Myanmar

June 2000

Myanmar – the “Golden Land” was formerly a British colony known as Burma. It has been under a military dictatorship since 1962 and for thirty years they kept the place under wraps and shut out the tourists. In the last decade, there has been a concerted effort to attract some dollars into the country and the tourists are trickling in. 200,000 arrived last year, 25% of which were Independent travellers. They still keep a tight hold. You can only fly in and out.

It is the largest country in South East Asia, with a combined size of the UK and France. The population of 47m is composed of 134 ethnic groups. It has a mixed culture with Indian and Chinese influence – both on its borders. With a tropical climate, it holds over 75% of the world’s teak reserves. It is a Buddhist country and they take their religion seriously.

When we arrived at Yangon airport, it was a shock to see no soldiers, and a clean and efficient terminal ornamented in gold gilt decorations. Only 2 other tourists got off the plane going to Bangkok.

The dictatorship forces all tourists to exchange $300 into Foreign Exchange Certificates (FECs). Mickey Mouse money (1 FEC = $1) that is irrelevant to the local currency (Kyat), but which is used to pay for hotels, govt transport and admission prices – all highly inflated. It was so cheap in Myanmar that there was no way we could spend $600 in a fortnight with our budget travelling techniques. Canadians in Nepal had told me that if you slipped a $10 bill in with just $300, they would let you in. I duly handed over $300 and he looked at us “You have a present for me?”. I slipped him the $10 and we were waved through. Great. Within 5 minutes of arriving, I am already bribing officials. It was a wise move. We only spent $350 between us in 16 days.

Passing the offers of $10 taxi rides downtown, we walked 2 kilometres out of the airport along clean, tarmac roads. No loose cows. No rubbish. No beggars. There was a huge golden sign at the main road which said “Welcome to Myanmar”. We had no Kyat to pay for the bus, but hopped on one and gave the conductor $1. He took it. Locals asked where we were going. “Downtown” I said. They told us we were going the wrong way. They told the conductor to give us our dollar back and at a bus stop, someone walked us across the road and waved down the correct bus. A man on board got talking. We told him we had no Kyat and he paid for the fares – 20 Kyat each (4p!). It was late Sunday afternoon, so no moneychangers were open. At the Tourist office, a woman exchanged $10 into Kyat for us out of her purse, and we gave our saviour a good tip. It was a great welcome to the country. Friendly people who would go out of their way to help us.

We were very taken with Yangon, the capital. (under the British it was called Rangoon) “The Garden City of the East”. It did not look like a city with 4 million people. It had wide dual carriageways, but minimal cars and looked very western. Lots of lush tropical trees and parks. Not many tall buildings. Wide roads in grid design and every street well marked. It was easy to find your way around. It was also very clean and tidy. It was 34’C with 75% relative humidity causing constant sweating. Since it was the rainy season, downpours occurred on a regular basis.

We were dropped at the lovely looking Sule Paya pagoda with a huge golden spire. We walked a few blocks to the Mayfair Inn – a clean and comfortable guesthouse on a back street. Wandering around the streets that night we discovered Arnold Schwarzenegars’s latest movie on at the cinema (40p admission!), but we passed. The prices of everything seemed to be really cheap.

The locals are football mad. The local youths spend their free hours standing in a circle, trying to keep a ball in the air. So popular a pursuit that it is even on the back of one of their currency notes. The Euro 2000 final was on at midnight and I sat up with the Guesthouse owner and his son watching it. They watched whatever European football was on Sat.TV.

Jo had come down with something and felt lousy. A chest infection/flu left her very lethargic. But all our sightseeing was in the north and with only a fortnight, we had to get moving. The next morning while she lay in bed, I did some business – changing half our FECs into Kyats (510 to the English pound which was an incredible rate). Reconfirming flight tickets (and complaining to Biman Airlines about the theft – “I’d just like you to know that I have flown nearly 600 times and have never had anything stolen – apart from your airline on 2 different flights!). I also made a visit to an English language school to enquire about teaching possibilities, but the Director was away.

