Yangon

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 buildings that reached out to each other with their telephone and electricity cables. Activity abounded everywhere we turned, and it was difficult to avoid a misstep on an uneven concrete slab with so many things demanding our attention.

It was hot, dirty and noisy. I turned to Rob and found my grin reflected in his face as well. If the rest of Burma was going to enthuse our sensations the same way, the next two weeks were looking pretty damn exciting.