that caters mostly to western backpackers on a budget. I am greeted by a young man at the front desk with bow tie who speaks fair English with a heavy accent. I had a reservation but there seemed to be an issue with which room to put me in.

The guest house is clean and tidy but a little worn. The rooms are efficiently arranged along narrow halls with tile floors and concrete walls. The first room I was assigned was right by a small common area where the included breakfast is served. An interior room with no outside window. I thought they might have something better available so I didn’t accept the room right away.

The staff was happy to oblige as I like to check out my options before making a decision. I was shown another room with no window in probably in the quietest part of the building but it had a strong musty odor so I passed. The other option was on an upper floor with shared bathrooms and mosquitos.

I thanked the nice and accommodating young gentleman who was showing me the rooms. He replied, “As you wish Boss”. I got a kick out of that as I recalled a young man in India once telling me how people his age learned English by watching American movies. I figured the first room was the best option as each had its pros and cons. After checking in I went for a walk.

My first impression is that Burma is a little like India. Sights, sounds, etc.. It’s where India and Southeast Asia meet. Some of the people look Asian while many look Indian. Yangon is a melting pot of sorts for the region. What’s notably different, in comparison to India, is that it’s not as dirty, the crowds are not as intense and there’s not much hassle or touts which is nice. For now, I’ll just settle into the culture as I roam the streets of Yangon for a couple of days then travel by Train to Bagan.