Escaping the Generals (10 January 2012)

Our dilemma was how we should leave Nay Pyi Taw. There was one train each day on to Bagan, our next stop, or we could take a local overnight bus, arriving at Bagan in the dead of night. Both these options appealed given our increasingly straitened finances (more later) but another day long, bone shaking ride by train or an overnighter in a chicken bus were not exciting prospects. Of course there is always another option: take a private car to Bagan for an eye-watering 200,000 kyats (£170)
Hmmm. What to do? Our deliberations went something like this:

Ant: Sod it, let's go for the car option
Gill: Yeah
David: Go on, then

Our "private car" turned out to be an elderly VW Nay Pyi Taw city taxi, but at least it had seatbelts in the front. We were sorry to leave the Tungapuri Hotel. It had been short, but very sweet. The staff couldn't do enough for us and they seemed rather bemused at having Western tourists as guests in their hotel. They lined up to see us off and presented us with hotel goodie bags.



We left the manicured lawns, golf clubs and empty pavements of Nay Pyi Taw behind and headed north on the Yangon-Mandalay expressway. We had not quite left the surreal atmosphere of Nay Pyi Taw yet. The expressway is a spine of concrete that runs north to south from Yangon and eventually on to Mandalay and is almost entirely devoid of traffic due to high tolls and few stopping places or exits.



We saw only a handful of cars on the road which is ironic given the many millions and decades that it took to build it. It was only when we turned off the road towards Bagan two hours later that we felt we had abruptly re-entered Myanmar, with potholed roads, carts and dust. We thought we had escaped the Generals by leaving Nay Pyi Taw, but a quick check of Wiki reveals that the only taxi company in the city is owned by the military, so actually we escaped courtesy of them..... our paranoia now making us wonder if our totally non English speaking driver was really one of them. We so wouldn't make good spies!

We were still fretting about over-spending as we arrived in Bagan, and we decided at all costs to find a hotel that would accept credit cards. No mean feat in a country isolated by sanctions, and we stopped at several hotels, none of which would take cards. All had said online or in travel books that they did, but apparently, no longer... We grew increasingly desperate as night fell, and our driver was thoroughly lost. Finally we caved in and went to the cash only hotel that we had planned to stay in, the Kumudura. Miraculously they had received our online reservation that we had made earlier that day and we were taken aback to be welcomed by name. And pleased to see a nice bar and restaurant....gin slings, here we come!


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General Madness (9 - 10 January 2012)

After twelve hours to travel 200 miles on our bucking bronco train, we finally arrive at our destination, Nay Pyi Taw (sometimes spelled Nay Pyi Daw) station, which is very grand station, reminiscent of a smaller scale Heathrow T5, given there are only one or two trains a day. Nay Pyi Taw is the new capital of Burma, relocated here from Yangon/Rangoon at a cost of 4.6 billion dollars. We are some of the first few Westerner's to come here as it only officially opened to non Burmese in 2012. It was obvious that we were a rare breed as we left the station forecourt, the small crowd closed in around us, and it was obvious they found us hilarious... Laughter all round. And odd to be in a place where no one spoke any English at all. Finally a fat, well dressed, less than engaging greasy spiv came over and said a taxi to our hotel was £30. Robber, we thought, we haven't just got off the boat (well, train, in our case...), it was only a six mile trip, only to find out later that it was the official going rate. But refusing to pay it, we finally negotiated, after much sign languauge and changing of buses (small open air tuk tuk type vehicles for locals) a fare of £6 total. So there we were, three huge people with even bigger bags crammed in with tiny women and babies, much to everyone's amusement. And probably breaking a cardinal rule for foreign travellers who should probably use official overpriced taxi's only...
The taxi bus had no idea where we should be dropped off, but eventually found it and dropped us off at the end of the sandy path leading to the hotel. Some areas of the capital are off limits to us, and we have to stay in the hotel zone. We thought we had booked online, but the internet obviously wasn't working that day... Again, much amusement at our arrival at the Tungapuri Hotel, where the staff were surprised at our unannounced arrival on foot with bags in tow. But it was fine, brand new, clean and really nice staff who spoke very little English. It's been open a while, but our rooms looked like no one else had ever used them. And even funnier when we saw in the light the next morning that there was actually a proper road and we needn't have struggled through the sand after all... No wonder we looked odd as we arrived by the back route as if we had just crossed the Arabian desert....



