Myanm-arse

Joanne is currently updating her blog with our exploits in Manila, so without wishing to steal her thunder, I thought I'd continue with my tales from Burma...

Until recently, I hadn’t been that adventurous with the food in Yangon. After a disastrous start at a Chinese restaurant called the Golden Duck, I was a bit put off by the cuisine on offer. On my first day, I went for lunch there with a group of Filipino production technicians from our office and our two Burmese secretaries, Orchid and, I’m not making this up, Poo Poo*. They all ordered a big banquet for everyone to share and Orchid asked me if I liked seafood. I said yes and she suggested I try the stewed fish tails. Instead of saying ‘Are you insane, woman? Do you not have any cake or chips?’, I meekly agreed; not wanting to look like a boring foreigner. And so my plate of stewed fish tails duly arrived (not the cake or chips I was hoping for) along with some deep fried eels, an entire roast duck (including head and innards) and some unidentifiable green vegetables covered in fish sauce. Blurgh. Luckily I was spared any embarrassment from not eating as everyone else had my share for me.

The only other scran I could stomach after that was Thai food and Burma’s take on western dishes. At the bottom of our apartment block, there’s an optimistically overstaffed pizza restaurant called ‘Papa Pizza’ to which I have become a bit of a regular.  The service there is excellent. And so it should be as they have 8 staff to cover 3 tables in a room no bigger a broom cupboard. Good pizzas though. Here’s a pic of the place and about half of the people that work there.

 

The staff at Papa Pizza expecting a busy night.

I’d been advised by two Burmese men, one doctor and one offshore medic, to avoid the local food as it would only lead to a one way ticket to Squitsville (or Myanm-arse as I've hilariously called it). The reason for this being that my delicate, western stomach would clearly be no match for the rich and spicy dishes on offer there. But having survived numerous curries and kebabs from takeaways of dubious cleanliness in the UK, I thought, ‘When in Rome…’. And so this advice was ignored and a couple of days later I found a nice looking Burmese restaurant (i.e. one that had a roof and a toilet) and began to stuff my face with a selection of stews, curries and fried fish dishes.

But... it turned out that the medical men were right.

Best stick to pizza.

*Her name is pronounced Poo Poo, but it’s actually spelt Phoo Phoo.  I’m keeping the spelling as it’s pronounced for obvious reasons. 
 

Kiss Kiss

I’m still getting used to all of the customs around here.  The weirdest one being that these crazy fools have right hand drive cars, like we do in the UK, but also drive on the right too! Which lunatic invented that rule?  And, until recently, motorbikes were banned here because they were ‘unsafe’.  Oh right, but not being able to see where you’re going when overtaking in a beat up old car without any seatbelts is perfectly acceptable.

Another common practice around here is that when someone wants your attention, they make an over the top, smooching, 'kiss kiss' type sound.  The first time I walked past a group of taxi drivers in Yangon I thought I was being propositioned.  And it turned out I was. But only for ride home.

I mentioned before that the area we’re staying in is a bit of a dump.  Well, it stinks too.  It’s a kind of vomity/minty/rotting food aroma and it’s constantly present.  I’ve taken to breathing through my mouth when walking around the place (a practice I suggest to Joanne after I’ve had a heavy night on the ale).  I thought I'd get used to it, but so far I haven’t.  The whole of Yangon* isn’t like this; just mainly around here.  I’ve found out that the smell is coming from the partially open sewers that run just a few feet under the road.  I say partially open as it is mostly covered, but occasionally you’ll see a gaping hole in the pavement and directly beneath it runs Yangon’s filth.  Apparently it’s not uncommon for unsuspecting tourists to fail to spot these obstacles and fall straight through them and into the stinking mess below.  It would appear that manhole covers have yet to reach these shores.  Try suing the council for that around here and see where it gets you.

