Burmese Days pt. 1: Yangon
Hello, xin chào, and မင်္ဂလာပါ (mingalaba)!
Tết is over, and life in Hanoi is more or less back to normal. A few weeks ago, meanwhile, I returned from an 11-day trip through Myanmar, which was, in short, a pretty unbelievable experience. The subject of this blog post, my first stop was the country's former capital, Yangon.
First, however, a quick note (lifted more or less verbatim from my Instagram): I spent a long time grappling with the ethical questions around a visit to a country currently most known for waging a brutal campaign of ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya (to say nothing of its numerous long-running civil wars with other ethnic groups). For me, it came down to who would be most directly hurt and/or helped by my actions, particularly in a country as isolated and impoverished as Myanmar. At the end of the day, the people most impacted by my visit were average citizens who have faced decades of sociopolitical isolation and have very little say over the actions of the country's military-dominated government. That said, I don't think there's a right answer to these ethical questions, and it would be irresponsible not to acknowledge them.
I'm happy I made the choice that I did—Myanmar has some of the most spectacular sights I've ever seen, and I got to see a side of the country that, until 5-10 years ago, few foreigners have ever seen. Like many other travelers I met, I was quite frankly shocked at how smooth and hospitable traveling was given how undeveloped the country is. Myanmar actually has the lowest Human Development Index (HDI) of any country in East Asia. Even so, there are rapidly growing pockets of development, particularly since the military junta introduced some democratic reforms in 2011: I had reliable 4G cell service for most of my trip, and I had KFC when I was recovering from food poisoning.
Of course, there were plenty of things that totally surprised and bewildered me—and reminded me that the world isn't quite that small. As at many airports, I was greeted by an all-male crowd of eager taxi drivers when I exited immigration at Yangon International Airport. On top, they wore button-downs, but on the bottom, almost all of them wore the traditional Burmese longyi, essentially a sarong worn by all genders. Even on men, the longyi seemed to be way more common than pants, which I was totally not expecting. I called a taxi using Grab (Southeast Asia's Uber) and was surprised again to find that Burmese cars are usually right-hand drive even though they drive on the right (i.e., the steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car). I made it to my hostel, had some Indian food, and went to bed early so I could hit the ground running on my first day.
I spent the first morning wandering around Downtown Yangon, a dense collection of crumbling British colonial buildings. It reminded me a little of Hanoi—a bustling city growing out of the ruins of imperialism. Yangon, however, took it to a whole other level.
Even though the temperature quickly hit 95°F, the welcome lack of humidity made it pretty bearable (so long as I was out of the sun). I wandered my way towards Botahtaung Pagoda, known for its riverside location and for housing a Buddha hair relic.
Interestingly, a sign noted that the Buddha image above was stolen by the British in the 19th century and was only repatriated from London in the 1970s.
Because I'm so inexplicably approachable when I'm traveling, I was cornered by an old Burmese man who spoke surprisingly fluent English. First, he asked me what day of the week I was born. I told him Saturday, and he led me to one of the corners of the stupa with a shrine. This was the Saturday corner, he told me, and I had to pour water on the Buddha's head five times. He was a very nice man—and in spite of how much I've traveled I still have a really, really hard time saying no—so I did as I was told. He made sure to note whom each pour was for: once for me, once for my parents, once for my teachers, one I forget, and once for Jesus (ordinarily Buddha, he said, but he was adapting it for a Westerner, which amused me).
Apparently, there's a strong tradition of Buddhist astrology in Myanmar. Every pagoda apparently has shrines for each day of the week at each corner and on each side (with Wednesday split into two for some theological reason). Of course, the old Burmese man wasn't finished with me yet, as he continued to lead me around the grounds and rattle off the various symbols that were lucky for me based on the Burmese zodiac.
He was stopping me at various points, telling me to take a picture with such and such statue because it was the south, and another the west. I very nervously let him take my picture with my phone—there was no way he could've outrun me as well as plenty of bystanders. Granted, few of them likely would've been able to communicate with me.
