The day started pretty calmly, with a relatively early start followed by a relaxed breakfast at the delightful White Orchid Hotel, which along with the traditional noodles and fried rice that are staples in Burmese breakfasts also offered us pancakes, which went down a treat with a strong cup of coffee. The hotel Manager personally took us to the train station without charging us one kyat, making sure we knew where the ticket office was and giving us a couple of bottles of water before heading back, officially making this the best accommodation experience I have had since Sri Lanka.
The journey on the Slow Train to Thazi started off as a pretty normal affair, aside from the snail-like pace of the train (Mo Farah would have probably kept up with it for a good while) and the fact that we were initially given tickets for the same seats as a Burmese family before getting moved to an even more old-school Upper Class carriage, with long flat benches instead of the green armchairs we were originally assigned. The route to the first station was pretty pleasant as we had two benches to ourselves and got to enjoy the view while nodding off whenever we felt like it.
As soon as we got to Aung Ban, however, things changed. First of all the train stopped for a while and all the other western tourists got off, never to be seen again - it appears that one stop on the slow train was enough for them. We went to the bathroom and, when we returned, our carriage was quite a bit fuller than it had been before, with a little girl’s parents having to stand for the next segment so that she could sit next to a badass monk that accompanied us for the rest of the journey. Shortly after we stopped for another 15 minutes in Kalaw, where we got some pretty tasty curry (which would be our last real food until Thazi) and yet more people got onto our carriage, with the floor now being completely covered in either groceries or people.
We arrived in Thazi about fifteen minutes after schedule, more than eleven hours after we left Shwenyaung, with the last hour of the trip after sunrise seeing the carriage filled with even more insects than people, more excited about the lightbulbs on the roof of the carriage than I thought insects could possibly get. In stark contrast, Renu’s excitement for our train trip reached an all-time low at this point as the tiredness, hunger and a dislike for this transportation method finally cracked her usually bright and happy spirits for a short period of time. Little did she know of what was about to come.
Our plan for getting from Thazi to Yangon was to try and get on a sleeper train, with the overnight bus being our back-up option. All the research I had done pointed to it being a pretty safe bet that one of the two options would get us there in time for Renu’s flight, as the buses run hourly until about 1am, leaving us plenty of options. At the ticket counter of the train station we were informed there were no tickets for the 7.45pm train (sleeper or otherwise), and our only other train option was the slow train we had just got off, which departed at 10pm and arrived after 2pm the following day and which we had read about as being a fairly hellish experience. The bus was going to have to do.
After getting a taxi to the nearby city of Meiktila, which aside from being the point from where the buses to Yangon depart offers no other reason for any traveller to ever stop by - you can call it the Burmese Nagpur if you wish. Our taxi driver, in an effort to be helpful that we did not fully appreciate at the time, stopped at five or six different coach companies to ask if anyone would take us to Yangon, and the answer was always that all their coaches departing tonight were fully booked. Apparently the Thadingyut Festival meant all public companies and offices were closed from Wednesday to Friday, with people starting to make their way back towards the end of the weekend and eliminating any possibility of us getting on a bus tonight. We went to the desk ourselves making our best sad-puppy-eyes but were still told the next available bus was in three days, at which point I plan on being in Tokyo…
Literally stranded squarely in the middle of nowhere in a country ran by a military junta, we were left with no other option but to give up a vital organ for a taxi ride all the way to Yangon, which we managed to negotiate down to a mere kidney each. Our Thazi taxi driver left us by the side of a road next to the shop of the guy who had agreed to take us, where we had to wait for quite a while until our old and already sleepy-looking driver decided to get going (he was actually around for quite a while, but they must have had to catch up on the latest developments of the Myanmar Football League or something).
Shortly after we hit the road the gentleman muttered some words that were unintelligible to me, but which Renu interpreted as meaning that we would pick up a friend of his and take him to Yangon in the front seat with us. As this came in the form of a statement rather than a question we did not really get a chance to say no, although it left us wondering exactly in which way we were going to get slaughtered and me wishing they started by cutting my legs off, as it would at least temporarily make my journey a little less painful. As it turns out, his friend was the most harmless young girl, whose adorable family came to see her off and was so visibly grateful to us (for unknowingly agreeing to take her) it made us feel a lot better about the whole situation. My legs, however, were still confined to a space that made me consider turning myself upside down, before realising it was also too small for my arms to fit comfortably.
After stopping for dinner at a pretty dodgy roadside restaurant (completing a clean sweep of dodgy meals today - if I did not get food poisoning from the Kalaw curry or the chips handed to me by the adorable little girl sitting in front of us on the train or this place, I really should start buying lottery tickets) Renu and I swapped places and we are currently sitting, somewhat comfortably, in a car on the Mandalay-Yangon highway, with an ETA of 6am. It is just past midnight and our driver has already had to take a couple of breaks to do some stretches and what I presume are tried and tested wake-up exercises…
If you do not hear from me in a couple of days it was nice knowing you guys, take care and tell my family I love them for me. Although I am sure it will be fine.
Okay, he just took his hands off the wheel and yawned. This is going to be a long six hours…
Cheers,
J-Wowww
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