I paid a visit to Yangon’s main attraction the other day – the Shwedagon Pagoda.  It’s a huge, gold Buddhist temple surrounded by statues, monuments and places to meditate.  I immediately felt at home there as you have to take your shoes off before entering (a la Waiting Towers).  Once you’re in, it feels really peaceful and smells of incense.  I was taking some photos of some monks praying around a Buddha statue when two men approached me and asked me what day I was born on.  I said Friday and they told me that I had to move because I was stood at the ‘Sunday’ Buddha and that it was bad luck for me to be there.  They took me to the ‘Friday’ Buddha and told me that if I poured cups of water over it then it would bring me good luck.  They kindly took some photos of me too which you can see below.  I’ve since found out that from my Mum that I was, in fact, born on a Saturday.  Arse.

Me pouring water over the wrong Buddha

The Shwedagon Pagoda

*I’m calling the place Yangon now and not Rangoon because that’s what everyone else does, including the locals!

Betel Juice

Well, I made it. After leaving Joanne at Manchester airport on Monday evening I have finally arrived in Rangoon, Burma (or Yangon, Myanmar to give it it's official, if somewhat controversial name). I had to stop over in Bangkok for a couple of days so I could get my Burmese work visa sorted and then hopped on a plane for the 1 hour flight here.

Bangkok was crazy, although I didn’t really see much of it – just the backpackers’ area around the Khao San Road. I was staying in the airport hotel which is quite a hike from the city centre so I needed to get either a cab or the sky train to get there. I took the easy option (cab) but made the fatal mistake of telling the driver that it was my first time in Thailand. I may as well have added ‘And feel free to charge me what you like’ to end of that sentence. I probably got my pants pulled down over the price, but I didn’t question it. For those who know me, you’ll be aware that the likelihood of me instigating an argument over a fare with an irate looking and financially impoverished Thai taxi driver is zero. I won’t go into too much about Bangkok as it’s been done to death. But it’s exactly like everyone says: hot, sticky, unbelievably busy, but very modern and with fantastic (and cheap) food. And no, I didn’t see any ladyboys... no, really.

I arrived in Rangoon on Thursday morning and was immediately amazed and how green and untouched the place was. Lots of palms, green spaces and crumbling old British colonial buildings. I'd read in the guide books and online that this place was like stepping back in time, and it really is. And although I thought I was prepared for it, it has come as bit of a shock to me as to how different this place is from anywhere I've ever been. Rangoon is a big, bustling city, but due to the political problems here, the rest of the World has kind of left it behind. The men wear thick, ankle length skirts called longhi and the women cover their cheeks in a kind of slapped on beige make up made from tree bark (it's meant to improve the complexion - might give it a try). People sit on tiny, plastic chairs on street corners drinking tea and there are no chain stores or western brands to be seen.

I haven’t had a proper chance to explore yet as I’ve been settling in and doing the normal first few days at work stuff, but I’m going to pay a visit to the Shwedagon Pagoda at some point. This is a huge, gold Buddhist temple in the city centre and is a massive tourist draw. I can see it in the distance from my apartment block and it looks amazing. The only real exploring I’ve done so far was when I went for lunch with some guys from work. We went to the Savoy Hotel and it was fantastic! It’s a proper old school colonial type place with a dining area called ‘The Kipling Room’. I can just imagine the Brits from Victorian times sipping gin cocktails under sun umbrellas there.

When walking the streets, I found what looked like blood splattered across the pavements and roads. I was beginning to wonder if I'd stumbled upon the scene of a brutal murder. But no, the ‘blood’ is in fact a combination of saliva and the juice from betel nuts. The betel nut being Burma’s answer to chewing tobacco. And everyone’s at it. You’ll see men with their cheeks full, chewing wildly and occasionally gobbing mouthfuls of the resulting red goo on the floor. Lovely.