Last but not least, we repeated the whole process for my parents. He asked if I knew what day of the week they were born on, and I told him I didn't, so he whipped out a book about the size of a pocket dictionary. It was filled with calendars from the last 100 years or so, which he used to find out—with great interest—that my parents were both born on a Friday. He kept calling it Super Friday because that was also the day of the week Buddha was born. Go figure.
After the man at the pagoda very unsurprisingly asked for a "donation"—and then a second one on behalf of my parents—I made my way down to the Yangon River. The city started operating a sporadic river ferry service a few years ago, but it's not really convenient for anything besides the scenery, particularly since there is very little development on the opposite bank. The boat I was on was a proper ferry: much larger and more modern than what's pictured above.
I didn't stay on for very long, but it was nice to see the city from different vantage point. I think I was the only foreigner on the ferry except for a family that got on halfway through my trip. As I was waiting for it to depart, I kept making eye contact with a baby sitting in front of me—well, technically it was her mother who was sitting. The mother was with a group of a few other women and several young kids who all kept looking at me. I waved and smiled at the baby, which the mother noticed, so she handed her phone to her friend and gestured to ask my permission for a photo.
And then she hoisted her baby over the seat and handed her to me. This Burmese woman who did not speak a word of English literally just gave me her infant daughter to get a picture of me holding her. This was followed by a selfie with the mother and pictures with at least two other kids.
After getting off the ferry at a vaguely industrial gravel road, I quickly headed back to my hostel and had whatever you call a 4pm meal. I returned to the vegetarian Indian-Nepali restaurant I went to the night before for some delicious curry and naan. (Myanmar, especially Yangon, has a large South Asian population that dates back to the colonial era, as Burma was administered largely by South Asians as a part of the British Raj.)
I then anxiously called a cab so I could get to Shwedagon Pagoda before sunset. Thanks to Yangon's notoriously outdated infrastructure, I ended up stuck at an intersection just outside the pagoda for at least 15-20 minutes, panicking at the increasingly orange sky.
I asked to be dropped off at the west entrance to be prepared for the sunset, and it turned out that that was also the entrance with escalators. (The pagoda is located atop a relatively substantial hill a few miles from downtown.) I was pretty immediately astonished by the grandeur of the entrance hall, and then I had the unique experience of riding an escalator barefoot (as is mandated at most Burmese religious sites). Once I made it to the top, I was absolutely floored.
It felt like a fantasy world making it to the top and glimpsing the seemingly endless stupas and spires. I'd consider myself a pretty well-traveled person, and the Shwedagon Pagoda is hands-down one of the most extraordinary places I've ever been. Full stop.
I spent a solid two hours just circling the 326-foot-tall stupa, which dates to the 6th century. It was relatively crowded, but it was probably 80% local people enjoying the sight alongside the tourists. There was a surprisingly convivial but also peaceful atmosphere, which was an absolute delight to just sit and take in.
Once darkness fell, a continuous line of candles encircling the entire stupa was lit. I spent so much time sitting and watching and absorbing that they had all burned out by the time I left.
With that, my first day in Myanmar came to a close, and I had only just begun to realize how little I knew about the country beyond Aung San Suu Kyi and the military junta.
Exhausted from roughly 10 hours of exploring on my first day, my second day got off to a much slower and later start. On the docket was riding the Yangon Circular Railway, a slow, rattling, and non-air-conditioned trip into the more suburban areas of the city.
There's nothing to see, really; it's a somewhat popular activity just for the experience. A bus system was introduced to the city of roughly 5 million only a few years ago, and, at $0.20 for locals, the 28.5-mile circle remains the cheapest transportation in the city. Consequently, you get an up-close and personal feel for local life.
