Have Itch, Will Travel

Tea Shops One of our favourite things to do in Burma was to sit on teeny plastic stools at a roadside tea shop. There was one on a major intersection in Nyaungshwe , on Inle Lake. We had walked past it many times the previous days, noting to ourselves each time to sit there and people watch from its excellent vantage point. Next time, next time. On our final day in Nyaungshwe, we decided we would lunch there. Immediately after we chose a table, a boy no older than twelve greeted us and took our orders for coffee. Then all of a sudden, several plates seemed to sail right over to our little table, and loaded it with a terrific mixture of sweet pastries , fried doughs , samosas and moon cakes . Coconut, chick pea and a variety of bean pastes seemed to feature regularly. Rob and I looked at each other with slack jaws. Why hadn't we come here sooner? Tea shops were particularly plentiful in the big cities. We seemed to always find ourselves under the tarpaulin or umbrella of a te

So we loved the train travel in Burma, with its excitingly bumpy and rocking ride, but this does not help when you want to use the toilet! Indeed, I avoided it as much as I could, sometimes waiting for our destination to use the station toilets. I had surmised they would be a measure of clean, or at least a little bit more so, but it was not always the case. The bumping and swaying made it challenging enough for me to hover, and for Rob to aim ("I nearly pissed on my shorts!"), never mind the near complete darkness in some lavatories. It's enough to make you obsess over the damp soles of your shoes or flip flops. Then, there's the heat of day stagnating that windowless metal box, warming the misfires so you return to your seat, sniffing your clothes and asking your travel partner if you still smell like loo. Oh! What about station stops? The train would be stationary, won't it? I can hear you ask. Well, yes... But the thing is, there's a toilet, but no sept

Mid-October ! What a perfect time for our trip; before the high tourist season starts, but the end of the wet season. We knew we couldn't completely escape the rain, though. The first day in Yangon was hot and steamy , but as expected, the afternoon clouds rolled in. We were all too familiar with hot days and afternoon storms back home, and knew it wouldn't last. When the rain started, we were already inside a shop, a pharmacy, and sat on the dusty floor with our back packs as we waited it out. The pharmacy staff were accommodating enough to offer us some small plastic stools, which we accepted gratefully. This kind of generosity is not uncommon in Burma, it seems. After a pleasant walk north of Hsipaw to visit the Shan Palace and have lunch at Mrs Popcorn, Rob and I encountered another afternoon shower. This time, we sought shelter at the entrance of a small shop, and again, we were offered stools to sit on while we waited. Another time, it drizzled all afternoon… whe

Burmese train travel . It is the only way to get around in Burma. Rob and I had seen Anthony Bourdain's Burma trip in Parts Unknown , and decided that a crazy bumpy train ride was a must-have experience. So we plotted our route and ensured we would take every train that connected the towns we wanted to visit. In Yangon, we bought Upper Class tickets and boarded the train to Thazi. The train staff were helpful in locating our seats, since the numbers above the seats weren't always the actual seat numbers. We loaded our packs in the overhead racks, noting some of the locals had looped their bag straps through the rack to somewhat secure them. Could this be an indication of how bumpy the ride would be? Sitting down, we took in the scene around us. Upper Class was a carriage fitted with old airplane seats, upholstery torn and foam sagging. The scuffed lino was littered with days', maybe weeks', worth of dust and sunflower seed husks. Surprisingly, the seats were comfo

The first taste of Burma was had at Yangon, a typically grey South East Asian city. The streets were grey with dusty litter along the gutters, and the decaying buildings were grey with diesel soot. Even the hot blue skies were somehow still grey with the fumes of a developing country's uninhibited exhaust. Yangon's heat was another thing. Humidity and engine smoke stuck to our skin and lungs. But our train to Thazi would not leave for several hours yet, so we had to entertain ourselves in the old capital with loaded packs on our backs. The markets close to the train station provided a few hours of interest and some much needed water, but a walk around the blocks to take in Burma city life was just as rewarding. Vendors selling everything, from souvenirs and snacks to fruit and hardware, lined the sidewalks. Pedestrian traffic along some streets was as dense as the rattling traffic blaring their horns. We trudged up and down the laneways, gaping at the tall and narrow bu