The Government English language newspaper “The New Light of Myanmar” (1p) is a giggle. The date line reads “3rd Waxing of Weso 1362 ME” (Buddhist date). Above the title was a large banner “Anakula ca Kammanta” (“to be engaged in peaceful occupation, this is the way to auspiciousness”). In the top right hand corner were the Government’s 4 political, 4 economic and 4 social objectives. There were also the 4 “People’s Desires”:

The top story was headed “State Peace and Development Council Chairman Senior General Than Shane sends felicitations to Belarus”. In fact most internal news was just about Government meetings where they listed all attendees and their official titles – which was not riveting. But it did have a lot of World News. The best we had seen anywhere.

Myanmar TV had some great programs. Here are a few:

Despite Jo’s condition, I had booked an overnight bus to Mandalay (ok so I’m relentless and heartless), where she could recover and I could do the sights. We caught a bus to the Bus station out near the airport (22km from town) and rolled onto an air conditioned tourist bus where the driver was playing a Burmese heavy metal band “Iron Cross” doing Black Sabbath’s “Fairies Wear Boots”. I was starting to love this country.

The 13-hour bus ride leaving at 5pm and covering 670km was really comfortable – free mineral water and 3 meals included in the $10 price. At rest stops, we just rolled into cafes which were already set up and helped ourselves to the food and tea. There was a lovely scarlet sunset as we crossed flat green rural scenery with lots of bamboo huts with straw roofs. The TV video was a little haphazard. We got half of James Bond’s “The World Is Not Enough” then moved into the middle of various Burmese films. Nothing started at the beginning and we never saw the end of anything. I guess James Bond survived to make another dull film.

We rolled into Mandalay around 6am. The hotel touts had a new tactic. They didn’t bother you much as the bus arrived, but held up signs for the hotel they worked at. You just chose the guesthouse you wanted and off you went. We had the Royal Guest House in mind and with our rep, we caught a tiny taxi pickup van (where we sat on benches in the open back).. It was very comfortable – en suite room, air-conditioned and a good breakfast for $5 each. I left Jo to continue her recovery (she didn’t forgive me for days) and off I went.

Mandalay was the third and final capital of the Myanmar Empire. Founded in 1857 it is now a bustling commercial centre (and second largest city) and a showcase for 19th century Myanmar art and architecture. I walked down to the wide muddy Ayeyarwady River and caught a rickety wooden boat to Mingam, one of the 4 “ancient” cities that surround Mandalay. To reach the boat, I had to cross half a dozen other boats which were floating houses – they all had a wooden outhouse hanging off the back.. We pottered along the river for 11km past wooden bamboo houses on stilts by the water’s edge. Water buffalo grazed on fields which were really just water with grass growing above the surface.

Mingam is dominated by the gigantic ruined cracked brick base of the Paya which would have been the World’s largest Buddhist structure had it ever been completed. You can still walk to the top of the colossal structure, but you have to take your shoes off and those bricks were hot. From the top, I had a fine view over the village and surrounding scenery. There was also a huge 90-ton bell (which would have been placed on top). It is the largest intact bell in the world. The only larger one, which I had seen at the Kremlin in Moscow had large cracks. Buddhist monks hit it with large wooden logs to let me know what it sounded like (i.e. a large bell).

I was introduced to a strange Burmese recreation – Karaoke Bars! For some reason, they love to stand in front of TV screens with a microphone watching a Burmese pop video and attempting to sing the words. It goes all day and night and they don’t even drink beforehand. It is an acquired taste. I never acquired it, because they had no taste. But it is strange to wander around a Buddhist shrine with painful warbling emanating from a local café nearby. They were everywhere in Myanmar. Nevertheless, there was a healthy Burmese Heavy Metal/AOR scene. It was the best music I’d heard in months.