There were no windows, no doors, no cushions, no A/C, no [working] fans. We didn't pass much besides dilapidated apartment buildings and laundry drying on unused tracks. What was fascinating, however, was watching the constant flow of people on and off the train. Vendors would pass through selling tangerines (by weight!), freshly mixed noodle salads, and even ice pops. (I had a green apple ice pop that was really refreshing. I was too afraid of getting sick to try anything else.)
After riding for about an hour I stopped and crossed some tracks to catch a train heading back downtown—construction meant that the a part of the circle was shut down. Incidentally, I made the switch at Insein station, near the eponymous prison formerly used by the military junta to detain and torture political dissidents.
I wandered back into the city from the same ramshackle train station as before and stopped to try one of Myanmar's most well-known dishes, Shan noodles.
The dish originates from Shan State in northeastern part of the country, and it almost seemed like a different dish each of the three times I had it. The savory, chicken stock-based broth of this version wasn't too unfamiliar compared to other noodle soups I've had, but it came with these sticky rice noodles that I absolutely loved. It was at this restaurant that I also tried Burmese milk tea, which quickly became one of my favorite things about Myanmar. Afterwards, I headed to the shockingly hip and modern Rangoon Tea House to sample some more.
Rangoon Tea House had the most elaborate menu for milk teas, arranging them according to a bitter vs. sweet axis (up and down) and a sweet vs. rich axis. And then they were all illustrated to show the ratios of black tea to evaporated milk to condensed milk! During my two visits here, I tried four different varieties from the upper right (rich and somewhat sweet) portion for $1.30 each. It reminded me a lot of Thai milk tea, but Burmese milk tea was a bit less sweet and, consequently, so much less processed.
While I was there, I met an American woman who was towards the beginning of a round-the-world retirement trip. She was telling me about how she had visited Myanmar back in the '90s (with her daughter!) and could not believe how much it had changed. I can't even imagine what it must've been like visiting during the height of the country's isolation.
There was also a bar upstairs from the cafe that was running a happy hour. I couldn't help but try, for $2.60, a cocktail with fresh, local peach, roasted cumin seeds, bourbon, fresh lime, and simple syrup. It was a delicious way to end the day before watching the sunset from my hostel's roof terrace.
Perhaps it's because Myanmar is so dry and sunny for its latitude, but the sunsets I saw during my whole trip were consistently stunning, perhaps more so than anywhere else I've ever been.
Later, I found more fantastic Indian food for dinner and then headed to sleep early. I had to make sure I got plenty of good rest before my overnight bus the following day, which happened to be Lunar New Year's Day.
For my final day in Yangon, I decided to check out the city's Chinatown to see if there was anything going on for the holiday. Sure enough, there were tons of people and lanterns on the main street, with tents lined up in a lane closed to traffic. I'm not really sure what there was besides food, but every block or so there would be huge lines of people waiting for what I imagined had to be some sort of religious or spiritual rite.
While I was taking advantage of the endless street photography opportunities, I managed to get the photo above. The girl above has thanaka on her face, which was very common among women and children (and some men as well) throughout Myanmar. It's a paste made from grinding a few kinds of local trees. It's a cosmetic that acts both as sunscreen and to cool the face, and it's often applied in designs and patterns.
After some time wandering, I realized that most of the nearby restaurants were closed, and I somewhat shamefully needed to go somewhere with at least a basic English menu available.
Thanks to my unbelievably reliable 4G connection, I found a recommended place to sample a traditional Burmese set meal. I was shown a choice of meats, and for whatever reason the mutton was calling out to me. I then got to choose between spinach and some other vegetable I forget. Once I sat down, they gave me rice, soup, and a plate of vegetables that looked disconcertingly stale under the fluorescent lights. Aside from that one plate, everything was really tasty! I really enjoyed the mutton in spite of its oiliness—which, for whatever reason, became a recurring theme in my experiences with Burmese food.
I headed back out in the heat to check out a large market with endless rows of fabrics and precious metals. With some time left to kill before I had to catch my night bus, I returned to Rangoon Tea House to have more milk tea.
