Over the river and through the rice fields

I've had this post ready to go for a little while but due to some problems with the internet I was delayed in publishing it. Anyway...

Saturday I was lucky enough to join a group of employees from Anna’s mother’s tour company on a day trip across the Yangon River to a village called Dala. It was a great chance to see a less urban environment and another facet of daily life around Yangon. Here is a map:

We woke early to join the tour group at the office, and took a bus to downtown Yangon and the ferry landing. Due to the early hour a thin mist hung about, giving the river a rather mysterious air both upstream and down. From the midway point the high-rises of Yangon became partially obscured by the fog, exuding a kind of pleasant melancholy I find difficult to describe. Large freighters drifted about with impunity as small water taxis zoomed by below. On the ferry we met a young boy of about 13 named Peter whose job it was, along with many others, to sell chewing gum, mints, cigarettes, etc. to passengers on the ferry. Peter was quite likeable and impressed me immensely with his knowledge of several languages. He spoke to us in English and immediately jumped to the conclusion that Anna and I were married (I wasted no time correcting him), proceeding to ask me questions about where I was from, what I did, how long I was staying, and for what purpose. From there we had a brief conversation in French, and he informed me that he also spoke some Italian and Spanish. I bought three packs of gum and some mints.

Arriving on the opposite shore, we disembarked into pure chaos as mobs of people jockeyed to enter and exit the ferry while many others sold various goods and offered taxi service. This side of the river was entirely different from where we had just come from. It had a much more backwoods feel to it and as we boarded trishaws and were peddled farther from the river this feeling would only grow. The trishaws (bicycles with two back-to-back passenger seats on the side) were a surprisingly pleasant mode of transportation and allowed for much more involved observation of the surrounding environment. The roads were narrow with houses and businesses (most little more than shacks) clustered on each side. Much of the land on either side of the road was swampy, with many of the houses on stilts, makeshift walkways leading up from the road. One thing that struck me about this place was that, despite the absolute filth of much of the roadside- mud was everywhere and in places this was accompanied by a healthy layer of trash and litter- all of the people walking about, attending to their business, were as clean and well groomed as one could imagine. Clothing was generally spotless and neat, hair well kept, and sandaled feet surprisingly dirt-free. Frankly, how they do it is a complete mystery to me.

Outside the monastery

First stop on the tour was a monastery and adjoining school, no rest for the young students on a Saturday. Inside the monastery we were given a brief overview of how it runs and the daily life of the monks who call it home. We exited, I snapped a picture of a cow relaxing next to an intricately ornamented shrine, and we were off once more. The roads went from well-paved to barely so as we were peddled deeper into the countryside. It was a nice day to be certain, and eventually on both sides of the road there stretched rice fields with waist deep water as far as the eye could see. Eventually we reached out destination, a small village where lunch had been prepared for us. I have no idea the names of what I ate, but it involved chicken, beef, rice, vegetables, and soup, and was really delicious. I was nervous about how I would like Burmese food- it’s not as if I can just grab a burger if I find the food disagreeable. To my relief, however, most of what I’ve eaten so far has been really tasty. I don’t really examine it or smell it or think about it, my attitude is more or less that I’m going to eat it, whatever it may be, so I just dive in head first.

After finishing our meal Anna and I took a brief stroll around the village to get some pictures. We spoke briefly with a young boy playing around with a makeshift fishing pole, then headed back to rejoin the rest of the group. The return journey was pleasant with a refreshing sprinkling of rain, and in about a half hour we were back to the ferry. The fog had dissipated by now and Yangon’s waterfront, dotted with warehouses and docked vessels, was in clear view, making for some nice pictures. After crossing we headed home and I took a much-needed nap.