The whole city of Nay Pyi Taw is hard to describe. Perhaps a much more expensive Milton Keynes (in the 70's) on speed with no people is one way. Everything is brand new, huge plush hotels with landscaped grounds in the hotel zone, mostly, apart from our more modest one, five and six star looking places. And all looking empty. The road from the staion was a modest eight lane, but some are fourteen lanes - and no traffic or people in sight. Huge roundabouts lit up like Xmas trees using huge amounts of power with fountains playing. Street lights and manicured gardens everywhere. Unlike the rest of Burma who rely on generators for the frequent power cuts, it has 24 hour electricity, it is bizarre. It appears to be the military dream of a capital. They moved one million civil servants here from Yangon to staff all the ministries. Everything is on a grand scale. The workers live in housing blocks depending on job role and marital status and each has a different colour roof denoting the occupation of the inhabitants. Everyone we spoke to in Burma about this place laughed at the absurdity of it. Whilst most had not visited it they knew enough. The huge waste of financial resource on this grandeur when most Burmese struggle to make a living is incomprehensible, and it's so obvious. Just outside the city limits the scenes of rural poverty along the railway are shocking in comparison. Even the civil servants living there, we are told by people in Yangon, whilst many have better housing and a constant supply of power, don't like it. No real local markets, only the shopping zone, and no access to traditional medicine shops and pharmacies, they have to go through the more expensive medical system. And whilst one can applaud any nation for wanting to present their capital in a better light on the international stage, this one is so over the top. Indeed the name itself is generally translated as "royal capital", "seat of the king" or "abode of kings". The name literally means "royal city of the sun" in Burmese - telling.

We knew where we wanted to go for dinner. The local government airline, Myanma Airways is not noted for its safety record, and they reckon the safest way to get on one of these planes is to have dinner on the one parked outside the Sky Princess Hotel's Cafe Flight. So off we go, it wasn't far. No way was a car taxi available for less than £30, and the local mode of transport inside the city is motorbike taxi. It had to be done. Gill on the back of one, David on another and Ant bringing up the rear, not a crash helmet in sight. But not a bad short trip down the eight lane highway with no other traffic to get in our way. We walked back....
And the Cafe Flight restaurant was fab. It is in a full size Fokker 28 aircraft (thanks to David for the identification...) decked out inside like a private plane, with low lighting and comfy seating. But perhaps it was a private plane with low lighting and comfy seating in a previous life before the General bought something bigger... And reasonably fast wifi.... And good food and more local Shan State why why. We were happy! Ant was also able to fulfil a dream and do the whole safety briefing at the front of the plane - I hasten to add we were the only people in there..... he did rather a good job!



The next day we wanted to do a city tour of the highlights - not many, we discover. Apart from the sheer surreality of driving round a huge showpiece city with grand spreadout buildings, fine hotels and no people, compared to the unbelievable poverty just outside the city confines. We expected that tours might be available from a selection of leaflets in the hotel lobby, a normal expectation as we were in the third largest city in Burma. No, it appears a city tour was not something that had ever been requested before. So via pidgin English again, we got a suggested itinerary from the charming receptionist, who then directed the taxi driver what we should see. Not a lot frankly! Our first highlight was the pagoda, Uppatasanti Paya, built by General Than Shwe and his wife, an almost exact copy of Shwedagon in Yangon, but just thirty centimetres shorter and, we assume, minus the precious jewels. Here it was shoes off as normal, but we had to be dressed in longyis. Again to the huge amusement of the few locals visiting. David and Ant's longyi knots are getting better.... An impressive, empty, huge place with golden Buddha's, acres of marble and the requisite golden stupa.



