Afterwards we had a plate in one of the many hotel restaurants.
We retired at 21:00. I slept immediately but awoke at midnight and couldn’t return to sleep. The alarm awoke me at 08:30. It was after 04:00, when sleep returned.
Breakfast was exceptional - Chinese, Japanese and European - a chef was available to cook my favourite - Eggs Benedict. The restaurant appeared to be populated with business men and women, mostly of Asian origin.
From the window one observed the Shewdagon bathed in morning sunshine and nearby two other pagodas.
By contrast, across from the hotel is an Anglican Church, whose architecture conceded nothing to its location and might have been more at home in middle England.
I believe that the only way to get to know a city is to walk it. Initially, as the temperature was projected to be in the 30s, I thought it might not be possible but we set off. Our destination was the old colonial quarter by the river.
We walked down Shwe Dagon Pagoda Road towards the River. As we walked each block sported markets with different article - one block for clothes , another for household items etc.
Finally, at the end of the road, I was disappointed to find not a view of the Irrawaddy but a busy port with numerous containers piled high.
We turned down Strand Road - viewing what the tourist map describes as Yangon Heritage buildings (former colonial buildings) in various states of repair.
The Yangon Heritage Trust, set up in 2012, is the chief guardian of the city’s architectural legacy, in its attempt to preserve the legacy from greedy developers with no interest in preservation. and now occupied by such companies as the Yangon Stock Exchange, The Customs House, Myanmar Port Authority, Internal Revenue, the Courts and illustrious international hotels such as Rosewood and The Strand.
We entered The Strand - described by the first contributor to the Lonely Planet as more likely to find a rat than a comfy bed or hot meal! Since then it has had a major revamp - its air conditioned foyer a welcome relief from the midday sun.
We rested awhile and then adjourned to the Bar for a drink.
Out again in the midday sun, we used the air bridge to cross the busy road. Crossing roads here is s nightmare!! Pedestrian crossings are ignored by motorists. I can only compare it to Hanoi (Vietnam), where I learned to cross the roads in company of natives!! There was no strand but we did discover the ferry to Dalah, an undeveloped island across the water - a bridge to the island is due for completion this year.
A young man escorted us to the Ticket Office K4,000 (€2.50 return). He refused a tip. The ticket seller gave us each a bottle of water, pointing to the label which stated that it was water for tourists and therefore safe to drink. He sent the young man to accompany us and suggested we might give him a tip if we were pleased with his service. He was a mine of information about the island.
On arrival, we were met by men with bikes and side saddles who wished to take us on a tour of the island - separately of course. We declined. Next we were met by a Tuc Tuc driver who volunteered his services for quadruple the going rate!! I negotiated. It is vital to barter - as one merchant once told me - there is no respect for those who do not barter. We agreed K16,000 - more than treble our guide book’s suggested rate - in the belief that this money is going directly into the economy unlike the US$ we spend in the Pan Pacific, an international chain, where much of its income may leave the country.
Views of Yangon permeated the horizon
A speedier boat making the crossing - max 10 persons
On arrival, we awaited embarkation as the melee to leave the ship was disconcerting
Our first stop was the island’s pagoda, where we took off our shoes as a mark of respect to the Buddha.
The pagoda has a mummified saint’s head covered in gold leaf, a monk who had spent most of his life here in the Pagoda. It was a small pagoda with only 27 monks living there.
We continued to the Fisherman’s village. The fishermen were mending their nets.
Their homes were corrugated huts but the village had electricity
Next stop was the Bamboo Village - the poorest of the villages without electrify, running water or a school.
After this we visited the rice distribution centre.
The rice is grown in an adjacent island. If one gave a donation here, the owners would be obliged to give a
bag of the rice to the community - or so we were told!!
From here we made our way to our final stop at the rice paper making factory. It was certainly low level technology as a simple machine made the dough, assisted by a young man,
another covered the plate with a very thin layer of dough
and a lady collected the cooked paper.
Finally, we were asked if we would like to see a recycling plant. At this point, I have to admit that I was not sufficiently prepared for this trip. Had I been, I would not have passed on the recycling centre Chuchu which has its own Facebook page!! Later, on reading my guide book, I noted that the recycling plant was not as I thought but a social enterprise which turns discarded plastic into items such as jewellery. It would have been interesting. So if you, dear reader should chance this way, do visit the recycling centre.
The 120,000 people who inhabit the island live in squalid conditions yet they were very friendly and some even wished to shake our hands. We appeared to be a novelty.
We returned to the dock for embarkation and handed over K16,000 as agreed, only to be informed by our driver that as the tour had exceeded the hour, this sum was not enough - only then did we regret at being so generous - the suggested fare for 1 hour was K5,000 (€3). We refused to pay anything more and proceeded to board the ferry - our trusty guide accompanying us until we disembarked.
On our return, we walked from Strand Road to one of Yangon’s finest tea shops Rangoon Tea House,
passing more colonial buildings as we walked - we passed a Revenue building designated for ‘medium taxpayers’ and another for ‘large taxpayers’!!
The interior of the Tea House was beautiful,
especially the upper level adorned with teak. We had tea and samosas - a favourite of their former colonial masters! Though I had ordered a black tea, a milky tea was served - the milk is condensed sweet milk - not to my taste!
Quitting the Tea House, we walked along Merchant Road, turned north by Maha Bandoola Garden,
where the locals were sitting about enjoying the welcome cool of the evening. In the centre was Independence Monument,
with City Hall situated outside the Park to the north.
Here too was Sule Pagoda
in the centre of a roundabout with the frenetic traffic swirling around.
From there we made the short walk back to the hotel. It had been a long day. We had quitted the hotel at 11:00 and returned as the sun was setting.
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