Yangon --> Inle Lake

After a couple days in Yangon, I decided to head up north to Inle Lake. I sat around the hostel while it rained for a bit, then got pick up in some sort of trailer, and was shoved in the back with some locals and a bunch of packages. It was about an hour ride to the bus “station” and it was so incredibly bumpy in the back of the trailer. I immediately regretted my decision to go braless that day.

Hanging with the hostel kitty during the rain

When we got to the bus “station”, a man pointed at me, helped me with my bags, then brought me to an area where a bus was waiting next to an open concrete room full with flies and stink. I use the term “station” loosely because it looked more like a market with buses occasionally coming in and out. I roamed around and started watching a women make Paan (I can't remember what the Myanmar people called it, but this is what wikipedia calls it. Here's a link to a description). The boys who worked for the bus company were hanging around too and helping her. As I watched, they offered me one, so of course I had to try it. It was weird. I think I was supposed to chew the Betel green leaf and swallow it, but the leaf tasted terrible. I was instructed to chew more. Whatever I was chewing tasted terrible, then at last, my spit turned beet red, just like the Myanmese men. A crowd gathered to watch the foreign girl try the local chew. They gave me high fives and it was awesome.

It had now been a while since I saw any other foreigners. I was getting worried, because I had no idea what to do. I was supposed to instruct the bus driver where to drop me off, then take a taxi from there to head to Nyuangshwe. I told the bus driver, but I might have mispronounced the township.

Lo and behold, lucky girl, I have become. When we stopped at our first rest stop of our 12 hours bus ride I was unsure where we were or how long we were to be there for. There was a man on the bus who spoke English, his hometown was Inle Lake, he was stopping at the same stop as me, AND his uncle owned the guesthouse I was staying at. He paid for my meal at the rest stop. It was a delicious soup made form fish bones, with beans in it, that he said was a traditional meal of the people in the northern part of the country.

We arrived in Nyaungshwe and his brother came to pick us up, and they dropped me off at my guesthouse.

Lucky me!