New Friends
Horns Blare. Dogs howl and circle like crows around carrion. The taxi driver points an emphatic finger towards the nearest dog then throws a small rock. The madness recedes a little, cowards with false bravado is all they are. But they’ll be back. The traveller stoops to arm himself.
The friendly driver gestures to walk around the corner with a smile that cuts his face in two then climbs back into the beat up care that must have come straight out of back to the future and disappears into the chaotic swell of traffic. The traveller turns and begins to walk.
The alleyway is narrow and buildings loom up all around him, stone crumbling, failing to years of neglect and poor workmanship. The dogs return but a feint of a throw sends them scrambling again. Awkwardly the traveller readjusts his two bags on his shoulder and keeps walking. It doesn’t feel like the right place.
Locals stare, eyes wide, curiosity painted across worn faces. He smiles nervously. who robs a smiling stranger after all. The street name’s right, he tells himself, quickly glancing down at the cracked screen of his i-pod where he has down the name and address of his guesthouse. Humble Footprints. This can’t be too hard.
He meets each curious stare with a self conscious grin, and more often then not is answered in kind. Some of the children even wave, giggling and stumbling over the one english word they know. “Bye Bye.” He knows they mean hello, but as their eyes take in this white giant before them, a dark thought scatters his confidence. Do they know something I don’t.
His heart drops in his chest. Just ahead, the street ends. Indecipherable faded paints on a weathered concrete wall stares back at him. He sighs and again adjusts the straps of his 20 kg backpack. The merciless sun beats down on his unsheltered face as his eyes search the upper reaches of the crumbling mini high rises, finding no indication of Humble footprints, only more curious stands from inside the glassless openings that were once windows.
His feet come to stillness as his eyes dart back and forth.. To the right another narrow street continues meandering through the metropolis, to the left is only a small footpath over a tiny canal. More garbage flows then water. He turns, but back the way he came is only dogs. A seed of fear a settles in his gut, and he knows soon it will turn to panic. Though the sun has but an hour left in the sky the heat is still undeniable, and already sweat soaks his bright purple button up shirt. What am I going to do?
“Where Go?”
The traveller looks down and finds another smile. Before him stands a man walking an ancient looking bicycle beside him. His teeth are crooked and broken but still split in a smile, and the wrinkles on his face speak of friendly wisdom, but also of a life hard lived.
“What?”
“Where go?”
“Uhhh.. Humble footprint Hotel. You know where?”
“Hhaambber hotel?” He sounds out the word, as if tasting it for the first time. The traveller nods and the strangers brow furrows.
The stranger turns to a woman hanging out of one of the opening and they exchange words beyond the traveller’s understanding. The stranger turns back and shakes his head but still smiles. He starts to walk and the traveller wonders what to do next. The stranger turns, a look of surprise on his face. “Come!”
The single word sets his feet to moving and he follows the stranger to the left, over the trash clogged canal and under more of the open windows, most of them now holding curious eyes inside.
“Where from?” The stranger asks as they walk.
“Canada.”
“Ohhh Canada.” A whole new enthusiasm takes his face. “Cold!!!!” She shouts the word and mimes the shiver with his entire body, almost letting the bicycle fall to the cracked concrete, catching it at the last instant.
The stranger can’t help but smile again as he wipes at the ever growing mountain of sweat on his brow with his soaked through sleeve. “Yes. Very cold. Snow.” He says mimicking the fall of snow flakes with his fingers.
The man looks puzzled but smiles anyway and they keep walking, out of the tiny path and onto a busier street. They don’t stay on it for long though, and the traveller is glad to escape the chaos back into the relative serenity of another alley. More stares, but for whatever reason they no longer worry him, instead they seem welcoming and warm.
After ten more minutes of walking through the hot sun, broken up by countless small broken conversations supported and made whole by full body miming, the stranger points triumphantly to a sign above them. Amber Guesthouse.
The traveller sighs and wonders what to do. Why did I ever make a prepaid reservation? He asks himself wishing he could jsut accept this found home and thank the stranger for all his help.
“Oh… no… I have booking at HHHumble HHHotel.” He says trying to make each letter stand out, especially the H.
“Humblllleee.. With H?” The stranger’s brow furrows again.
