Down in Darkest Burma

Hello, Outside World! Finally found an internet cafe that knows how to get round the censors (would you believe that blogger.com is banned along with Lonely Planet: the latter I can understand as they are incredibly critical of the regime but I haven't started yet). We arrived at around 1800hrs just over two days ago. After a bit of preliminary checking of exchange rates and taxi prices at the airport we jumped into an unbelievably old Nissan Bluebird and rattled our way to the Park Royal Hotel in downtown Yangon. It son became apparent that all the taxis were of the same dilapidated state. Very few had doors with window winders, door handles, linings (just bare metal); few had working seat belts or even windows. Whilst on the subject of traffic, Yangon is completely devoid of motor bikes or scooters. We asked a local who explained that some kid had annoyed a general by driving aggressively around him so he just banned the lot. Not a bad move as the roads are easier to negotiate than in most Far Eastern countries. Our hotel turned out to be exceedingly expensive; the exchange rate we were offered was $1:650Kyat whereas we knew that the going rate was $1:850Kyat. So the first order of business was to pound the dark nighttime streets (street lights are few and far between) to find a better money changer. Plenty of guys on the street approached us offering to change money for favourable rates but Kyat denominations do not go above 1000 (about 80p) so you get rather a lot for your $100. I didn't fancy counting that much on the street, in the dark, in an unknown town, etc., etc. We eventually found a mid-price hotel who gave 820; that'll do. Armed with a thick wedge of the local currency, the rest of the night saw us patrolling the streets looking for something to eat; all the time looking at the pavement to ensure we didn't fall down a hole and ending up waist deep in sewage or something. We past a Tokyo Fried Chicken (!!) and thousands of street market vendors but nothing resembling a cafe/bar. Eventually we ended back at a "beer station" behind the hotel we changed our money: a basic formica table and plastic chair affair that sold cheap Myanmar Beer so the boys were happy. Amusingly, the side door led to a garage where some 50-odd local boys had made a makeshift cinema out of red plastic chairs in front of two large plasma TVs to watch the Man Utd game. Eventually, we took pity on the girls and deported to a rooftop restaurant so we could blow larger numbers of our cash on proper wine and food. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I'd get better organised and get a map of the area.

Up at a reasonable time the next day. Got a photocopy map off the concierge. The Cavs went their separate ways, Linda and I walked down towards the river which was a damned further distance than it looked on said map. Walked over a rickety railway bridge; through the Bogyoke Aung San (formally Scott) Market; passed the Sule Pagoda; found a series of cheap beer stations for further reference; found the Strand Hotel, the Custom House and the British Embassy. Stopped for a beer in a small corner cafe. Some boys were playing a guitar in the corner. One song was obviously Queen's "We Will Rock You" sung in Burmese so we joined in the chorus. They laughed. Eventually. When they realised what we were doing. We left a tip. We found an air conditioned American bar, The 50th Street B&G, that had an all day Happy Hour where we had lunch. I have to say, Yangon looks like a city that hasn't seen much development in the last 50 years. The state of the vehicles and pavements notwithstanding, the whole place looks run down and, if it wasn't for the sheer numbers of people living here in the aging concrete, I could imagine plant life beginning to take over. The people are fine if a a little reserved or shy; some even look worried or surprised if we tip them. In the early evening we met up with the Cavs and compared notes on our travels and ended up at the beer stations we'd found earlier. That evening we found what seemed to be a decent cafe for dinner. While we were eating the two guys Mike had been talking to the previous night called to us from the road to offer a taxi out of town. They must have been following us around too. As Mike does, he went over and negotiate a trip, heavy with conditions as to state of the vehicle, cost, destinations, duration,etc., of course, for the next day. In the meantime, I ordered a spicy red curry and spent between 1 am and 4 am that night throwing it up. This just hasn't been my week!