Thanks to Yangon's nightmarish traffic, my hostel suggested I leave for my 7:00pm bus at 4:30pm. It took an hour to reach the Aung Mingalar Highway Bus Station on the outskirts of the city. I was shocked to find that, despite its name, it wasn't really a bus station in the traditional sense of one or two central buildings shared by multiple operators.
It turned out to be more like a sprawling shanty town of bus depots and open-air shops/restaurants. I found a heavily air-conditioned KFC amid the chaos and camped out for 45 minutes to charge my phone before my 13-hour bus ride to Inle Lake.
My VIP night bus was shockingly comfortable, but more on that later. I'll be putting up a post about Inle Lake as soon as possible—I'm getting backlogged as I visit new places faster than I can edit photos and write posts about them! In the meantime, check out the rest of my photos! There's a lot of them, but I'm really proud of how they came out. (And I'm also starting to have an existential crisis about how I have all these pretty pictures from around the world that no more than like two people ever look at, but that's neither here nor there.)
Till next time,
Gray
Tết is over, and life in Hanoi is more or less back to normal. A few weeks ago, meanwhile, I returned from an 11-day trip through Myanmar, which was, in short, a pretty unbelievable experience. The subject of this blog post, my first stop was the country's former capital, Yangon.
First, however, a quick note (lifted more or less verbatim from my Instagram): I spent a long time grappling with the ethical questions around a visit to a country currently most known for waging a brutal campaign of ethnic cleansing against the Rohingya (to say nothing of its numerous long-running civil wars with other ethnic groups). For me, it came down to who would be most directly hurt and/or helped by my actions, particularly in a country as isolated and impoverished as Myanmar. At the end of the day, the people most impacted by my visit were average citizens who have faced decades of sociopolitical isolation and have very little say over the actions of the country's military-dominated government. That said, I don't think there's a right answer to these ethical questions, and it would be irresponsible not to acknowledge them.
I'm happy I made the choice that I did—Myanmar has some of the most spectacular sights I've ever seen, and I got to see a side of the country that, until 5-10 years ago, few foreigners have ever seen. Like many other travelers I met, I was quite frankly shocked at how smooth and hospitable traveling was given how undeveloped the country is. Myanmar actually has the lowest Human Development Index (HDI) of any country in East Asia. Even so, there are rapidly growing pockets of development, particularly since the military junta introduced some democratic reforms in 2011: I had reliable 4G cell service for most of my trip, and I had KFC when I was recovering from food poisoning.
Of course, there were plenty of things that totally surprised and bewildered me—and reminded me that the world isn't quite that small. As at many airports, I was greeted by an all-male crowd of eager taxi drivers when I exited immigration at Yangon International Airport. On top, they wore button-downs, but on the bottom, almost all of them wore the traditional Burmese longyi, essentially a sarong worn by all genders. Even on men, the longyi seemed to be way more common than pants, which I was totally not expecting. I called a taxi using Grab (Southeast Asia's Uber) and was surprised again to find that Burmese cars are usually right-hand drive even though they drive on the right (i.e., the steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car). I made it to my hostel, had some Indian food, and went to bed early so I could hit the ground running on my first day.
 |
| The former Bombay Burma Press. |
 |
| One of many women carrying food products on her head. |
 |
| A typical apartment building in Downtown Yangon. |
I spent the first morning wandering around Downtown Yangon, a dense collection of crumbling British colonial buildings. It reminded me a little of Hanoi—a bustling city growing out of the ruins of imperialism. Yangon, however, took it to a whole other level.
 |
| An abandoned building in Downtown Yangon. |
 |
| One of the ubiquitous corner eateries. |
Even though the temperature quickly hit 95°F, the welcome lack of humidity made it pretty bearable (so long as I was out of the sun). I wandered my way towards Botahtaung Pagoda, known for its riverside location and for housing a Buddha hair relic.