Moving on, we decided to pass on the fountain park where fountains apparently aren't turned on very often and head for the more politically sensitive areas of the Parliament Building and City Hall. We had thought we had read that this was an off limits area but asked the driver to take us anyway. Gill of course was terrified, convinced she was about to be banged up abroad in a Burmese jail. But no, after passing identical grand ministry buildings tucked away inside leafy enclaves, we stop at the side of the fourteen lane highway outside, a road capable of flying a plane full of escaping Generals from if the need ever arose we thought...






Again, a ghost city, just the odd motorbike going by and no military or police to be seen. The Parliament building, surrounded by a high, artistic wrought iron fence was unbelieveble. Huge, ornate, grand, it seemed twenty Houses of Commons would fit inside. It is an extremely impressive parliamentary complex apparently consisting of 31 buildings and a 100 room presidential palace.


We even peered through the wrought iron fence to take the picture, well David and Ant did, Gill held back in case of arrest so at least she could visit them in prison.... Then on to see City Hall, another grand building but not quite on the scale of the Parliament building. The taxi pulls to a stop and we get out, surreptitiously pointing our camera towards it as a burly guard starts to walk over. We're not sure who was more terrified at this point, Gill or the poor taxi driver.... We had to tough it out, we smiled nicely and got back in to the car as fast as we could as we think the taxi driver was told, get those people away from here - NOW!



So then onto safer ground, the shopping mall! And here we didn't need to worry too much about a budget as there was nothing we wanted to buy. Not a Western brand anywhere to be seen. Lukewarm lattes in a bakery with no cakes. This is Burma's Pyongyang, the Generals they be mad! It's quite appropriate that George Orwell travelled widely in Burma, as this is certainly 1984. Indeed many Burmese call him the prophet, with Burmese Days, Animal Farm and 1984 seen as a trilogy fortelling Burma's development from imperial outpost, through the revolution to the right wing military dictatorship it is today.


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Bananas, betel spit, beer and bouncing on the Burma Railway (9 January 2012)

An early start for our next adventure - our journey from the old capital of Yangon to the new capital, Nay Pyi Taw. Gill had never heard of it until William Hague had been there the day before and she had seen it on the BBC. David was a little further ahead in his capital knowledge and had known about it for a few weeks. Our transport is to be the Burma Railway.



Yangon station, whilst very run down, still has echos of Empire - mainly because it hasn't been repaired since we all left. A large, once white building with towers at each end and with all the original ticket counters behind rusty but decorative wrought iron. It was much quieter than we thought, unlike the Indian style crowds we were expecting. Like a Memsahib and Sahibs from Empire days our Upper Class tickets took us to the best seats on the train - Richard Branson, where are you, calling these Upper Class is doing the Virgin brand a dis-service... The carriage is spacious and has comfy seats, unlike the crowded hard wooden ones in ordinary class next door. Comfy, but perhaps could do with a wipedown with a damp cloth and a bit of bleach... The windows have no glass, are completely open to the elements but there are shutters to pull down for inclement weather - it does make for good natural aircon.



We slowly pull out of Yangon at the start of this long journey. We act like Japanese tourists on the Tube, making disparaging comments about the dire state of the train and laughing hysterically whilst taking photos. As the train gathers a bit of speed it starts to sway and bounce alarmingly. The bushes alongside encroach through the paneless windows. It feels at times like a bad channel crossing, at others when the momentum changes direction, it is like riding a horse, with your bum actually leaving contact with the seat with each bounce. At this stage we all agree that our change of plan from a night train to a day one was a good one. The noise is at industrial levels and no way would sleep be possible. The dust blows in and water seeps out from under the toilet door, you get the idea. But it's such an experience and we laughed a lot. People wander across the tracks, sleep and sit alongside the tracks and generally live life. The swaying was so bad that one of the train staff came along withe a rope to tie David's bag to the baggage shelf as it was in danger of toppling over. So Health & Safety do figure at times.....



