Notes on Yangon (which is also Rangoon)

1. Burmese script initially reminded me of the patterns woodbugs make when tunnelling into a two-by-four, then I decided it looked like binary code without the 1s, as seen through a wonky dot matrix printer, and now I’ve finally reconciled myself to the idea that it’s really just a series of counterfeiters’ adaptations of the Chanel logo.

2. You can’t row up to see her house on that lake. Nor can you casually stroll past. There is security.

3. There are , very few tourists here.  We went to a big park around a big lake with a lovely wooden boardwalk encircling the water’s edge and saw no one. We walked for half an hour and passed one other couple. We saw no foreigners except the Frenchman in our guesthouse. We are very obviously not in China anymore.

4. They really do scrutinize your dollars. So far, one $50 bill and one $1 bill have failed to pass muster. Luckily I’m spending all my money in kyats, drowning my unsorrows in tom yam soup with prawns the size of a small cat, chased down with fresh lime gin fizzes and taxi rides in disintegrating taxis.

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About MaryAnne

I live in Shanghai. I tend to travel. I cook stuff. I read a lot. I try to scare myself silly with regularity. I write about it all. A lot.