 |
| The central stupa under restoration. |
 |
| A girl at one of Botahtaung's shrines. |
 |
| Monks and Burmese women in traditional dress on Botahtaung's grounds. |
Because I'm so inexplicably approachable when I'm traveling, I was cornered by an old Burmese man who spoke surprisingly fluent English. First, he asked me what day of the week I was born. I told him Saturday, and he led me to one of the corners of the stupa with a shrine. This was the Saturday corner, he told me, and I had to pour water on the Buddha's head five times. He was a very nice man—and in spite of how much I've traveled I still have a really, really hard time saying no—so I did as I was told. He made sure to note whom each pour was for: once for me, once for my parents, once for my teachers, one I forget, and once for Jesus (ordinarily Buddha, he said, but he was adapting it for a Westerner, which amused me).
 |
| A woman adjusting an offering at the shrine representing the day of the week on which she was born. |
Apparently, there's a strong tradition of Buddhist astrology in Myanmar. Every pagoda apparently has shrines for each day of the week at each corner and on each side (with Wednesday split into two for some theological reason). Of course, the old Burmese man wasn't finished with me yet, as he continued to lead me around the grounds and rattle off the various symbols that were lucky for me based on the Burmese zodiac.
 |
| He was kind enough to painstakingly note all this information while he talked to me. |
He was stopping me at various points, telling me to take a picture with such and such statue because it was the south, and another the west. I very nervously let him take my picture with my phone—there was no way he could've outrun me as well as plenty of bystanders. Granted, few of them likely would've been able to communicate with me.
 |
| Pouring water over the Buddha's head. |
Last but not least, we repeated the whole process for my parents. He asked if I knew what day of the week they were born on, and I told him I didn't, so he whipped out a book about the size of a pocket dictionary. It was filled with calendars from the last 100 years or so, which he used to find out—with great interest—that my parents were both born on a Friday. He kept calling it Super Friday because that was also the day of the week Buddha was born. Go figure.
 |
| Small boats at Botahtaung Jetty. |
After the man at the pagoda very unsurprisingly asked for a "donation"—and then a second one on behalf of my parents—I made my way down to the Yangon River. The city started operating a sporadic river ferry service a few years ago, but it's not really convenient for anything besides the scenery, particularly since there is very little development on the opposite bank. The boat I was on was a proper ferry: much larger and more modern than what's pictured above.
 |
| Downtown Yangon waterfront. |
I didn't stay on for very long, but it was nice to see the city from different vantage point. I think I was the only foreigner on the ferry except for a family that got on halfway through my trip. As I was waiting for it to depart, I kept making eye contact with a baby sitting in front of me—well, technically it was her mother who was sitting. The mother was with a group of a few other women and several young kids who all kept looking at me. I waved and smiled at the baby, which the mother noticed, so she handed her phone to her friend and gestured to ask my permission for a photo.
And then she hoisted her baby over the seat and handed her to me. This Burmese woman who did not speak a word of English literally just gave me her infant daughter to get a picture of me holding her. This was followed by a selfie with the mother and pictures with at least two other kids.
 |
| I have absolutely no idea what this woman was selling. |
After getting off the ferry at a vaguely industrial gravel road, I quickly headed back to my hostel and had whatever you call a 4pm meal. I returned to the vegetarian Indian-Nepali restaurant I went to the night before for some delicious curry and naan. (Myanmar, especially Yangon, has a large South Asian population that dates back to the colonial era, as Burma was administered largely by South Asians as a part of the British Raj.)