Once outside the city and past the suburban stations with traditionally dressed commuters waiting to start their working week, the wide flat vista is dotted with rice paddies, brickworks and golden stupas like measles on the landscape. Whilst all this is passing outside, inside and past your seats goes a veritable moving market. Food of all descriptions is for sale, balanced precariously on the vendors' heads as the train bounces along, including hot sweetcorn, boiled eggs, sweets, crisps, satay, hot curry. Books, newspapers, clothes and pictures of Aung Sun Suu Syi and her father go by. Monks collecting money in little envelopes. Oh and cool Chang beer. All vendors shouting out their wares noisily to be heard over the din of the train itself. A comic book library comes around and many are rented by the group of young people in front of us.



To add to this indoor market, at every stop you are offered more stuff to buy through the window. We buy the minimum quantity of bananas, two huge hands strung together which we will be eating for days, at the princely cost of 50p and that was tourist price. Just shows how out of sync some of those prices were in Yangon.
We go past scenes that are almost biblical, carts loaded with stuff being pulled by white buffalos, dirt poor villages with children running around barefoot in the filth, and tiny stations every so often which will have been here since Imperial times. It really looked like deepest rural India.
We have been really surprised by the lack of police and military presence in Myanmar generally, but today we notice a soldier with a big machine gun posted on a lookout at every train intersection, level crossing and station, and a big police presence on the train. At one point one of the policemen was sitting in the seat in front of me. Every so often he expertly expectorated a red stream of spit from his betel nut chewing, but luckily he had a good aim, even with a windowless train, there was no blowback on to me.... But still we see the old fashioned ways, at every station and level crossing, the train's movement was being marshalled by a man brandishing either a green or a red flag. And at each junction, a man slowly moved the creaking points. So nice to relax and look out on all this with a cool beer...



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In the footsteps of George Orwell (6 - 8 January 2012)

My flight was slightly delayed so it meant that we could all meet up in Bangkok Airport as soon as Ant and David landed from London via Zurich, which was fab! But we were soon separated again as we take different flights to Burma or Myanmar, you decide according to your political persuasion! Gill on budget Air Asia with not a drop of alcohol to be seen and Ant and David four glasses of wine to the good on Thai.... Rangoon or Yangon Airport (again, use whichever you are comfortable with...) was surprisingly modern and progress through immigration and customs really smooth. And whilst our mobile phones won't work here, plenty of local ones do judging by the number at the airport, so we are not sure that the stories of them costing up to £1000 each, a huge amount in this economy, can be right. There were lots of monks who seemed to be waiting for someone of their fraternity with lots of welcoming flowers, one of whom was using his iPad. So no, we are not so far, seeing evidence of this "backward" country, brought low by sanctions.
We have booked the Winner Inn, a small local place just outside of downtown, but well located for Shwedagon Pagoda.



It seemed to be a throwback from the 30's, a bit art deco, and a lot art wrecko! Spectacular wiring in the rooms and a shower that looked like it was designed for colonic irrigation.


The roads to the hotel, also the main route to the city, were quiet tree lined streets - with not a motorbike to be seen. Apparently, many moons ago, one of the Generals' cars was dented by a careless biker, so it was then mandated that henceforth there would be no more motorbikes in the city. Apocryphal? Not sure...
Everyone was tired, but never too tired for a first taste of Mandalay beer and as no why why was available the secret water had its first outing with a lime soda, requiring big dodging of the over attentive waiters. And so to comfy bed. The hotel breakfast can perhaps be best described as "adequate" with the milk a bit strange (sweetened condensed we decided) and the " butter" described by David as "I can't believe that is butter!"
The next morning we soon realised that we were going to struggle in this country due to our lack of Burmese. Trying to find stop one on the Lonely Planet walking tour created an Ant taxi tantrum as the non English speaking driver had not heard of the beautiful Starbucks type coffee shop we were headed for. When we got there we realised why - anything less like Starbucks we have yet to see, particularly in the hygiene dept. It was a blackened hole in in the wall with tiny plastic midget chairs. Ant had a bright orange drink, David had a bright pink one - and Gill drank the water she had brought from the hotel.... There were no brands in sight, no Coe Lye, but lots of ecoli.....



