Fresh off the plane 17.12.2014
Yangon airport was a relative breeze
(compared to previous developing countries). The cues for visa on arrivals were
non-existent and unnecessary for us (tip: online visa does work). It seems our
E-letter counts after all.
Cuing for the all-important immigration
stamp, I was feeling nervous. I think because I hadn’t expected things to flow
as well as they did.
Attending the taxi service booth, our ride
to town was quickly arranged for a cool 8000 kyat (pronounced ‘chat’). A local
lad took us outside to our taxi man, a quiet man, but very relaxed driver. Four-window air-conditioning
was the go for our weaving trip into town. The warm humid smoggy air of an
Asian city at night was familiar and comforting (to me anyways).
Fairy lights on big buildings seems the
thing to do in Yangon. My first sighting of the language, was intimidating. I
could not tell the difference between numbers and letters, or words really. I
felt stupid.
Road works were ever-present and the works
looked dodgy – the conditions and the future expressway. But hey, I’m pretty
sure there are no unions here. Efficiently, and without the horn, our taxi man
pulled up on a dark street. Dark because everything was closed, not from
isolation. This was downtown. Again led by a local lad, we were guided up
grime-ridden stairs. I puffed because I’m unfit and because I’m once again
lugging a big pack. The electrical boxes are rusted and look like something
from a 1920s movie. There is rubbish, red stains from spat tobacco and signs of
people, likely many, living in the stairwells. On the third level we are met by
another lad happy to see us. ‘You are
Dean?’ We confirmed and Dean was chuffed that his name was pronounced so
well.
Amongst the solid, rotten-looking concrete
interior of the building, our friend took us into an oasis of fake wooden
paneling and led us to our room. A king-size plus single bunk was larger than
expected. The bathroom was clean enough by budget standards. ‘As you saw on the internet?’ Yes,
exactly. We were chuffed with our $US30 per night room – and this place doesn’t
even have a website!!
To say we were looking forward to bed was
an understatement, but I was also hungry (on my way to hangry – angry when
hungry). So for everyone’s safety we were directed to Chinatown… in Yangon.
Feeling tired and getting grumpy, I wasn’t
feeling up to street-side food just yet. I opted for the over-lit, flashing
signs of what turned out to be a hotel/restaurant/money-changer. My first
official Burmese food – vegetable fried rice, Japanese tofu and vegetables.
That and an obligatory Sprite was exactly what was needed.
Taxi from airport: 8000 kyat
Dinner: 12000
Accommodation: $US30
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