I then anxiously called a cab so I could get to Shwedagon Pagoda before sunset. Thanks to Yangon's notoriously outdated infrastructure, I ended up stuck at an intersection just outside the pagoda for at least 15-20 minutes, panicking at the increasingly orange sky.
 |
| West entrance to the Shwedagon Pagoda, with escalators in the distance. |
I asked to be dropped off at the west entrance to be prepared for the sunset, and it turned out that that was also the entrance with escalators. (The pagoda is located atop a relatively substantial hill a few miles from downtown.) I was pretty immediately astonished by the grandeur of the entrance hall, and then I had the unique experience of riding an escalator barefoot (as is mandated at most Burmese religious sites). Once I made it to the top, I was absolutely floored.
 |
| Central stupa of the Shwedagon Pagoda. |
 |
| A panorama from my phone at Shwedagon (click for full size). |
It felt like a fantasy world making it to the top and glimpsing the seemingly endless stupas and spires. I'd consider myself a pretty well-traveled person, and the Shwedagon Pagoda is hands-down one of the most extraordinary places I've ever been. Full stop.
 |
| Most of the people in this photo are wearing the longyi. |
 |
| Shortly after sunset. |
I spent a solid two hours just circling the 326-foot-tall stupa, which dates to the 6th century. It was relatively crowded, but it was probably 80% local people enjoying the sight alongside the tourists. There was a surprisingly convivial but also peaceful atmosphere, which was an absolute delight to just sit and take in.
 |
| After dark. |
 |
| A woman lighting incense with the candles at the base of the stupa. |
With that, my first day in Myanmar came to a close, and I had only just begun to realize how little I knew about the country beyond Aung San Suu Kyi and the military junta.
 |
| Yangon Central railway station. The platforms are below the green shed roofs. |
Exhausted from roughly 10 hours of exploring on my first day, my second day got off to a much slower and later start. On the docket was riding the Yangon Circular Railway, a slow, rattling, and non-air-conditioned trip into the more suburban areas of the city.
 |
| A food vendor waiting to board the train with all her ingredients ready to go. |
There's nothing to see, really; it's a somewhat popular activity just for the experience. A bus system was introduced to the city of roughly 5 million only a few years ago, and, at $0.20 for locals, the 28.5-mile circle remains the cheapest transportation in the city. Consequently, you get an up-close and personal feel for local life.
 |
| People could basically sit or stand wherever they wanted regardless of whether the train was moving. |
There were no windows, no doors, no cushions, no A/C, no [working] fans. We didn't pass much besides dilapidated apartment buildings and laundry drying on unused tracks. What was fascinating, however, was watching the constant flow of people on and off the train. Vendors would pass through selling tangerines (by weight!), freshly mixed noodle salads, and even ice pops. (I had a green apple ice pop that was really refreshing. I was too afraid of getting sick to try anything else.)
 |
| Weighing tangerines in the aisle of the train. |
 |
| Sleeping on the train. Even in the 95°F heat. |
After riding for about an hour I stopped and crossed some tracks to catch a train heading back downtown—construction meant that the a part of the circle was shut down. Incidentally, I made the switch at Insein station, near the eponymous prison formerly used by the military junta to detain and torture political dissidents.
 |
| Barbed wire outside the colonial-era Yangon regional courthouse. |
I wandered back into the city from the same ramshackle train station as before and stopped to try one of Myanmar's most well-known dishes, Shan noodles.
 |
| My Shan noodle soup. |
The dish originates from Shan State in northeastern part of the country, and it almost seemed like a different dish each of the three times I had it. The savory, chicken stock-based broth of this version wasn't too unfamiliar compared to other noodle soups I've had, but it came with these sticky rice noodles that I absolutely loved. It was at this restaurant that I also tried Burmese milk tea, which quickly became one of my favorite things about Myanmar. Afterwards, I headed to the shockingly hip and modern Rangoon Tea House to sample some more.
 |
| The menu and pawt saint milk tea at Rangoon Tea House. |
Rangoon Tea House had the most elaborate menu for milk teas, arranging them according to a bitter vs. sweet axis (up and down) and a sweet vs. rich axis. And then they were all illustrated to show the ratios of black tea to evaporated milk to condensed milk! During my two visits here, I tried four different varieties from the upper right (rich and somewhat sweet) portion for $1.30 each. It reminded me a lot of Thai milk tea, but Burmese milk tea was a bit less sweet and, consequently, so much less processed.