We spent the morning in the baking heat walking the wide streets of Yangon, down to the banks of the Irrawaddy (or as above, Arryawddy if that's your bag) reminiscent of a bygone Imperial era and found ourselves strangely drawn to the best Imperial era building, the local LHW, The Strand. We left £30 lighter after three coffees and three very small muffins. Whilst there were lots of old Imperial buildings, the infrastructure of the city is fairly grim. The shopping streets are lined with stalls selling bits and bobs, but mainly remote controls for tv's... And those strange pictures of naked babies you see all over China. Big holes in the pavement, the odd drain smell and plenty of stray dogs, basking in the shade, all of this was forgotten in the ready smiles of everyone we came across. At first glance it is a down trodden, flyblown, faded glory sort of a place, but was so welcoming. Were those ready smiles genuine pleasure to see us or did we look really funny.....
By this time lunch was beckoning, we ate lunch (i.e. Ant and David, not Gill who was inhaling Gill gel, aka antiseptic hand wash ) at a typical open fronted restaurant, the Danu Phyu Daw Saw Yee Myanma restaurant. We were taken to make our choice from a range of oily burmese curries displayed in their tepid metal bowls, these were served with some green vegetable soup, Ant and David loved it. The street life passing by, monks and nuns collecting alms from the dining patrons and staff. We were approached by a man asking where we were from and where we were going. Looking around guiltily he told us that so few people come here now because of the trouble. We asked if the upcoming elections and the recent visits from Clinton and Hague were a sign of better times to come. He said some people thought so but he didn't. He said "they will give with one hand and take away with another", and he felt that the outlook wasn't good. He said "it will be long and we will struggle". When we told him our next stop was Nay Pyi Taw he laughed and said it was a joke, all that money spent on nothing. We were to find out the truth of this a couple of days later. But so sad to see such despair on his face for the future of his country.



Crossing the road, even with the absence of motorbikes was a challenge. But we found a way. The city is full of dark red robed monks and Barbie pink robed nuns who hunted in packs. We realised that we could use a group of nuns as a human shield (women and children worked well too...) to dodge the traffic that stops for no one, but we reckoned it wasn't good karma to run over a nun....



Before coming here we had planned an outline route but decided to freewheel a bit and book as and when we wanted to move on. Our next stop was to be Nay Pyi Taw (more on that later) so we decided to take a train which you need to book ahead. We managed to track down the booking office, which is not at the station.