The local people here have been very friendly, kind and helpful since I've been here and everyone speaks really good English. People stop me in the lift and ask me where I’m from and what I’m doing in Burma. I'm staying in a fully furnished, company rented apartment in the centre of Rangoon in a bit of a rundown area, but with a few bars and shops nearby. When I got taken up to my place, I had to go through an inventory of the stuff that was being supplied to me with the apartment manager so that should any of it go missing, I could be billed for it at the end of my stay (although why they felt the need to itemise a double bed and a wardrobe is anyone's guess; these items being the least convenient things to steal from an 18th floor apartment). Anyway, what would normally be an extremely mundane task was turned into a fun game for the apartment manager's kids who ran around the rooms, finding all of the things that were on the list for me (and there were a lot). I'd say 'cups' or 'towels' and they'd run into the kitchen or bathroom and show me everything that needed to be ticked off. Their English was perfect and they smiled and laughed whole time. Judging from the less than luxurious conditions these kids were living in downstairs, you could have forgiven them for not being overly keen on this task. To me, it felt as though we were playing a game of 'Let’s make a note of all of the things that I have that you don't'. Not to them though - they were just helping me out!

Places to get online are few and far between and when you do manage to get wifi, the connections are slooooow. Think dial up speed halved with an irritating disconnect every few minutes. I’m lucky in that I can use my company’s private internet connection whilst at work, so it’s not too bad, but outside of working hours I’ve not had much chance to get my Facebook fix. This makes contacting the Mrs a real pain as I can’t really talk to her without Skype. She’s having laser eye surgery today so I need to speak to her to make sure she’s OK and that they haven’t zapped her eyes out. I’ve heard that there are a few places in town that have good connections (in between power cuts, of course) so I’ll have to try and seek them out.

If you fancy visiting here, forget your mobile phone – it won’t work. There’s no international roaming and getting a local phone here can be expensive. Two years ago the cost of a basic mobile and SIM was around $2000, although this is changing and I believe it’s much cheaper now. But I think I can get used to this and it kind of adds to the charm of the place. People aren’t constantly staring at a small screen in their palms all the time (like I do) and they, you know, like, talk to each other!

Another thing I’ll have to come to terms with is the cash only economy. I’ve been so used to using plastic to pay for things that having to carry a massive wad of notes everywhere feels a bit weird. And there are a few other strange rules when it comes to money: 1) You can only get the currency, the Burmese Kyat, here, in Burma. 2) You get a much better rate on the black market than from the official exchange offices due to the government massively over valuing their own currency. 3) The money changers will only accept US dollars in exchange for Kyats and 4) The dollars you hand over have to be new, crisp and clean with no marks, scratches, tears or folds. What is perfectly legal tender in New York is worthless over here.

So anyway, that’s a bit of Burma for you… more to follow…

Losing my blog-ginity

Hello.  I've decided to start a blog about my travels to South East Asia.  These travels haven't actually begun yet, but they soon will (8 days from now, to be exact).  I wouldn't normally do this sort of thing.  I've always thought that my life was significantly unexciting enough not to bother with such indulgences, but due to my soon to be new job in Burma, I thought that I would give it a whirl.  I also have another reason to try...

Mrs Waiting (aka The Wife and/or Joanne) has been blogging to widespread critical acclaim for several weeks now.  She has had over 1400 views on her travel blog and can even claim a best selling crime author as an avid reader.  This is particularly impressive when you consider that the travel blogger in question hasn't started travelling yet.  With this in mind, I fully expect her musings to go global once she sets foot on foreign soil.  And without wishing to blow smoke up her bottom, it is rather good (the blog, that is, not the bottom.  Although the bottom is good too).  So basically, she has inspired me to get my thoughts out into the blogosphere. But I have a lot to live up to if this is to be deemed a success. Expectations will be high with me being the spouse of one of the World's most esteemed globe trotting scribblers. So... better get to it.

Burma.  Not the first place that comes to mind when you think about South East Asia.  Thailand, Singapore and Malaysia, maybe, but not Burma.  And with the country's somewhat troubled past, you may wonder why I'm bothering.  But I've been wanting to move abroad for a while now, and a rather fantastic opportunity came up for me to work on a new gas project.  To cut a long story very short, I jumped at the chance and I'll be in Rangoon next week.  I don't really know to expect apart from hot, sticky weather, a worrying lack of mobile phones and cash machines, and a plethora of Buddhist temples and old British colonial buildings.  I'll be doing a month on/month off rotation and The Wife will be joining me in The Philippines on my time off.  A whole new life awaits...Exciting times!