Returning to Mandalay, I walked around the huge fort which dominates the centre – about 8km of looming 30ft red walls surrounded by a wide moat. It took me 2 hours to walk around it . Inside was a reconstructed palace (the Japanese burnt it down in 1942), but everyone said it wasn’t worth the $5 admission. The Govt controlled admission prices in Myanmar were vastly over inflated. To do all the Mandalay sights would have cost $25. I contented myself by walking up to them, taking a photo and passing. I had already seen enough Buddhist stupas. But the Burmese ones are well maintained. Huge gold plates or gilded affairs which look wonderful , surrounded by whitewashed walls and ornate decorations within.

Near the fort, I visited (by sneaking in the locals’ entrance which was free) the Kuthodaw Paya which had 729 small temples (like large white pointed beehives), each sheltering a marble slab inscribed with Buddhist scriptures. The central golden pagoda made it 730 and it was called the “largest book in the world”. I thought this was a bit far-fetched. Finding a café, I ordered everything on the menu. The spicy food of various dishes was too much for even me to eat. It cost 40p. Myanmar beer is ice cold and excellent.

The next day, Jo had sufficiently recovered to accompany me to Pyin U Lwin, an old British hill station formerly called Maymyo after a British Colonel May. We caught a pickup truck. Jo paid extra to sit in the driver’s cab. I sat in the back on a hard wooden bench with about 20 other locals and their luggage (fortunately no goats or chickens!). These trucks are the local share taxis and they cram as many people as possible into them. They sit on the roof, they hang off the sides and back. We were charged an inflated price to the locals because the police checks on the road charge the drivers more bribery money if they spot a tourist aboard (some hope with so many people on it).

We left the Mandalay suburbs and started the gradual ascent of 800m, through the jungle vegetation passing 3 police checkpoints. We found the army presence in the country minimal but they like to keep the tourists confined to the major sights. After an hour, the gear stick snapped. There was no fuss. We pulled into a village. A local youth was aroused from his nap. He disassembled the steering wheel, sent a kid off with the broken gearstick to get it welded and reassembled it all within an hour. If it had been England it would have been “oooh, can’t fit it in, more than my job’s worth, it’ll be ready in 3 days”. The radiator also liked to boil so when the steam enveloped the windscreen, the driver would stop to refill it.

Mayamo was in better shape than the Indian hill stations we had visited. A market town, with old English mansions on the outskirts called Candercraig. It poured with rain. Horses and carriages were the local transport, but we walked around. We visited the famous 1904 Candercraig Hotel – a pink Tudor styled building in fine grounds and sat and read the visitors’ book which continually complained about lousy food and service and dirty bedsheets. It had obviously dropped in standards and we were glad we were using cheap guesthouses. The bungalow styled train station looked like it was built of Lego bricks. The return journey would take 5 hours by train. We returned on a pickup in 2 and ½ hours.

Our final day in Mandalay was spent on rented bicycles to explore the other 3 “ancient” cities. At the Mahamumi Paya on the outskirts there were a host of astrology and fortunetellers at the entrance with large “Hand” designs of the lifelines (all in Burmese). Inside the colourful complex (more gold and sparkling glass everywhere) was a massive 5 ton gong. Outside, local sculptors chipped away at white marble creating Buddhas. They had a good market in this country.

We peddled into the “City of Immortality” - Amarapurna – 11km south of the city. In another Buddhist complex, I saw a huge 100ft reclining Buddha built of plaster, and a maze of gold plated Buddhas within the main shrine. A massive sitting 60ft Buddha statue outside looked like a green Cobra from behind.

We walked across the old rickety 1.2km wooden U Bein’s bridge, beneath which, local fisherman stood waist deep in water with their rods. Then onto Ava, another old “city” (the dirt streets were a foot underwater with the rain) and across the river via the Ava Bridge to Sajaing (traditionally a monastic retreat) to peddle around hills completely swamped with 400 pagodas and temples. I had never seen so many Buddhist shrines as Myanmar presented. Every one was different, but there are only so many you can take in.

