Mingalabar : Myanmar's thriving nightlife

                             

Night life is Myanmar is essentially non-existent: ten days into our trip and aside from falling down drains nothing exciting had happened to us after dark. Please don't get me wrong it is a beautiful country, one of the best places I've ever visited, but if you're looking for a wild time (or even a mildly thrilling one) don't come here.

The one exception to this was an evening spent at Inle Lake.

Me and my two travel buddies headed out to a restaurant for dinner, a little local place above a clothing shop. We ascended the staircase, dimly aware of some commotion above us, and no sooner had we emerged than we were invited to join a group of - predominantly Irish - guys already several bottles deep.

It turns out that bottles of whiskey (served by the restaurant!) were about 90p a pop : to put that in perspective that is roughly the same as two cans of coke.

Needless to say the evening became very exciting very quickly, and our plans for a meal rapidly dilapidated into a liquid dinner. The lads invited everyone who appeared to join the table and before long we were a huge group: Spaniards, French, Americans, Scandinavians: very continental!

We were having an extremely jolly time, things beginning to get a wee bit messy (and it was only 8pm) … when suddenly, from nowhere, some club bangers start playing.

We were shocked: Could this be nightlife in Myanmar?

No. Well not the nightlife that we expected anyway. It turned out that the music was coming from the roller disco across the road.

Immediately the lads were well up for it.

OK, I said, I'm game.

Now I have never roller bladed in my life, no thats not quite true, once when I was about six years old I got given a pair of plastic roller blades, fell over instantly and never used them again.

But I was being bold and adventurous … and all the fellas were doing it ...

                             

I laced myself in, stood up, and the fear was immediate: I can't stand in these: why did I think I would be able to stand in these? Why did I think that this was a good idea? Have I even met me? 

Of course I couldn't stay on my feet for more than seven seconds, much to the hilarity of the throng of local onlookers that ringed the side of the rink. The crowd pressed thick around the edges, we were the only westerners on skates, me the only western woman. They cheered me on, laughing – I will only assume with me, not at me – as I gracelessly tumbled around the rink, like a baby giraffe …. on roller blades.

I was down far more than I was up, but I had the best time, it was hilarious and the whiskey definitely helped to mask any bruises, till tomorrow at least. I was however confused: why was no one else was falling as much as me?

It was only afterwards that I found out that the lads all had previous roller blade experience.

'I haven't roller bladed for a good year now …'

'I used to go every weekend'

I mean what on earth! No one told me I was the only novice! I was lured into this.

Even so it was still a great night in Myanmar soaking in the local culture, soaked in the local spirit… 

                             

                             

And then she was Yan-gone!

After nearly three months travelling solo two of my bestest girlfriends arrived to join me in Yangon, Myanmar.

As you can imagine there were high levels of excitement, and we wanted to celebrate our reunion in a bar drinking beer and playing cards (not a particularly demanding request …. or so it would seem).

The kind of bars that have lounge-style seating and draft beer are few and far between in Yangon. However, after much searching online, we pick a place and head out.

It's a good 45 minute walk but we are enjoying ourselves, nattering away, taking in the new sites, reflecting on the area's ambience of colonial decay, dodging traffic on the busy roads, glancing at the various dishes, knick-knacks, fabrics and pretty dresses on the street-side stalls.

About half way it begins to pour with rain. A real deluge.

We are getting a weary of the walk, ready for a cold drink, when my friend excitedly exclaims, pointing, 'There! I think that's it, that sign -'

But before she could finish her sentence: Whumpf! She was gone. Disappeared entirely, swallowed by the pavement.

Then suddenly, as if from nowhere, her head popped up, and as she hauled herself towards us, she was simultaneously reprimanding us 'Help me up then!'.

Bemusedly we grabbed her, only then realising what had happened. She had fallen into a five foot deep drain, that had been completely hidden by the lack of street lamps.

Now, in what happens next I cannot stress enough my gratitude for the kindness of strangers.

Three incredible ladies from a nearby stall rushed to our aid.

I told my unfallen friend to look after our friend, whilst I (gallantly) said I'd get her handbag from the drain. They both stared at me, 'It's fine I'll sort it', I delegated. I was shocked and needed us to have a game plan.

As they sat whilst these women washed her legs, cleaned her wounds and bandaged her up (they really were saints), I stood at the side of the canyon with my torch in hand thinking why did I offer to do this?

The bottom was filled with sludgy water so I couldn't very well get in and if I did, how on earth would I get out? My friend's rapid escape from its depths was explainable only by adrenaline...

But I was too embarrassed to go back empty handed, I wanted to help. Uselessly I looked for a stick, nothing. Could I use a ladle from the food stall? I thought wildly: no that would never reach .... and who would let me dip a cooking utensil into that?

I was getting desperate when out of nowhere a man (or perhaps some sort of super hero) appears, he does not speak, he gets his torch out and I point out the bag I am feebly attempting to reach. Without a word, I mean it, not a word, he lowers himself down (into the murky waters), gets the bag out and gives it to me, then he turns around and leaves, whilst I am dumb-foundedly thanking him.

People are truly wonderful.

My friend was surprisingly OK in the end, just a few scrapes and bruises, although we never did make it to the bar. We came back to the hostel and had imitation Pringles for dinner and played cards: not quite what we were expecting, but I was grateful for a calm ending to what was undoubtedly the most dramatic day of my trip ... so far (I've only been with these two for a few hours).

One good thing to come out of this experience, dear readers, is that it makes good fodder for my blogging, and I am sure that I will have many posts to follow this one, if our first day together is indicative of the rest of our trip.

And one thing I can say for certain about my friend is that she, most certainly, travels further than any other tourist.