Based on our previous experiences within Myanmar, it was safe to say that going to another sprawling city sat slightly behind having my fingers being nibbled off by a chinchilla on my list of things to do. After being dumped off at the side of a road by a rather luxurious night bus, we eventually ambled our way towards a hostel. To kill the 8 hours before check in, we went to China Town where there were loads of bright, happy people shouting about their chicken feet and watermelons for sale (sold separately). As such, we stayed as long as we could to take in everything around here which left us with exactly 7 hours and 48 minutes sat limply in the check-in area.
After recuperating in a cool, darkened room for a few hours, I decided Phoebe deserved a treat so I took her to Happy Land. In this magical place there are clowns on stilts dancing to techno music, a knock-off anaemic Mario statue and various swan pedalos parked against a lakeside with untamed youths smoking cigarettes within them. After an hour of this she was suitably cheered up so we went to Shwedagon pagoda – a really big version of what we’d seen everywhere else. It was actually quite fun; the monks were quite chatty and the whole area was pretty magnificent, especially when the final light of the sun was lingering.
To those of you reading who have jobs, our next day was filled with the arduous task of sitting on a rickety train for three hours to end up exactly where we started; all for the extortionate price of 12 pence. The Yangon circular railway travels at about 15mph and acts as a part time conveyor belt for various fruits and veg – I have never got to know a sack of spring onions as well as that day. After an adrenaline rush like that, we retired to the hotel room, emerging once to briefly witness someone cooking larvae on a hot plate. We swiftly decided that it was the time to leave Myanmar.
Alec and Phoebe