The traveller nods eagerly. “Yes.. Humble…. Footprint.” He makes a footprint in the sand covered concrete and points to it in desperation, wishing he could think of a clear way to mime the word humble. Wishing not for the first time he had learned every incredible language from around the world.
The strangers brow furrows deeper than before, wrinkles covering his entire face even as he still smiles. That smile seemed the one constant of his face, it has become akin to the northern star in the travellers mind.
The stranger speaks again, his voice warm and ever patient. “I… good guesthouse. China town. 13 dollars.” He uses his fingers to count off the price.
“I… good price., I’m sorry. I made booking. I pay already at Humble Hotel.”
He nods and accepts the traveller’s denial though he may not understand all that was said, instead he signals for the traveller to wait and goes into Amber guesthouse. They share a few words and he emerges with a triumphant cast to his eternal smile.
The traveller gives him a hopeful smile. “You know where Humble Guesthouse is?”
He nods and points to the distance. He points to his non existent watch and rotates his finger 180 degrees then does a sign for walking.
“30 minutes?” The traveller asks. “Which way?” He finishes assuming his help to be done.
The man smiles and starts walking again, his worn almost bmx style bicycle dragged over the uneven streets beside him. Again he turns and grins. “Come.”
The bag seems to be getting heavier on his shoulders as they walk back the way they’ve come, out of the alley again and into the havoc of the busier street, which ends eventually, giving way to a highway within a city. The only difference between this and his 401 back home is that this highway is for all, bicycles, foot traffic, tractors and wagons, cars, trucks, buses. The swell of people feels like a tsunami crashing all around him.
The stranger points across the street then puts up a firm hand. “You… Wait.”
He then gazes out at the madness of a thousand vehicles of every type imaginable, inching along through the massive city. There are no lanes, and from the Traveller’s eyes at least no rules. Drivers weave and dodge in and out of any open space, inches and instants from collisions. The stranger though seems somehow calm.
Suddenly he turns and gestures emphatically, “Come.”
The traveller obeys and is shocked to see the man wading out into those churning seas, then the man thrusts his bicycle out in front of him and urges the traveller to take up residence behind it. They cross and continue through the madness at the edge of the highway, dodging through people who still stare at the white giant but hurry on about their business more quickly than in the alleys. still without exception they smile, and the traveller feels suddenly sure that were he not already clearly being guided, he’d have countless willing helpers all around them How was I ever worried? He asks himself, shaking his sweat drenched head as they continue onto another urban expressway.
The stranger turns back and smiles “5 minute more. You okay?”
The traveller smiles wide as he knows how. Words cannot express his thanks but he has to try. “Yes. Thank you so much…”
The stranger holds up a single hand and shakes his head. “Nothing.” He then continues, crossing through another seemingly unsolvable maze of traffic as if it were a straight line, the traveller safely shielded by his rusted bicycle.
They enter a smaller street, but not an alley. there are a few cars and many motorcycles but more people than the busiest streets back home. All around him are food stalls, tiny beauty pageants and ice cream parlours tucked into crevices of buildings. All around him people go about their lives, smiling and chatting with each other. The traveler feels himself relax just a little as he falls willingly into the life of the city. Through the chaos it as if he can suddenly hear the melody underneath, the smiles guiding him to it.
The stranger turns to him again. “Three more streets.” He says pointing forward.
The traveller nods and follows the stranger’s weaving path through the vibrant scenes all around him. Women’s grinning faces, their cheeks badged with a beige textured pace. Protection form the sun, he wonders as he matches their chattering smiles. Children dash all over the place, chasing each other, laughing and giggling, stopping bare moments to stare in wide eyed wonder at this strange new intruder to their kingdom. A quick wave and “Bye Bye.” Serves their interest before they lose themselves to their games again.
Together the traveller and the stranger cross the third street as the sun ducks behind the silhouette of the tallest building on the street, blessedly giving the traveller’s no longer white skin a moment’s respite.
The stranger points triumphantly to a sign ahead. Humble Footprint’s hotel and hostel. black and white against the endless rainbow of colour that is the streets of Yangoon. The people of burma. “Is good?”
The traveller understands that if this is not the right place he will not be abandoned. In fact he begins to suspect the stranger would sooner break his countries law and take the traveller to his home before abandoning him. But the sign is the home he has been searching for and a smile cleaves the traveller’s face in two. “Yes. Yes. Is good. Is very good. Thank you. Million times thank you.”
