Yangon, Burma

Dear lovely reader,

It’s been a very long time since I’ve made a blog entry. This voyage is past its halfway point. I’m halfway around the world. I’m halfway back home to you. I know that sounded real cheesy. Time flies fast when you’re having the best adventures of your life. I want to dedicate this entire blog entry to recount the stories I have of Burma. You know when you’re coming into a new port, you kind of already have a good sense of what you will see. But with Burma (official name, Myanmar), I had no idea what I would see there. There were rumors that our ship wouldn’t dock into Burma, because we had a hassle with immigration. But I’m relieved that rumor was just a rumor – because Burma is probably the most beautiful country I have ever seen. And without a doubt, Burma has been my favorite port so far.

Everyone had plans, either to visit Golden Rock or Bagan. It seemed as if Angela and I were the only ones without any booked day trips, overnight trips, or homestays. We were in the Garden Lounge, up late until 1am, trying to make some sort of a plan, travelling with just the two of us. We were both so sleepy at that point, probably “templed” out from our first day out in Yangon. We had visited the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon that night. Visiting this temple is probably the coolest temple experience you can ever have. By nighttime, it glows this gorgeous golden color. But be careful for monk imposters around the temple. They will probably try to hustle tourists for money when true monks never ask for money. Anyway, Ang and I run into Mike and Geoff, making light conversation. But the beauty of this was that Mike and Geoff had no concrete plans either. Ang and I had yet to travel with a different group for a while, let alone with boys. All four of us agreed we wanted to backpack. Backpacking where? I was going to find out that the point of winging it was that there was no destination. And when you wing it, you can fly to greater heights that you never imagined.

The next day, the four of us would take a 9am shuttle bus from our port, to the city of Yangon. Yangon is a beautiful city. But one day was enough. The sun was searing through our bodies as we walked through the busy streets of Yangon. We asked some locals around for a travel agency. And just walking through the bustling streets, I felt like I was back in Saigon again. It’s true. The small plastic, blue and green tables and chairs outside the restaurants, the heavy traffic, the pedestrians streaming through the traffic, the locals lounging outside under umbrellas and shade. A difference between the scenes would be that Burmese people dress very conservatively, women and men both wear these long skirts to their feet. Now we finally reach our travel agency with sweat drops and big backpacks. Except for Geoff, he packed like two shirts lol. So we ask the tour lady, of options of where to go. And she’s on the other side thinking we’re fools because we don’t have any particular destinations. So we show her this tiny map we printed of Burma. And Geoff mentions the word Bogalay. And the tour lady responded, “Oh yah, my friend lives in Bogalay, but I’ve never been.” And here we’re thinking, let’s go to Bogalay. The name is catchy and whatever there is to see is for us to find out. So we ask the tour lady, who is very friendly and patient, how to get to Bogalay. And she responds, “I think you can either take a 10-hour ship there, or a 4-hour train.” It’s an overnight ship by the way. So we check out the ships by going to the Port of Yangon. Keep in mind we didn’t dock in the Port of Yangon, we docked like an hour away from Yangon like in middle of manufacturing and construction. Anyway, the dock, pier whatever you want to call it is like this row of cargo ships and passenger ships, preparing in and out, all coasting along the water. Only way to get on the ship is to cross a man-made bridge. Once we crossed the bridge, even just walking down the pier, we could already feel eyes on us. It doesn’t feel like “You shouldn’t be here” kind of feeling, more like a “What are tourists doing here?” So yah I could already tell that this wasn’t much of a tourist hot-spot. But subconsciously, I think that’s what we all wanted. An adventure – somewhere that was completely unknown on the map and just go for it. So the rest of the day is up and down – literally. We stop by this cargo ship, and our heads already slam into a language barrier. There are men going in and out, carrying tons of cargo and food in and out the ship. And the four of us are trying to talk to this local on the ship, whether this ship goes to Bogalay. Bogalay? There was a nod, good. And the local literally points to like the base floor of the ship, where we were going to stay and sleep overnight. We were quite certain that if we went on this overnight ship, we would have quite the adventure. Hard wood floor, running rats, who knows. “Danger, danger.” Haha, those words were enough to tip the balance. There was just a lot of confusing communication in the air. We leave the pier to grab some lunch. Lunch was flawless, wonderful mixture of sweet and sour tastes. When we’re finally energized we take a step back towards the pier again. And we’re determined. We’re determined to get to Bolalay by ship. When we head back, we find one passenger ship that seems perfect. No cargo coming in and out. Clearly locals take this ship overnight. And it was going to Bogalay. Perfect until they weren’t selling any more passenger tickets. At that moment, I think I heard all our hearts sink to the bottom of our stomachs. So we walk down the pier again to find one more ship. Yes, it was going to Bogalay. Yes, it was a 5 USD ticket purchase. Yes, it would depart at 7pm and arrive at 4am in Bogalay. Yes, we slept on slightly inclining chairs throughout the night (or at least tried to). We felt the eyes again on us. It wasn’t a look of disgust. Just the look of “What are these tourists doing here?” Traveler’s tip: when you get that look from the locals, you’re on the right path (or at least I think so). We sleep at the very top deck of the ship, so outside. This is where you could see other locals laying down their blankets to sleep. This is where you could see the sunset and the pink sky turn to a dark night, just enough to see the stars and the moon. This is where you could see the ship cruise down the river, where wildlife, a forest, who knows Jurassic Park was right in front of our eyes. This is where you could feel the thrill of the unknown, from the chill of your toes to the tips of your fingers. I couldn’t sleep. At all. But it didn’t really matter. We were  travelling like an explorer. This night was the beginning of the best adventure of my life.

Thank you for reading lovelies. I’ll dedicate my entire next blog about Bogalay, Burma.

All love and hope,

Kimmy