Category Archives: Myanmar (Burma)

Myanmar… so should you go?

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The 14 states and divisions of Burma.

Myanmar... or Burma?

I meant to pop this up after I left, but was so busy posting the regular diary entries I forgot. Myanmar’s a tricky country to decide whether to visit mainly due to the way it’s run. The dictatorial government are sat at the top of the pile because they’re rich and to get richer. The actual population lives in relative poverty. Any time you visit you’ll be giving the government (usually referred to as The Generals) some of your hard-earned.

Thing is, you will also be giving cash to the locals with any luck. And depending on how you run your trip you should be able to ensure that the vast majority of your cash goes to the real people and not to the filth sat at the top of the pile. Gone are the days where you had to convert your cash into FECs upon entry to the country thereby ensuring further cash flow to the establishment. Unless you’re an NGO. They have to convert dollars to FECs and then these into Kyat so that they actually have money they can spend.

While there are a fair few beggars, hustlers and rip-off merchants they’re genuinely far less prevalent than in surrounding countries. The vast majority of people are open, honest and most definitely hard-working. They’re also happy to see a foreign face and to chat to you or help you out.

The day I got there, a fairly well-dressed man walked up to me and the chap I was walking with and shook our hands. He thanked us for visiting his country. To see their borders opening means this much to the people of Myanmar.

For the non city-dwellers, it’s even more of a novelty. Despite being on commonly-used hiking trails, the children and adults around Kalaw and Inle Lake never seemed less than delighted to see some foreigners. As is often the case, people who have little are more likely to offer to share what they do have with you than the rich and wealthy. A lot of these folk are subsistence farmers. They live on what they reap or can trade. The occasional person passing by who can drop them off some painkillers, toothpaste or whatever will be warmly welcomed.

I enjoyed Myanmar. It opened my eyes to how wonderful people can be even though they’re living under very poor rule. As far as I was able, I gave my dollars and kyat to the working people and not to The Generals. Don’t use the ferries, don’t use the train and don’t use the national airlines. Don’t pay the taxes, don’t pay the “entry fees” and don’t make their lives easy for them. Where you can, push your luck. You’ll find in Myanmar that unless you do something incredibly stupid the worst you’ll face is a telling off or a night in a jail… with the staff sat with you sharing their dinner (happened to someone I know when he entered an “off limit” zone without a permit).

Ignore the bleeding hearts who tell you not to go. The reaction of the “real” people when they see you is enough to tell you that you’d be doing a lot more good than harm by paying them a visit.

Check it out. It’s hard work getting round by bus, but it’s rewarding. Let them know that the world hasn’t forgotten about them. And if you see one of The Generals, spit in his face and steal his wallet.

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Aussie catch-up

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Hualamphong Station, Bangkok

Hualamphong Station, Bangkok

Fair bit of travelling since the last post, but I’ll try to breeze through it all. My flight from Yangon to Bangkok was on time, but I had some “fun” at the departure tax kiosk trying to convince them to accept a torn $5 bill and a $1 with the tiniest little rip in it. Two other passengers swapped the bills for me, stating how ridiculous the system was in Mynmar where the condition of the notes is so important. Their own currency can be battered, torn, ripped, covered in grease… and still accepted.

At Bangkok, I hooked up with another guy and two girls and we shared a taxi into the city. The chap and I were both getting off at Hualamphong while the girls were going on to Khao San Road. That involved a lot of haggling with the driver, but overall it worked out at around 50 baht each cheaper than getting the bus, and far faster.

At the train station I loafed in the KFC for an hour or so until my train was ready for boarding. A menu was provided for dinner and breakfast on the train, which would cost me 250 baht in total. You can take your own (non strong-smelling) food on board if you prefer, but the grub on board wasn’t too bad for the price.

The journey was quite long – departing at roughly 3pm and arriving at Butterworth in Malaysia around 2pm the next day (an hour ahead due to the time difference). It’s fairly comfy with large seats for the start of the journey. Around 10pm, the staff wander down and convert the seated areas into berths – one upper, one lower.  The upper ones are slightly cheaper and – apparently – slightly smaller, but certainly not cramped.

I enjoyed some brief conversation on the trip with two Japanese people travelling independantly of each other. I still find it unusual to see Japanese who aren’t on package/coach tours but they’re always very nice to chat with.

No hippies allowed!

No hippies allowed!

The customs stopoff as we crossed the border at Padang Besar was fairly casual, very much like the one coming from Singapore and heading north into Malaysia. However, here there are no x-ray machines. You still have to disembark with all your luggage, stamp out of Thailand, into Malaysia and then open your luggage. The check was cursory and polite with my bag being waved on after a quick prod and a query of “clothes?”

I did spot one sign as I queued at immigration giving details on how to spot a “hippie”. Click the thumbnail for the full details. I’m hoping this dates back to the 60’s and isn’t used these days!

At Butterworth, I haggled my bus fare down from 32RM to 28 (saving about 80p…) but had to find an ATM. If you’re arriving there off the train, go to the end of the platform to the station and look to the right. You’ll see a big glass building – the dental college. It’s about a five minute walk on the other side of the freeway. There are three banks located around the bottom with ATMs.

