A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Yangon, Myanmar (aka Rangoon, Burma)

My first evening in Yangon I stupidly forgot my umbrella. Actually it was worse than that -- I remembered as I walked out of the hotel and felt the sprinkling, but as I was out of shape and staying in a windowless 4th floor walk-up, I immediately adopted a "hope for the best" attitude that went horribly, horribly wrong.

The good part of it was that I discovered that the Burmese are quite helpful and friendly and find sodden, dripping foreigners very approachable even when walking at a rapid clip. Before the rain started I was approached by only two people. The first was a very sweet girl who thought I looked confused while wandering through a temple (which I indeed was). The second was a long man who invited me to his monestary to practice English. (Is that a line? Hard to tell. He didn't look at all monklike.) After the rain, and in the dark no less, fully seven men offered assistance of various kinds (not that kind, get your mind out of the gutter). Admittedly, the first one wanted to sell me bus, train or planetickets at a markup, so he wasn't exactly The Good Samaritan. My second companion I couldn't get rid of. He saw me scurrying by and gave chase, determined to share his umbrella and make whatever conversation is possible when no language is shared. He did have some English, but not enough to understand "Why are you here" or "where are you going", so we adopted the English country village lane mode of discourse and talked about the weather. Or rather, we repeatedly exchanged exciting snippets of dialogue like:

Umbrellaboy: Rainy rainy!
Me: Yes, rain good! [I often find myself inadvertently speaking pidgin English in these situations]
Umbrellaboy: Rainy good good!

Sure, it was no My Dinner with Andre, but we were communicating, I had half an umbrella, and he was clearly thrilled to be providing it.

My next assistance came under a cement overhang, where Umbrellaboy and I paused to take a peek at my map. I had taken a somewhat circuitous route when leaving the hotel, had failed to note the address, and wasn't at all confident of my ability to find it easily during a downpour in a city with no operational streetlights. I was quite a sight by this point, hair cemented to head, clothes dripping in tandem with the raindrops, glasses uselessly opaque with fog. Apparently I wasn't as scary as I thought, as several men immediately came over to check out my map, make small talk, and give us directions. They eyed Umbrellaboy with some curiosity and I explained that I had no idea why he was following me. They accepted that without question; perhaps inexplicable whims are commonplace in Yangon.

Several blocks later another map check brought us two more helpers, a father and son who had learned English in Bombay. They examined the map and insisted guiding us personally, so I arrived back at the Daddy's Home Hotel streaming wet with three local escorts. Lord only knows what the hotel staff made of the situation. My only comment as I picked up my key at the front desk was a smiling "Forgot my umbrella!"

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 8:56 PM