Woke up naturally at 4.30am and wrapped myself in a bathtowel to go down to the beach. The air was none too warm, but the water was the same temperature as ever. Swirled about in shining bubbles of gleaming plankton water.
Ate our Styrofoam packed breakfasts of bread with butter and jam mushed between, and coffee mix and tea, on the porch. Lello helped one of the young girls carry my pack to the reception. There two motorbikes awaited us; Kenbos. Lello got a big kick out of asking his driver what brand the bike was: ‘Suzuki? Honda? Yamaha?’ only to be greeted with a long pause, then an excited ‘Kenbo!!!!!’ from the driver. They took turns honking the horn, and laughed.
Our bus was a Fusi, which in Italian means ‘broken down’ or ‘worn out’ or some such. It didn’t help instill confidence that six men were pushing it from behind to get it started. Lello said this was normal; he’d had a motorbike where you had to hammer on a side-engine of some kind to kick start the main engine, this was the same thing. I love how he comes out with practical wisdom about things relating to car-human- and animal-interactions; it’s very reassuring. I paced up and down the village main street and took some photos, and Lello got talking to a Burmese couple. I overheard him talking about how he misses a good espresso, and how coconut oil is really expensive in Italy.
The bus left shortly after 6.30am. Our seats were up front behind the driver (good), again on top of a wheel (less good). The bus wound its way over the hills, roller-coaster like, and the woman behind me spent that part of the ride puking out the window. There was an older monk with a young child across the aisle from us, and a woman seated in the aisle, who all sat dozing. One other Western couple was half-way back, denizens of one of the fancy hotels up the beach; the woman promptly pulled out a neck pillow and closed her eyes.
Back through Pathein, past some crews working on paving the road, through flat landscapes with fields and banana trees. Stopped at a store that sold umbrellas and different kinds of sticky rice paste delicacies (I bought some, along with a box of fried banana chips like the ones the girl on our last bus ride shared with me), and got some steamed corn for on the bus. Stopped by the roadside about 1 1/2 hr from Yangon and had some watermelon (nice and fresh) and some banana-leaf-wrapped sticky rice sandwiching banana paste (not so nice).
Got into Hljang Thar Yar bus terminal about 1.30pm, and were determined to thwart the expensive taxi drivers and take a bus. We managed to find the stop outside the entrance to the terminal, and got pointed to the second bus in the row. Had a jolly ride in, sitting on the long side bench by the door being entertained by the energetic caller-conductor. ‘Sule sule sule’ he’d belt out, along with the other stops the bus would be making, into the wind as we drove or directed at pedestrians when the bus slowed down enough, grinning as though he were sharing the news of a great lottery win with the world. ‘He jumps around like a cricket,’ thought Lello. More like a monkey, I’d say, swinging in and out of the bus using the central door pole as his grip. Took about an hour to get to Sule Paya, whereas a taxi takes about 30mins (on empty streets, it’s true). The bus cost 300K each, the taxi would have been about 6000K.
The streets were wet when we got into Yangon, and it started raining lightly when we got off the bus at 46th Street and headed down Maha Bandoola Rd and left on Bo Myat Tun St to Yamo Hotel. We overshot slightly, so walked down a block of Bogyoke Aung San Rd we’d not been down even though it’s just one block from Yamo Hotel, and discovered a host of bustling Indian eateries.
Got to Yamo and the reception told us we were in 501 (miracle of miracles) but that it was being cleaned and wouldn’t be ready until 3.30pm, so we went for a 1/2hr wander and got some noodles at a stand just down the street. I had noodles, that is, and Lello got them to concoct the same soup but with rice for him; after some initial confusion he got not only steamed rice but also a bowl of broth, and onion and parsley and cut-up fish-stick for flavor.
Finally found a working sugar cane juice vendor on the way back to Yamo, and got an extra one for the tiny waif who stood before us looking pitiful and holding out her hand and rubbing her stomach. Seeing her success, her companion (sister? cousin? friend?) came and gave us the same look, but Lello signed that one was all they were getting. We motioned for them to share, but the acquirer walked off sucking on the straw without looking at the other child, who hung back like a dog that’s been kicked.
Called Thae Nu and she said cryptically that she was waiting, but when I asked if everything was ok said hurriedly ‘ok, ok, I come to Yamo at 4.30pm.’
Thae Nu didn’t arrive at 4.30pm, and then Zaw Zaw called to say she wouldn’t be able to make it since her relatives had arrived. Ah, capisco, that’s what she was waiting for at 3.30pm: their arrival. She promised to be at the airport at 7.15am tomorrow morning, to see Lello off.
Headed out for some BBQ on 19th Street, where we'd met Dan and Ros way back when. Checked to see if Bogyoke Market was open, but it wasn’t. Turned left following the fence along the side walk, past the umbrella makers and Carolina’s tea stall, but she wasn’t there and the stall was all packed up; maybe she doesn’t work on the weekend, or maybe it’s the rain. Our sign maker wasn’t in his usual spot either. Walked down Anawrahta Rd vaguely looking for green tea and a teapot for Lello, but spotted neither. First thought the BBQ was on 29th St, then remembered just how far we’d walked to get there, and the four-sided overpass at the intersection with Sule Paya Rd, and the concentration of mosques along the way.
Approached BBQ Street from the south side this time. Brushed off restaurant hawkers to settle in at a motherly woman’s stall, where we could see the grill. She gave us an empty basket to fill with skewers, and shoved another filled with chopped vegetables under our noses, nodding. We ended up with a selection of meats (chicken, pork wrapped around bean sprouts, mutton) and vegetables (ochre, broccoli, taro, potatoes), and had the basket of vegetables stir-fried in an anise-spiked spicy sauce. Actually, we downed our Myanmar draught beers in seconds flat, that’s how spicy it was. Finished with grilled corn that they cut off the cob for us, much to Lello’s disappointment (‘I wanted to’ – and he mimed gnawing a cob of corn). Not a spectacular dinner, but it had its tasty moments. Rich at 8600K. A woman with a crutch and a beautiful voice passed by singing in the street, and I donated to her begging bowl.
Walked the long walk back from 19th Street to 46th Street along market stalls and Sule Paya and Trader’s Hotel.
Went to the internet shop to burn Lello's photos to DVD and check email. Lello was dozing off to more TV footage of the tsunami when I got back.
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