My 14:30 bus departed at 15:45 which wasn’t great. It was very comfy, though, with fully reclining seats and just the right level of aircon. It took quite some time to get to KL – over five hours – so it was rather late when I arrived.

The stage is set...

The stage is set...

I tried to find my guesthouse – Haven – but couldn’t spot it. As I stood looking puzzled, a man walked up and identified himself as one of the staff. Due to the heavy rain in KL recently, the ceiling had sprung a leak and they’d had to close down for repairs. He then walked me to another hostel nearby where they’d made arrangements for some of their guests to be houses. It was more expensive, but they were covering the difference. Nice place, too. So next time I’m in KL, I will be booking with Haven again and hoping their ceiling’s working!

I didn’t do much in KL apart from use the internet a lot and eat too much McD’s. I had some good company in the hostel, though, with Kiki from Vietnam, a German guy who’s name I didn’t get, James from England and a chap from Sri Lanka (now living in India) who I talked to for ages.

Then the usual Skytrain/bus combo to the airport (another McDs) and late flight to Perth where the lovely Mel picked me up after midnight. Immigration was a little hiccupy as I didn’t know Mel’s address. The usual rule – if it’s got an address space on it, fill it in. Even if you don’t know one, put any old nonsense in. The immigration guy was fine about it, to be fair, but it’s still one of those daft niggles. Back at her place I was introduced to Mason – 11 months old and cute as a button. He wasn’t around the last time I was in Perth!

Again, not a lot to do in Perth except lay back and chill out with Mel, Matt, Mason and Jezza. I bought a bundle of second hand books from an OpShop (charity place) for $4. The bill only came to $2.50 (a pound!) for about 12 books, but I don’t mind giving a charity shop a bit extra. My plan’s not to use aeroplanes so the extra bulk/weight shouldn’t be a problem.

Rocking hard!

Rocking hard!

The guys also had a gig in a nearby bar on Saturday night which I went to. They’re Matt drums, Mel sings and Jezza plays guitar. There’s also a bassist and another vocalist/guitarist who I met. The band’s called Crimson Ink and they’re pretty good! The sound was a little squelchy on their first set, but by the second and third they had a decent sized crowd up and dancing.

After the gig, there was a little altercation outside. Kids who couldn’t hold their beer – same all over the world. I helped break it up and ended up with blood down my arm and on my shirt. Not my blood, I hasten to add! And I don’t even know how it got there as I didn’t see anyone actually bleeding. Still, it all ended more or less peacefully and the venue seemed to like Crimson Ink – with luck it could mean a residency.

And that’s me up to date. I’m currently trying to get a lift to Adelaide ASAP. Failing that I’ll bite the bullet and get a flight. Tiger have one for the ridiculously low sum of $88 at 1:45am on Wednesday although I have to worry about those books. Hum.

Oh, I also have an Aussie mobile. If you need the number, contact me through the link on the right and I’ll give you it. It took me an age to register it as – like in the UK now or soon or planned – you have to register with a valid Australian address. Which is pointless as it’s not checked. The online registration refused to recognise Mel and Matt’s address, so I had to go through the voice recognition system over the phone. In an area with a really dodgy signal. Somehow I got it working though.

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One last pagoda

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A wave and a smile

A wave and a smile

After a better trip than the northbound one (comfier seats, more legroom, quieter telly and milder aircon) the bus arrived into Yangon at a little before 7am. I rebuffed all offers of a taxi and walked out of the bus station. This isn’t as easy as it sounds as the “station” is more like a vast industrial estate with many roads through it. The trick is to get your bags quickly and start following the full taxis as they’re heading for the main road.

South entrance

South entrance

Once there, I turned left towards the city and walked for about ten minutes until I was asked by a driver if I needed a taxi. From here, it was 4000K – around half what I’d have paid when I stepped off the bus. You can use this trick at the airport as well.

With a little luck and guidance we managed to find Motherland (2) where I’d stayed when I first arrived in Myanmar. A dorm bed was available and I dropped my things and sat down to breakfast.

I got talking to two guys in my dorm, both German. One’s in his fifties, I’d guess, and has been traveling for 6 years. The other is the guy who owns the tri-shaw that the NGO member I met 13 days ago told me about. He offered to pedal me up to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda as it was on his way to work. He also bought most of my Kyats back from me at the same rate I paid for them in US Dollars. Smart.

So big we couldn't steal it

So big we couldn't steal it

As he said as we were cycling, “this is the easiest way to get the locals to smile!” And smile they did as they watched a white guy pedalling another white guy along the street. They also clapped. And waved. And pointed. And told their friends to look. It was rather cool.

He dropped me a short walk from the Shwe Dagon Pagoda, the jewel in the crown of all the religous monuments in Myanmar. By all accounts a must-see even with the government-imposed $5 foreigner tax. As ever, I’m not averse to entrance fees if the cash goes to the upkeep of whatever it is you’re seeing, but not when it goes into some corrupt bum-wipe’s back pocket. My judgement is based on the opinion of the local people regarding skipping the payment. Unanimously it’s been “avoid it” and they know better than anyone else.