Myanmar has strange bicycle rickshaws. In previous countries, we had sat up behind the cyclist in a raised carriage. Here, they had sidecar contraptions. One passenger sat facing forwards, one backwards, by the side of the cyclist.

I wanted to catch a train up into northern Myanmar through the jungles – but the train journey could take anything from 24-40 hours one way and was highly unreliable. At the train station, there was no information in English and we decided to pass on it. We couldn’t afford to get stranded up north with so little time, especially when there was so much to see elsewhere. We had flown over the jungles on our way to Yangon.

We headed west to Bagan using we used the expensive ($16), but very comfortable Government fast boat to cover the 9 hour trip (15 hours on a local boat). Leaving at 6am, it only stopped four times, and local women would wade into the river holding up trays of samosas and snacks and pass them through the windows. We sailed past Sajaing with its hills of pagodas, which looked even more impressive from the boat. The landscape was flat and green with the occasional low lying hill and tree.

As we approached Bagan, towering temples and pagodas appeared. We had met a hotel tout on board promising a great place in Nyaung-U (the main tourist town) and he was right. The usual standard at only $3 each, we checked in for 3 nights. It was so quiet in Bagan. Horse driven carriages were the preferred transport and there was virtually no motor traffic.

Bagan is the main tourist attraction in Myanmar. It was the first capital of the empire in the 11th Century and is one of the richest archeological sites in SE Asia. Situated on the eastern banks of the Ayeyawaddy River, the 42 sq. km contains 2200 temples and pagodas from the 11th – 13th century. It was sacked by Kublai Khan in 1237 and deserted. After a major earthquake in 1975 caused major damage, it was reconstructed to present one of the most memorable sites I have ever visited.

We spent two days on rented bicycles along dirt track lanes exploring the towering structures that were everywhere. Any other tourists were swallowed up by the sheer size of the site. It would be boring to list everything we saw, but a few places were memorable. The Shwezigon Pagoda (1084) near our guesthouse, was a glittering mass of gold leaf and became the prototype for Myanmar pagodas thereafter. The souvenir stallholders were merciless here, but we found the World’s smallest photo lab. An old man perched inside a wooden box – about 6ft by 4ft. Jo’s camera was playing up so she dropped in a film. The results were terrible – due to both her camera and the photo lab.

At the fabulous 12th Century Dhamma Yan Gyi Patho, which had a massive gold leaf dome, we were able to climb up for a view over the southern part of the site. Temples filled the horizon. There are only a couple of temples that you can climb up to view the sunsets/sunrise. We never saw good versions of either (wrong time of year), despite me peddling off at 5am and both of us perched on the balconies around 7pm. But it was lovely to just watch the darkness fall/appear over the endless temples beyond. It was like being in an ancient world. Some of the largest golden pagodas were spotlit at night adding further atmosphere. Bats would fly around the interiors after dark.

The Ananda Pagoda (1091) was probably the best. One of the finest, largest, best preserved , most revered (and still used) of the Bagan temples. It housed four towering standing Buddhas (9.5m in height), representing Buddhas who had achieved Nirvana.

The endless tall temples of Bagan were mostly composed of red brickwork, some still covered in white plasterwork which was probably originally painted in bright colours. Inside each one, was a Buddha of varying size. Some were golden gilded over 30ft high. The red temples looked magnificent against the yellow sand and green vegetation. I found Bagan simply enchanting and one of the best places I have ever visited.

An old city wall protected the old town of Bagan. Not much remains but the eastern gate is still guarded by the revered statues of Lord Handsome and Lady Golden Face. They looked like Punch and Judy. In a dusty village, we saw a beautiful horse being fed under a bamboo stable with a straw roof. It belonged to one of the carriage drivers. He gave us a lesson on how to replace a new horseshoe, the Burmese way. Jo was in her element. The Bagan Golf course was pretty plush. The ClubHouse was a huge golden gilded building with temples dotted around the course. At least if you sliced, there was a fair chance that it would rebound off something. Imagine playing golf around 1000 year old ruins!

