In the queue for check-in at Singapore airport I was approached by a suited young man and two girls. The man, called Htoo, could obviously see I was travelling light and wondered if I had any spare luggage allowance. At the desk I had a good spare 6kg and they said it was fine for him to have it (I can't somehow imagine this scenario on a western budget airline). On the plane Htoo came and sat next to me and he told me that he'd been living, studying and working in Singapore for two years, and now he's going to make a business back in Myanmar. He gave me his email address and told me to call him in a few weeks before I fly out.
I had $700 in brand new, unmarked sequential notes stashed in my laptop to keep them from bending or folding. This kitty had to last me 22 days as there's no western ATM's here. I was told that you shouldn't change money in the airport, as you'll get an abysmal rate; as little as 100 Kyat (pronounced "Chat") to the dollar. I checked the rate and it was fine at 867 Kyat so I changed one of my sparkling $100 bills (which they thouroughly checked over). Two people I later met didn't even look at the options in the airport as their guidebooks told them not to. They went to the black-market sellers in Yangon. One guy was promised 900 Kyat to $1 and the changer "mis-counted" the cash back to him and, deal done, quickly ushered him away. Refusing to be ushered until cash counted he reasised he'd been dramatically short-changed. The changer refused to give him the extra cash and the man threatened to get the police involved. The police are under government instruction to "warmly welcome" tourists and won't tolerate anti-tourist behaviour (someone told me a man got 7 years for stealing some flip-flops?!). With this the changer decided to give him some cash back, working out at a normal exchange rate. They other guy I met simply didn't realise he'd been ripped-off until later. For an extra 40 Kyat (5 cents) per $1 your risking losing a lot more, and if you go to the police you're potentially putting the changer forward for some inhumane punishment, considering the crime. There's no need to go to a black-market changer, there's banks everywhere changing money at reasonable rates, and with sanctions now lifted it won't be long before western ATM's start springing up all over the place, making the country much more tourist-friendly.
I get a pre-paid airport taxi to Yangon centre for $10. A very friendly, English speaking driver gave me a big welcome and a mini sight-seeing tour on the 30 minute journey. His taxi was stylish, in the 1980's. It had deep, plush burgendy seats covered with doily and brown plastic trim. The Sule Pagoda in downtown Yangon is in the centre of a traffic island and its huge golden dome can be seen from a long way. Thanking the driver I consult the little map someone had drawn me (I wish I could remember who this was) and head to the Okinawa guest house. I curious little wooden building, unlike anything else on the street. Inside the wooden panelled theme continued. I didn't pre-book (I'm not sure if you can?) but manage to get (one of four) $7 dorm beds in the loft. I'm a little damp from humidity, sweat and rain. Everything is a little damp, not wet, just that hint of moisture. It rains most of the time in Yangon in the rainy season. There was so much rain that when I awoke from a small kip the road outside the guest house was now a shin-deep river. Realising my canvas shoes and socks were completely inappropriate (and not wanting to get them wetter as they would never dry) me and a French journalist, also in the dorm, waded against the torrent, barefoot, to a welcoming Indian cafe with lots of men gathered around a TV showing Manchester United vs a Chinese team. We sat there for hours while it poured outside. I can't think how much rice, curry, sauces and sweet tea we consumed.
Next day wandering about the city (still in light rain) a came across a little noodle stall, but it wasn't the food that attracted me (although I did have some noodles), it was the t-shirt that a girl working there was wearing.
For the next evening I'd booked an overnight bus to Inle lake. I was going to come back to Yangon at the end of my trip. Obviously the swastika
I had $700 in brand new, unmarked sequential notes stashed in my laptop to keep them from bending or folding. This kitty had to last me 22 days as there's no western ATM's here. I was told that you shouldn't change money in the airport, as you'll get an abysmal rate; as little as 100 Kyat (pronounced "Chat") to the dollar. I checked the rate and it was fine at 867 Kyat so I changed one of my sparkling $100 bills (which they thouroughly checked over). Two people I later met didn't even look at the options in the airport as their guidebooks told them not to. They went to the black-market sellers in Yangon. One guy was promised 900 Kyat to $1 and the changer "mis-counted" the cash back to him and, deal done, quickly ushered him away. Refusing to be ushered until cash counted he reasised he'd been dramatically short-changed. The changer refused to give him the extra cash and the man threatened to get the police involved. The police are under government instruction to "warmly welcome" tourists and won't tolerate anti-tourist behaviour (someone told me a man got 7 years for stealing some flip-flops?!). With this the changer decided to give him some cash back, working out at a normal exchange rate. They other guy I met simply didn't realise he'd been ripped-off until later. For an extra 40 Kyat (5 cents) per $1 your risking losing a lot more, and if you go to the police you're potentially putting the changer forward for some inhumane punishment, considering the crime. There's no need to go to a black-market changer, there's banks everywhere changing money at reasonable rates, and with sanctions now lifted it won't be long before western ATM's start springing up all over the place, making the country much more tourist-friendly.
I get a pre-paid airport taxi to Yangon centre for $10. A very friendly, English speaking driver gave me a big welcome and a mini sight-seeing tour on the 30 minute journey. His taxi was stylish, in the 1980's. It had deep, plush burgendy seats covered with doily and brown plastic trim. The Sule Pagoda in downtown Yangon is in the centre of a traffic island and its huge golden dome can be seen from a long way. Thanking the driver I consult the little map someone had drawn me (I wish I could remember who this was) and head to the Okinawa guest house. I curious little wooden building, unlike anything else on the street. Inside the wooden panelled theme continued. I didn't pre-book (I'm not sure if you can?) but manage to get (one of four) $7 dorm beds in the loft. I'm a little damp from humidity, sweat and rain. Everything is a little damp, not wet, just that hint of moisture. It rains most of the time in Yangon in the rainy season. There was so much rain that when I awoke from a small kip the road outside the guest house was now a shin-deep river. Realising my canvas shoes and socks were completely inappropriate (and not wanting to get them wetter as they would never dry) me and a French journalist, also in the dorm, waded against the torrent, barefoot, to a welcoming Indian cafe with lots of men gathered around a TV showing Manchester United vs a Chinese team. We sat there for hours while it poured outside. I can't think how much rice, curry, sauces and sweet tea we consumed.
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| Rivers of roads |
For the next evening I'd booked an overnight bus to Inle lake. I was going to come back to Yangon at the end of my trip. Obviously the swastika
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