The stranger smiles and leads the traveller into the hostel reception, holding the door open for a man who owes him a deeper debt of gratitude then he is like to have the chance to repay. The stranger follows the traveller inside to the blissfully artificial chill of air conditioning, and as two young staff members help unburden the traveller of his cumbersome burdens, the stranger speaks to the hotel staff with such excitement in his tone that the traveller ha to wonder what is being said.
The conversation settles and the traveller turns to the stranger. “Thank you so much. You save me. Can I give you some money?” He digs in sweat filled pockets for his damp wallet.
For the first time the smile almost disappears from the strangers face. Almost. He shakes his head.
“You.” He presses a gentle hand to the travellers chest. “Me.” He lets his other hand fall over his own heart. “Friend.” The smile blooms again, full on his face.
The traveller smiles and shakes his head, wondering at his luck and the incredible kindness of people who have more right to rage than any he ever knew. He can’t let his friend go with nothing. “Yes. Friend. I tell all people in Canada, I speak to them of my Burmese Friend. It’s so hot.” He begin fanning himself. “Sit? We have drink. We are friends.” The traveller raises a hand to his mouth and pretends to drink.
The traveller’s friend considers for a long moment then nods and two can’s of coca cola are brought by the friendly staff of humble footprint. There are more smiles than words as they refresh themselves. The drinks eventually drained the traveller smiles once more. “Again. Thank you. I must shower… and then I will sleep.” He mimes both actions and his friend laughs easily.
They both rise out of teak wooden chairs and the traveller smiles. “You are why I love Burma, You are so friendly and you help me so much.”
The new friend smiles to him. “Nothing.” he says humbly turning and walking out of the glass doors, climbing his bike and waving goodbye as he disappeared back into the seas of life that are the streets of Yangon.
The traveller watches and undeniable smile on his face and a single thought filling his mind. This is why I love travelling, and this is why I love Burma. His brow furrows like the strangers. I didn’t even get his name.
The End
A note on the story:
This is just something I wrote out quickly this morning and has not been polished or even read over, still it encapsulates many of my feelings for burma and is all entirely true in spirit, the words of course may be a bit different than what passed, since I don’t have a perfect memory. The traveller’s fear and worry is exaggerated a little in the story but that’s only because I’ve been wandering through asia for 6 months now and am a fairly confident traveller. I felt like trying something new on the blog too, so there it is.
And now to your regularly scheduled blog:
I am sorry it has been so long since I’ve written. The internet in Burma has been very in and out and only now have I found a stable connection. I last left off in Bangkok where I passed a few enjoyable and fairly uneventful days relishing the comforts of choice a massive city has to offer before catching my plane to Mandalay, in Northern Burma.
Getting off the plane in Mandalay I had a good feeling about the place right away, from the friendly taxi drivers who immediately helped me find the free shuttle bus, to the grins of every local I passed on the street. I managed to find my guesthouse and a few friends from france, England and slovenia on the way there. Everything went smoothly and soon I was checked in and was napping, since I’d not slept the night before in order to watch Champions league. (Glory Glory Man United)
I woke up to the setting sun and hurried out to meet my friends for dinner. We eventually found a beer place and got cold drinks but found no food. We finally met a local who told us this is almost the only place open because in the morning students at the university have their exams, so all of the restaurants and bars were shut to keep the students from making a bad decision. That said he directed us t a tiny chapati stand on the street and said they should still be open.
This fast became my favourite place in Mandalay as the 6 of us chatted and gorged ourselves on incredible bread and curries while chatting to each other and with the incredibly friendly locals, who found one person who spoke some english and lovingly got him to act as the translator. It was a great night and we lingered a while, and those who stayed in Mandalay. for more then one night repeated the pattern for the next two nights. At the end of the first meal we asked how much and the young waiter answered 1800 Kyats. About 2 dollars. We each dug out 1800, happy to have had such a delicious meal only for him to take the money from one of us and refuse the rest. It wasn’t 1800 each, it was 1800 for the 6 of us. Roughly 35 cents each, for a filling and utterly delicious feast. We were all blown away. For anyone looking for this chapati stand and if you’re in MAndalay you should, it was on 27th street somewhere between 79th-83rd. Just ask a local around their, and you’ll make a new friend and get directed to deliciousness all at once!