We became regulars at an outside café. Our beautiful tiny waitress had white sandalwood powder on her cheeks which was common among many Burmese women. This is both a traditional decoration and also to keep the skin protected from the sun. Even babies had it daubed over their heads. The Myanmar women are very good looking in a rustic kind of way. Polite, pretty and hard working. It appeared an equal society (as opposed to Muslim countries). Men and women socialised together. Everyone did his or her bit.

But everyone’s teeth are in a terrible state. Crooked with large gaps, they all look like retired boxers. The men’s teeth (those that have them) are stained red with chewing beetle juice. There are beetle juice stands everywhere. A large beetle leaf is covered with a white sticky limestone paste . When they chew it, it turns red and they gob out large amounts of juice. Walking down the street, you seem to step over pools of blood.

At our guesthouse, Buddhist monks would roll up early in the morning in their orange or pink robes. Clutching a black stone bowl early in the morning, they would visit to get a free helping of rice and occasionally curry. Apparently it is one way for busy people (i.e. hotel staff) who do not have time to go to a temple, to lighten their conscience. We saw this everywhere around Myanmar. Half the population seemed to be monks getting free meals. In one village, I counted a procession of 80 monks on their way to claim free food. I was tempted to borrow a robe and do it myself, but I didn’t have a shaven head!

We also did a day trip to Mount Popa – about 65km outside Bagan. Another uncomfortable pickup which overheated. I think we got 50 people on this one. We gradually ascended from the flat dusty plains into forested hills for an inspiring view of this Buddhist monastery perched at 1520m on an old volcanic plug. As we tramped up to the summit, chattering monkeys jumped around looking for food, while a dog threw up whatever it had just eaten. For any golfers, the Mt Popa golf course also has inspiring views, though don’t bother to look for your ball if you slice.

Our 4.30am bus picked us up at the guesthouse for the long 10-hour trip eastwards to Lake Inle. En route, as we wound around twisting dusty roads through the jungle, I climbed onto the roof with two American missionaries (Skip and Cody – amicable young men) for great views of the scenery and constant branches smacking our heads. A rainstorm finally forced us into the bus.

In one town, there was a colourful procession that held up the traffic. It was led by a dancing white faced “clown” (who looked like Boy George), leading a band. Behind them filed lines of small children gradually increasing in height and age. Then women carrying luggage on their heads for the dozen small boys who sat in sparkling decorated pink costumes astride sparkling decorated horses. Every boy had an entourage carrying tall golden parasols. It was the ritual of boys joining a Buddhist monastic order. Every boy (aged 5-15) in Myanmar is given the opportunity to become a “trainee monk” (Samanera). Few keep going to become a fully ordained monk (Pongyi) but it is a great honour for the families to participate in the initiation ceremony (Shiniyu) which was what we saw filing past. It is an expensive ceremony so families split the cost.

We were dropped at Shwenyaung Junction, and a rep from our ‘recommended’ guesthouse ‘Remember Inn’ was waiting. He drove us 15km down to the town of Nyaungshwe to another lovely guesthouse with an excellent breakfast for $3 each. They even had a video in the lounge and you could go to a video shop and rent a video. I rented “The Matrix” for 10p (no deposit!).

Nyaungshwe was a sleepy town by the river just north of Lake Inle. The riverside was full of wooden warehouses containing millions of tomatoes. These were grown on the ‘floating gardens’ of the lake and shipped in by ‘longboats’. I’d call it the Tomato centre of the world.

Wandering around in the late afternoon, the post office was closed but the Post office mistress opened up for us to buy beautiful Myanmar stamps. We had heard Buddhist warbling coming over loudspeakers and we entered a local pagoda where an old man dressed in white and a white headband recited the Buddhist mantra into a microphone (the same one we heard by the nuns in Nepal). He did this 5 times a day waking us up and as we fell asleep. Nice work if you can get it.