Tucked down a dark alley, which opens out into a semi open air dark booking hall with a dirt floor and with sleeping dogs, sleeping men and chickens. The clerks sit behind metal grills fronting the dark, dusty offices piled high with papers, carbon paper and all signs in the squiqqly unintelligable language. But by the usual pidgin English Ant managed to procure us the necessary tickets. But the effort that it had entailed required respite at the nearby Trader's Hotel, it was just a coincidence really that wifi was only available in the bar.... It might be called wifi here, but it is not as we know it. Everywhere, it takes ages (fair enough...) but there is no rhyme nor reason to which sites would work. Not many as we discovered, especially email, which we managed to connect to on only a couple of occasions the whole time we were in the country. Strangely Facebook was the only consistent site.
Dinner was to be at another Lonely Planet best recommended restaurant, the Aung Thukha. Situated down a side road at first glance it was a bit of a disaster, well for Gill at least. Fairly grubby looking, semi open air, tiny chairs at oil cloth covered tables. The same rules as at lunch applied, where you approached the "buffet" chose what you wanted and it was brought to you with rice, various condiments, soup and a salad. We didn't touch the salad for obvious reasons but the rest was actually very good. Unusually all the staff were women and one of them had the longest hair we have ever seen, right down to her knees.
We also discover that our hotel is in a trendy up and coming sort of an area and on the way to the restaurant had noticed a few nice looking places to stop on the way back for a why why or two. Coffee Circles was our choice, yes it did serve decent coffee but was more a trendy bar and eaterie. It also had free wifi. So we sat outside listening to a small band play, with a drink and trying to be patient with the painfully slow and erratic connection. It was here we think we spotted our first "watcher". All the books say that as a foreigner in this regime you will probably be "watched" at least once. A woman was sitting on her own all the time we were there, her laptop open but she wasn't doing anything at all with it, and didn't once glance in our direction even when we joined in with the band's rendition of Country Road's. Everyone else did...... We obviously didn't say anything too damaging as we are still at large... It was also really interesting to see the other people in there. Mainly locals all dressed in very expensive and very trendy gear, the girls in tottering high shoes all clutching their large designer handbags. We had seen only local dress for both men and women virtually everywhere so this was a real difference. And the prices charged were at London levels, not something here people on the low average salary could ever afford. We think they must be "General" related...
On Day two, we were "Stupa-fied" by our time at the Shwedagon Paya, which blew us away. This place dominates the city and can be seen from almost anywhere, it looks especially good at night.



We are not natural temple viewers, but as this was Yangon's No 1 site, we thought we should make the effort. We were within walking distance, so headed off in the hot sun in a clear deep blue sky. Shoes off of course, and up the steps through the myriad covered walkways to the hilltop temple platform. We resisted the shops that lined the steps, we decided we could all live without the garish temple regalia and offerings. It was clear that this is very much a working temple, as the Sunday crowds of families climbed alongside us.


The main platform was the size of a few football pitches and in the centre was an enormous golden stupa 322 ft high and 2500 years old. Various precious stones an a huge diamond adorn it. But it wasn't this that took our breath away, it was the hundreds of lesser temples, each with a Buddha or ten that filled the space. Praying and playing amongst these were thousand's of people, burning incense, making offerings of scented flowers, bathing their birthday cardinal Buddah with water. It was fantastic, the joy was palpable and we soon found ourselves grinning and smiling along with the ever so friendly locals. It was also blissfully empty of other tourists.



We were of course approached by a couple of monks who took us under their wings. Yes we know we had to walk around the stupa in a clockwise direction, but no we didn't know about the cardinal points for praying in accordance with your day of birth.



So, guided by the monks, we were taken to Monday, Gill, a tiger, where she completed the ritual and bathed the Buddha with a pattern of nine, seven, then five bowls of water, Sunday, David, a Garuda, likewise, then Thursday, Ant, a MOUSE!!



We were also blessed and sprinkled with Buudha's foot water. All very silly but fun. Of course there's no such thing as a free monk, so we taken to a quiet corner and for the surreptitious passing of a few kyats. A thoroughly good value experience.
After our spiritual experience we find another, a local shopping mall for lunch, then get a taxi to take us to the museum. We get a bit of a fright as on the way we are pulled over by the military. Luckily it was just a check on the driver's licence and not something political we had inadverently said the night before..... Then another cab to change money in a place recommended by the young taxi driver where we came away with several "bricks" of local notes, kyats (pronounced "chats") You can change money the official way at the bank instead of the local money changer, but there you get 7 kyats to the US dollar, on the street you get 850....
Dinner was in another Lonely Planet recommended place the Sabai @DMZ, and hooray, it looked clean, nice and civilised. And it was. We had a great meal and washed it down with a bottle of surprisingly good local wine. A Sauvignon Blanc, made in the Shan Hills was really good and with a bit of luck we will be able to make a visit to their vineyards when we get to Inle Lake. And hope we lift sanctions soon so we can buy it in the UK!



