It’s breakfast time, 7:45am on the roof terrace of the Shwe Mount Than Hotel. I enquire what is to eat. “You want toast with sugar?” “Do you have any jam?” “No jam.” “Fruit?” “No have.” “OK coffee – with milk.” “No have milk, sorry.”
First thing after breakfast I wanted to find the railway station and make enquiries on how to reach my next destination – Mawlamyine. Until recently foreigners were not allowed to take the line north, now like the rest of southern Myanmar it is officially open for business – theoretically. After a long walk following the left bank of the Tavoy River I moved away from the waterside passing between rows of two storey wooden homes with their customary upstairs niche into which would be placed an image of Buddha.
Four kilometres after setting out I could see the station. I walked up and peered inside. No one seemed to be around. I whistled, then shouted but it appeared deserted except for three bicycles that were propped up against a wall.
I looked around for information – it was posted up but in non Roman script. To me the Burmese language is all squiggles, uncontrolled loops, inverted horns, banjos and hypotenuses – totally unreadable unless one has consumed 10 pints of strong cider.
Spitting is taken seriously here – no discrete little coughs behind the hand but rather deep akkkkkks and then the unwanted fluid is discarded. Perhaps the main reason for this is the non stop consumption of betel nuts that leave the men with rather fetching black toothed smiles. Ladies it seems do not for the most part use this product. Many do however decorate their cheeks with white patterns which to me look agreeable.
escapingeast 