The next morning, we rented bicycles and pedalled off to a local market 10 miles down the road. Local men with their wives were returning from the market on bullock carts – a wooden carriage with two huge wooden wheels driven by two enormous white bullocks ( a major means of transportation outside the cities). Local women in their traditional dress (towels around their heads), balanced a wooden support across their backs with two baskets filled with produce hanging on either side. They pretended to be shy about having their photos taken but loved it anyway.

The market was situated by the river. There are no roads around the lake so ‘longboats’ (50ft wooden canoes either motorised or paddle driven) are the only transport. Both sellers and buyers arrived and left by longboat. The small covered stalls sold everything from ‘longis’ (wrap around trad dress) to hand rolled green cigars which both men and women smoked. There was a 30-minute downpour which flooded out the market, but they loaded the boats just the same.

The great thing about Myanmar is that the food is so cheap. You can sit down in a market stall, point at anything that takes your fancy (I loved the Chinese soups) and it costs peanuts. As a tourist, they will offer everything available so you get to try lots of different dishes.

We found the people in Myanmar very friendly and not overbearing. They would yell “Hey you” and “Hello” as you passed by. Most people did not speak English but those that did, came up while we ate and chatted and liked to hear that we were from England. It was a lovely colourful country to photograph.

With Skip and Cody, the Americans, we rented a longboat for the day to take in Lake Inle (£1 each for the 8 hour trip). We had wooden chairs in the boat and were handed umbrellas by the driver’s petite wife, which we needed with the regular downpours. Inle Lake is 22km long and 10km wide. We were taken to the local market in a downpour – it was like the Somme - where I haggled for an opium pipe and opium scales with brass weights in the shapes of mini Buddhas. We visited a blacksmith, silversmith, wood carving and weaving centres – all in houses perched above the river on bamboo stilts. We watched a longboat maker constructing a longboat from just wood, tar and sealing. One took 150 days to build and cost $350 – good value but I couldn’t ship it home. Finally we rolled into the Nga Pha Kyang monastery where the monks smoked cigarettes. Apparently there are different levels of Buddhist behaviour. New tourist attractions were the cats that jumped 4ft into the air vertically. Not something you see everyday.

Lake Inle is famous for it’s one-legged rowers. An oar is stuck down inside their ‘longi’, allowing them to stand and row with one leg look out for weed and obstacles on the lake. They looked like Douglas Bader trying to row standing up. I’d have sat down and got on with it. Despite the rain, it was a lovely day trip and was a fine illustration of lake life in Myanmar.

Returning south we had to sit out an 18 hour overnight bus ride, through the jungles and roads submerged from the incessant rain. We pulled into Bago – 80km north of Yangon, bleary eyed at dawn, to visit the 14-16th Century second capital of the Myanmar Empire. It was almost like an Indian town. Cows wandered down the streets eating rubbish and packs of dogs snapped at your feet. It rained incessantly. What a grim place. The “San Francisco’ guest house was about as far removed from that great city that you could find.

Nothing remained from the original capital but it did contain the tallest Buddhist stupa in Myanmar – Shwedagon Paya – which looked like a large narrow golden bell with a long handle facing downwards (“Big deal” – Jo). We wandered around the busy streets and bought Chinese peaked hats at the market (40p each – which would turn out to be a nightmare to post home).

A monsoon rainstorm hit us in the afternoon. Within 20 minutes, the gutters were a foot deep in water. Tiny frogs hopped around in their element. Lizards fled for the trees, monks sheltered under umbrellas and locals peddled on regardless. It was miserable. I passed on the $3 admission to see the longest reclining Buddha in Myanmar. The postcard was cheaper.

Bago did offer us the most interesting menu we had seen. Here are a few of the delights: Quail egg and fish ball soup, chicken giblet with salted veg soup, boiled crab thumb, sweet and sour cuttlefish, hot and sour eel, 3 different kinds of prepared squid (sweet), sweet and sour pig tripe, fried ducks webs with oyster sauce, stewed duck with sea-leech, stewed goat’s brain with quail eggs, fighting-ball cabob, chicken shark’s fin soup, stewed pigs brain, fried frog, air bladder soup (my favourite!), treasure quail, family luck. Despite these offerings, the food was the best we had tasted in Myanmar.