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A day out at BKK (2 - 6 January 2012)

So the last few days here in Phuket are not too dissimilar to the first! Lots of relaxing, hopeful market browsing, the continued search for decent why why... But generally a lot quieter as the whole Xmas and New Year business is over so the loud fireworks are a little less, until last night of course when I was trying for an early night due to my early start tomorrow... The biggest challenges each day are crossing the road (but the hotel lollipop man is very helpful) and deciding where to eat. I have come to realise that my choice of restaurant relies on various factors, which are, in order of importance: Is there a smell of drains wafting in Do they have decent why why Is there wifi Is the food any good And am also sorting the domestics for moving on. I am planning to leave some stuff at Bangkok Airport rather than cart it all over Burma. I had to buy a bag to use for this and am now the (not so) proud owner of a rather bad Diesel fake, the best I could find. Non fake label bags either had Thai elephants all over them or pictures of cutesy kittens..... Ant may be using this bag to take my warm clothes back to the UK so it was the lesser of all the evils, although he may not agree..... But if they had been cutesy pictures of golden cocker spaniels, who knows.... So what to pack in which bag? Warm clothes for Lake Inle, cool clothes for Yangon where the temperatures this week have been over 30C. Shoulders covered seem to be de rigeur in Burma, so every top with any sort of sleeve. The advice is not to leave anything of value at Left Luggage so will take my phone but no chance of it working as there is no international roaming there.... will feel a bit strange.


In order to guarantee the connection to Yangon, I had to take the 7am flight from Phuket, the later flight, at a much more civilised hour, would have been a problem if it had been even slightly delayed. But no delays this morning and I found myself sleepily wafted to Bangkok airport, sitting in Starbucks by 9am. My next flight is at 16.20, so it's a day at the airport for me. But I had domestics to do here too. I needed to transfer the stuff I was leaving behind into my new bag and deposit it at left luggage. I don't understand how this always happens. I started out with 22 kgs in London, I have bought very little, just a couple of light blouses, I have left behind some old t shirts, I have dumped a very heavy bag in left luggage, but my bag still weighs 20kgs. So much for travelling light... But I have stocked up on Mozzie milk, these must be heavyish as the bottles are glass, but the increase in weight always seem to happen and is a mystery to me. And I still have to do the Boots run for conditioner and Soltan when I go through, I am not expecting to be able to buy any Western goods in Burma. Given there are no ATM's, I guess Pantene might just be off the agenda too. I also needed to take my new iTouch to the VAT office for a pre claim inspection so I can get a few baht back. But I have been able to check in with Air Asia and drop my bag even all these hours ahead - can't see that happening with easyjet... I love the Thai language. The Burmese Government would say I am going to Yangon, the British Government say I must call it Rangoon, but the Thai's mash the two, and it now appears to be Yangoon. So buddhist, always the middle way! So now at 11am, all my jobs done, I have nothing left to do but catch up on this blog and let the excitement really build. As I sit here, not a lounge in sight, Ant and David are hopefully on their way, lording it at the front of the plane, and will probably arrive better rested than me. Well I hope they arrive and are not delayed, Ant has most of my dollars and without them I am stranded. There is no other way to get cash and only dollars will do...


Eating a bad meal before my flight to get wifi....., restaurant called "the miracle".... Ant and David are due to land at about 3.15 so I will look out for them as I walk to the cheap end of the airport for my flight. If I don't get to see them here, then next stop Yangon, and hope to find them at arrivals, they should get there about an hour after me, but no phones mean no texts to say " where r u" .... And on that note, be prepared for radio silence for a while. Internet access is apparently very difficult and wifi almost non existent. And I'm not sure even if Facebook works.... We will continue to write the blog but may take us a while to deliver it. But you never know, William Hague is there at the moment, he met the Pres yesterday and is meeting up with Aung San Suu Kyi today so perhaps he'll get it all fixed! - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wardrobe malfunction (31 December 2011)