The next two days I spent wandering Mandalay which is a beautiful if chaotic city, I didn’t do much of the touristy stuff,just got lost in the city, with no map and no plans, something that is fast becoming one of my favourite activities while I travel. On my first full day there I was walking around the royal palace which is surrounded by a massive moat (It took me about 3.5 hours to walk the circumference.) What happened about halfway through sums up Burmese people and their attitude to travellers pretty effectively, as A woman in strange face paints rushed up to me out o nowhere and began hugging me, and kissing me. At first I thought Oh shit, a prostitute, then I thought oh crap, keep a hand over your picket she could b a thief. By the time I left after a little dance with her and a few words of broken english conversation (I really need to learn Burmese) she was waving happily after me shouting. “Thank you.” and “Welcome” back and forth between them like a child who couldn’t decide which favourite toy to play with. She didn’t want anything, was just excited to see me and welcome me to her country. It was wonderful, and I hate that if I or anyone else did something similar in Canada, or most of the western world we’d be lucky not to be arrested.
After mandalay, I grabbed an early morning bus to the mountain town of Hsipaw- (Pronounced See-Pao) in the Shan state of Burma. The bus ride itself was pretty magnificent, watching the sun rise over small mountains as we drove up along winding narrow roads and into them. I tried to buy one bag of strawberries and somehow got forced to take 4 for what I thought was the very reasonable price of 1 bag. That made for sharing on the bus which was fine for all involved.
My guesthouse staff surprised me by meeting me at the bus and taking me to a charming room just off the main road in town. The staff of young men ended up all being huge premier league fans so I had a place to watch the 3 am city vs United game. Not such a happy ending on that one, but still a fun time watching the game with half the staff who’d woken up just to watch it with me.
Hsipaw was a beautiful little town to just wander around in and out of. Everywhere I went children waved and smiled and stared in wide eyes wonderment as they said Bye Bye, which means hello. I stopped sometimes and managed to teach them the word hello which they seemed to love, I also got to kick around a soccer ball with some local teens too.
Then I found The Shan Palace which has a long and storied history and an amazing hostess too. Some may have heard of the book Twilight Over Burma: My life as a Shan Princess. This is where that book takes place and the palace has a long history very much intertwined with the now changing political military regime of Burma. I was welcomed in the door by Fern (her english name) The caretaker of the palace and a princess in her own right. Her husband Donald was imprisoned for several years a while ago for being caught receiving tourists and explaining to them some of the history of the palace. Luckily he’s now free, and taking care of his father’s estates in the south since his father passed on a few years ago.
At any rate I ended up back at the palace three more times when I discovered that Fern, who loves reading and keeps a small library, had been given a tablet by another guest and wanted to use it as an e-reader but had no idea how. I battled poor internet and managed to get an app installed and loaded the things with classics which she’d told me she wanted to read and delivered it back. I can’t be sure she’ll ever get into it, but she seemed very grateful and it was a cool way to say thank you for her incredible stories and warm welcome into her home. If you go to Hsipaw make sure to stop in and say hello, and bring her any english books (or .epub files) that you have.
Hsipaw was filled with more friendly locals, eager and curious kids and great walking both in the city and outside of it to the tiny Shan villages . I saw ancient temples, new temples, lots of beautiful rice, corn, and watermelon fields and countless other things. Oh and cows. Cows in the street again. I think part of why I so love Burma is it has an indian feel to it, and for anyone whose been reading this blog they know how much I love India.
From Hsipaw I took a long night bus to Inle Lake, through the mountain Shan state. When I finally arrived I checked in to a nice but pricey hotel. (Shows how long I’ve been in Asia that 15 dollars for a huge twin room is pricey) I got into a nice writing groove in Inle and worked my way up to and into the first mini climax of home. I also got to watch manchester united matches with the staff and a couple of nice californian guys who I ended up sharing a boat trip with which was quite nice. They were fantasy fans so it also gave me a chance to give someone my beautiful but cumbersome copy of Words of Radiance. A book I think may go down as my favourite ever. Read Brandon Sanderson folks. Read every word he has ever written!!