Another plan had been to visit the Golden Rock pagoda southeast of Bago, but the 12-hour bus/pickup truck return trip (after our 18-hour marathon) just didn’t seem to warrant the effort. The constant rainstorms redeemed our decision, but apparently it is worth the effort.

Back in Yangon, our final sight was the spectacular Shwedagon Paya (apparently one of the ‘wonders of the world’). It was the start of Buddhist lent so joining the thousands of locals we were able to skip the $5 admission price but it would have been worth paying anyway.

Dominating the entire city from its hilltop site, this is the most sacred Buddhist temple in Myanmar. 100m high, the current stupa dates from the 18th century. Over 8000 gold plates cover the central stupa and the top of the spire is encrusted with 5.000 diamonds and 2,000 other semi/precious stones. The compound around the pagoda has 82 other buildings. Taking off our shoes, we followed the throng , to witness a wonderful monument. Locals prayed by shrines and poured water over the heads of statues. Most of the golden Buddhas had been covered in shawls. It was a maze of mind-blowing shrines with scarlet-clad monks praying and locals smoking and hanging around.

Outside the pagoda was a lake where the Burmese army apparently washed the blood off their swords after the English-Burmese wars in the 19th century. Surprisingly, there was no mention that they got their butts kicked big time.

The latest “New Light of Myanmar” newspaper (dated “Full Moon of Waxo”) gave me the low-down. It had an amazing top story headed “Aungmyebodi Dhamma Yeiktha Dhammacariya Tekkatho Alodawpyi Kyaungtaik Holds Waso Robe Offering Ceremony” (try saying that after a few Myanmar beers!). The editorial entitled “The Full Moon of Waxo” told me that Buddhist Lent was about to commence. In a day of special significance to Buddhists because “more than 2,500 years ago, Gautama Buddha delivered his first sermon”, it was also the day that mankind first heard the way to salvation when he expounded the Four Noble Truths:

He held that all existence is suffering (living in Bangladesh)

There was also a great story on a British Local Authority (Lambeth) who sent a letter to a man in April to tell him that his tax benefit was being stopped – because he was dead! They told him that he could appeal against his decision. “Your council tax benefit has been stopped … because there has been a change in your circumstances, the change is because you are dead” the letter said. Apparently it was blamed on “human error” (What? No computers involved? – I don’t think so).

At the market, I tried the infamous Durian fruit (banned from most airlines because of the smell). It looks like a green punctured basketball covered in spikes. When you cut it open, the smell is so bad you want to close it. But inside, around the huge stone is a white sticky substance that tasted like custard dipped in sherry. After a few mouthfuls it was lovely, but taking the remnants back room, we were forced to ditch it. It stunk us out. We chilled out at a local café and found more interesting menu items: webs with squids, bishop’s nose fry, hot and dry eels, tripe salad, crab scambled egg and giblet fry.

Reluctanty, it must be said, we caught a local bus to the airport to catch our 1pm flight to Bangkok. We noticed huge signs en route which said “A warm welcome to the Vice president (name forgotten) of the Republic of China”. As we walked into the airport, the road sweepers were out in force and the army and police mobilised. They were gearing up for his arrival. As we sat in the departure lounge waiting for our flight, an Air China plane touched down. Red carpet treatment, women presenting flowers to him (in army uniform) and the missus (well dressed in blue western design clothing). I wondered if they would be forced to change $300 each into FEC currency at the passport counter . I was not allowed to take photos but I did see him mouth the words “Has that blroody Brob Jack left me any beer?”. Which was nice.

Myanmar - a wonderful country. The best since Iran and Nepal. Get over here before the rest of the world finds out!

Travel - £31.84