The dreaded day of the compulsory hotel Gala Dinner has arrived and at £80, booze extra, about 12 times the cost of my normal meal here, I am expecting great things.... But I guess I have always been an optimist! And it is only this morning I realised that I neglegted to pack a suitable sparkly outfit for said event - but having said that as I don't possess one it would have been difficult to pack anyway... I foraged deep in the suitcase for my cleanest skirt and top, and the bling was supplied by my gold and diamate Haviana's (thanks Deryn) and rescuing my gold bangle from the depths of the room safe....
In I go. The area outside reception had been transformed with lots of tables, lights, balloons and a stage. The usual suspects on the buffet as well as a whole roasted pig, including the head.... And a constant stream of entertainment. We started with a very un Thai South Sea island dance routine, followed by a ladyboy cabaret, followed by Thai cultural dancing by, we were informed, the staff, no night off for them. Then we moved on to the Thai traditional dress version of Tom Cruise doing a cocktail making routine. He was the head barman....It was at the point where he kept dropping the bottles, especially the one with the flame coming out of the top that I made my excuses and left. At least the people I was seated with were nice, an Ozzie family from Brisbane and an older couple from Sweden. But the constant stream of entertainment precluded any meaningful conversation.

This sort of Gala Dinner is certainly not one of my favourite occupations, especially when you have no choice but to pay an exorbitant amount, and this one really was over priced, but at 10.30 I find myself back at my room in peace. I couldn't bring myself to stay for the last 90 minutes entertainment before New Year. Well, relative peace that is, as there are fireworks going off everywhere and music coming at me from all angles. But the view is lovely, the sky over the beach is full of those chinese lanterns and strobe lights from the DJ festival crossing the sky.
And now midnight. I don't think I've ever been through a louder new year, fireworks everywhere, on the beach, in the hotels and on the streets and still the skies filled with lanterns. Sydney and London (and Ferryside of course), eat your hearts out! That was pretty amazing!
And now on to New Year take 2 as I set the alarm for a 6.45 am start to catch the UK New Year. Saw the London fireworks on the telly and they looked spectacular, well done Boris! And more miracles of science, chatted to and saw the Harveys in California and all at Ferryside. Just sorry I wasn't there to share the champagne..
And then off to the front of the hotel at 8am to help with the New Year distribution of alms to the local monks. This was organised by the hotel and they kindly invited guests to join in. The hotel had said, and I quote
"please kindly be inform you that The Front Village Hotel will make the merit and give the goods to the monk for keep the Thai culture as the Buddhism believe that on the first of January is the nice life will coming then we should do merit".
I thought merit might be good but also thought that it might be a bit of a commercial thing but it wasn't, and surprisingly, very few guests turned up. A large table groaning with gift packs of water, toothpaste, rice, salt, Oreo's and other assorted goodies was lined up outside the hotel, miraculously cleared from the Gala Dinner last night. Some monks arrived, ferried in from the local temple in the hotel minibus and went along the line as we each passed over a parcel. The parcels wouldn't fit into their silver alms bowls, so they accepted them and then passed them on to a minion who loaded them into a laundry basket, a bit like the Queen dealing with her flowers on a Royal walkabout. They got quite a haul! But the hotel staff genuinely wanted us all to take part, making sure that everyone had given something. Then we crowded around and joined hands whilst the monks chanted their blessing over us and a silver bowl of water. The water was poured over the base of the nearest fragipani tree where a few more prayers were said, and then the head monk wished us all an English "Happy New Year". It was a really nice ceremony and felt very inclusive. I wished that I had actually personally contributed something rather than the hotel stuff, but then I remebered the outrageous price I paid for last night's do, and hope some of the profits from that were used to buy the monks' gifts. I hope so!
And finally Happy New Year Take 3 as I hear and see the girls again celebrating over in Scottsdale, Arizona. Now why is it that I seem to be the only person not to have had champagne in the lat 24 hours.....
And after all that New Year activity, it's a cloudy afternoon with sprinkles of rain, so I think I will now settle down with the Sunday Times and then off to the Irish Bar for a proper Sunday lunch - what a life eh!