The boat trip was an adventure in itself, albeit a touristy one. We circled the lake in a boat with a motor so loud it should have been powering a dozen jet engines and not a narrow canoe like vessel, still, the lake was incredible. Nestled in the mountains, Inle reminded me a little of Pokhara in Nepal, but much much bigger. (The mountains were also much much smaller). Still we stopped and met some local fisherman thanks to our kind guide and watched their unique method of catching fish. We also got taken to a weaving shop and a silversmith, where we watched interesting demonstrations both useful for my writing, though we didn’t buy anything. We also got taken to a cigar shop which made me wish I smoked.
The real magic of the lake though came not from the stunning scenery, or tourist stops, but from the villagers who made their homes on the lake. Quite literally. The amount of warm smiles and friendly waves we received could have turned the coldest day warm. (or perhaps the warmest day pleasantly cool since it was near 40 degrees out)
As we drifted quietly through a few floating villages we saw the slow paced life drifting past homes on stilts to eager waves and bathing locals (Obviously no photos, sadly not all tourists get this)
After 5 days in Inle on a hot tip from the californians I met I jumped on an Elite Night Bus towards Yangon. It as Elite with seat back tv’s, lots of leg room, and great friendly service. 12 hour ride for 16 USD. Well worth it. I arrived at Yangon at 5:38 am, and tried to find a taxi driver to take me across town to the other bus station. The drivers weren’t optimistic it could be done, but I didn’t take Weren’t optimistic it could be done as an answer. (reference?) Instead I hopped in with a man about as fat as me and for the next 20 minutes I felt like a race-car driver. I’m adapted to Asian driving standards, but this man took it to a new level, I paid him a full 2000 kyat extra for his service as he got me to the only bus to Chaung Tha with just two minutes to spare. I hopped on and about 8 hours later I was sitting on the beach in the incredible heat.
Chaunt Tha was beautiful, a really vibrant beach life full of tourists from other parts of burma, barely a white face to be seen. That said, it along with much of the southern coast does not have electricity during the day, and 40+ degrees with no shade or a fan is just not pleasant. I took 12 showers in under 4 hours to try to stay cool and decided to head back to Yangon the next day. A decision I almost regret.
I stayed at William Guesthouse in Chaung Tha and had some incredible fresh seafood at their restaurant. The highlight though came from the young kids of the staff. Late the first afternoon I brought out my bubbles which I’d purchase in Lao and made a gift of them to the kids. There was a group of 6 kids or so ranging from maybe 3 to 13, but I got closest with the two youngest a charming boy and girl who always seemed eager to play.
The children went crazy loving the bubbles and playing for hours with them, also seeing what other little games they could engage me in and I almost forgot about the heat before eating dinner then trying to head out for a long walk on the beach to see the sunset.
First I ran into a deaf man who was incredibly friendly and worked as a guide. I explained i’d be leaving the next morning in gestures but we ended u spending a full hour over a beer for him talking exclusively with the bodies. It was fascinating and incredible how natural it seemed to me by the end. It also made me really want to learn sign language.
Eventually we parted ways and I got to the beach just ahead of the sun vanishing and walked through an even busier more charming scene, full of football games, swimmers, horses, and everything else you could imagine. It was serene and beautiful and I spent a good amount of time standing in the water communing with my mother in some way and sending good thoughts out through the ocean to people I know who are struggling a bit right now. It was a great way to end the day.
The next morning I woke up for breakfast and found the two kids (3 and 5) eagerly awaiting me. We played a bit of hide and seek while I ate then the three year old found a yellow inflatable bouncy ball and that entertained us for the next two hours. Their was so much unbridled glee and joy that I lost myself in the games and almost missed my bus. (luckily it ran late) At any rate as I left the three year old wrapped herself around my leg and tried to forbid me from leaving which was so sweet but also heart wrenching and I started to wish I’d endured the heat for another day. Then I got off the bus and out of the taxi in Yangon and the story that started this entry happened. Worth the sadness of leaving this amazing kids, since I never could have stayed forever anyway, and I don’t doubt they’d have gotten bored of me pretty quickly anyway.
So this is where we leave off. Three more days in Yangon then a flight to Indonesia. The first leg of my trip is winding down. I’m excited to come home honestly , to see everyone and relax, but I’m also super pumped to jump off to South America next as well. Life is good. I missed you everyone. Sorry for the length of this entry. Hope you Enjoyed.