While I was there, I met an American woman who was towards the beginning of a round-the-world retirement trip. She was telling me about how she had visited Myanmar back in the '90s (with her daughter!) and could not believe how much it had changed. I can't even imagine what it must've been like visiting during the height of the country's isolation.
There was also a bar upstairs from the cafe that was running a happy hour. I couldn't help but try, for $2.60, a cocktail with fresh, local peach, roasted cumin seeds, bourbon, fresh lime, and simple syrup. It was a delicious way to end the day before watching the sunset from my hostel's roof terrace.
 |
| Downtown Yangon skyline with Shwedagon Pagoda in the distance. |
 |
| The Yangon River is in the background. |
Perhaps it's because Myanmar is so dry and sunny for its latitude, but the sunsets I saw during my whole trip were consistently stunning, perhaps more so than anywhere else I've ever been.
Later, I found more fantastic Indian food for dinner and then headed to sleep early. I had to make sure I got plenty of good rest before my overnight bus the following day, which happened to be Lunar New Year's Day.
 |
| Lanterns above Chinatown's small street fair. |
For my final day in Yangon, I decided to check out the city's Chinatown to see if there was anything going on for the holiday. Sure enough, there were tons of people and lanterns on the main street, with tents lined up in a lane closed to traffic. I'm not really sure what there was besides food, but every block or so there would be huge lines of people waiting for what I imagined had to be some sort of religious or spiritual rite.
 |
| A Burmese girl in Chinatown wearing thanaka. |
While I was taking advantage of the endless street photography opportunities, I managed to get the photo above. The girl above has thanaka on her face, which was very common among women and children (and some men as well) throughout Myanmar. It's a paste made from grinding a few kinds of local trees. It's a cosmetic that acts both as sunscreen and to cool the face, and it's often applied in designs and patterns.
 |
| More lanterns in Chinatown. |
After some time wandering, I realized that most of the nearby restaurants were closed, and I somewhat shamefully needed to go somewhere with at least a basic English menu available.
 |
| Burmese mutton curry and its various accoutrements. |
Thanks to my unbelievably reliable 4G connection, I found a recommended place to sample a traditional Burmese set meal. I was shown a choice of meats, and for whatever reason the mutton was calling out to me. I then got to choose between spinach and some other vegetable I forget. Once I sat down, they gave me rice, soup, and a plate of vegetables that looked disconcertingly stale under the fluorescent lights. Aside from that one plate, everything was really tasty! I really enjoyed the mutton in spite of its oiliness—which, for whatever reason, became a recurring theme in my experiences with Burmese food.
 |
| I've totally forgotten what this building was, but I think it was religious? I just liked the color. |
I headed back out in the heat to check out a large market with endless rows of fabrics and precious metals. With some time left to kill before I had to catch my night bus, I returned to Rangoon Tea House to have more milk tea.
 |
| Covered sidewalk in Chinatown. |
Thanks to Yangon's nightmarish traffic, my hostel suggested I leave for my 7:00pm bus at 4:30pm. It took an hour to reach the Aung Mingalar Highway Bus Station on the outskirts of the city. I was shocked to find that, despite its name, it wasn't really a bus station in the traditional sense of one or two central buildings shared by multiple operators.
 |
| Wandering around the bus "station." |
It turned out to be more like a sprawling shanty town of bus depots and open-air shops/restaurants. I found a heavily air-conditioned KFC amid the chaos and camped out for 45 minutes to charge my phone before my 13-hour bus ride to Inle Lake.
 |
| My seat on the night bus. |
My VIP night bus was shockingly comfortable, but more on that later. I'll be putting up a post about Inle Lake as soon as possible—I'm getting backlogged as I visit new places faster than I can edit photos and write posts about them! In the meantime, check out the rest of my photos! There's a lot of them, but I'm really proud of how they came out. (And I'm also starting to have an existential crisis about how I have all these pretty pictures from around the world that no more than like two people ever look at, but that's neither here nor there.)
Till next time,
Gray
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