Little buildings

Little buildings

So skip it I did. It’s not tremendously easy, but the route I took was to walk round to the east entrance. Just past the guards on the entry there is a set of gates which were open. Up there as far as I could go and then across the walkway to the west entrance (with escalators, believe it or not). The ticket check is above the escalators, so the trick was to walk up the left hand stairs. Immediately at the top of these is an opening into the Pagoda itself. You have to be sneaky, but you can slip in this way without being seen.

Apparently the entry ticket includes a sticker you’re supposed to display prominently, but I’ve always found that these fall off anyway. None of the so-called inspectors seemed to be in attendance anyway so I just enjoyed myself.

Good luck

Good luck

It really is something special. Rather than simply being a load of bling, it’s like a small town surrounding an enormous (nearly 100m-tall) stupa covered in gold. All the buildings are different styles, colours and so on. Some people seem to have a preference for praying at one or another, I’m sure with good reason. But it really is pretty amazing.

The only downside was that the stupa itself is currently covered in a latticework as – I assume – work is done on it. Or as the generals steal a load of the gems encrusting the upper levels and replace them with coloured glass.

The main stupa

The main stupa

I was up there for almost two hours before sneaking past the desk again in case they got arsey about my lack of sticker. At the bottom of the stairs, two monks tried to get $1 out of me for looking after my shoes. Even though they hadn’t. It’s typical round here – the monks really are different from elsewhere in SE Asia. I’ve seen them begging, smoking, drinking, driving Jeeps, chewing betelnut… you name it.

On the walk back into town I stopped for a chilled Star Cola and to scratch a cat behind the ears. I was on the point of getting a pizza for lunch, but picked up a whole ear of boiled corn and half a pineapple. Even at the upper level of pricing for these (300K and 500K) it was cheaper than the pizza and better for me.

West entrance

West entrance

Back at the hostel, the older German chap bought a chunk of my US Dollars off me in exchange for Australian ones at the prevailing exchange rate, which will have saves me a bit. I’ll change the rest in KL as the commission in Oz is mad.

A quick trip up the road garnered me some sweets and beer for when the football’s on this evening and now I’m typing up the last few entries that I’ll upload in KL.

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The road from Mandalay

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Big book reader

Big book reader

I’d intended to wake really early and see the Buddha being washed at the Mahamuni Paya, but despite an early night I just wasn’t up to a 3am rise. Instead, I got up at 7, had breakfast and took a trip up to Mandalay Hill.

There are covered steps leading all the way up to the top with various pagodas on the way. A couple are quite basic, though the upper couple have some tall Buddha statues. The topmost one stands with his arm outstretched pointing to where Mandalay was to be built, and now stands.

If you’re lazy, you can now be driven up to the top via a relatively new road, but that takes the fun (and sweat) out of it.

Book storage

Book storage

At the bottom I snapped a picture of a wedding couple – it seems to be the season for it – and next stopped at the Sandamani Paya which contains 1774 marble slabs. Each is housed in its own mini-pagoda and is one page (well, two – they’re carved om both sides) of the Suttavinaya Abhidhamma, part of the teachings of Buddha. There’s a similar pagoda mearby which is far better maintained and which contains the Tripitaka canon. It’s also on the $10 ticket which I wasn’t wanting to pay and which my driver was happy about.

*pointy pointy*

*pointy pointy*

My next stop was at the university. The owner of the guest house I’d stayed at in Bagan had studied here and told me I must see the central building as it’s a great example of British colonialism – all huge columns and impressive steps. See it, I did. Get pictures, I did not. I was hastily shoo-ed away by the gate guardswho obviously mistook me for an anti-establishment oik with a penchant for blowing up educational structures with my laser canon cunningly disguised as a small camera.

It was nice, though. Honest.

Aw, ain't she sweet?

Aw, ain't she sweet?

I’d also wanted to go to the Shwe In Bin Kyaung in the “monk district” but my driver was after another 1000K to go there and I already felt I’d been overcharged for my morning as it was. It’s fun being driven around in a 45 year-old converted Mazda van, but the pleasure is only worth so much.

As such, I was back at the Royal somewhat earlier than anticipated. I was going to have a shower, but I’d left a near-ful bottle of gel in the bathroom the previous day and some bugger had nicked it. Instead, I walked off out to check my email, grab some lunch and organise a motorcycle to get me to the bus depot.

The bike came to 2000K, the lunch to 1800K (thick spaghetti-like noodles in a chicken curry sauce… served cold) and the internet to 800K. As it always seemed to, regardless of how long I was in there.

Going... up

Going... up

I finished off with a 500K orange drink from the stall I’d visited the previous day. By the time I got back to the hotel my motorbike was waiting for me. I was at the bus way before check-in time, loaded on with my luggage and we departed on the pip of 5pm.

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