The Rum Diaries 'L' Golden Jubilee Edition (that's 50 folks)

It makes me quite proud to be able to look back over the last two years and view our accomplishments through the prism of fifty rum bottles. 

The lucky number fifty is yet another of Myanmar's finest- this time their Mandalay Export Quality. Another 43%-er that we brought over the border for the very purpose of enjoying on a balcony somewhere in Thailand. And so we did. 

Much like CUB beers, despite Mandalay rum's various guises it all tastes much the same. Unlike CUB beer, that's not a bad thing. Since we were lushing it up on a balcony overlooking the Andaman Sea, we decided to get fancy and order a bucket of ice and soda water. And I'm pleased to say that we were able to stretch this tiny little 640ml bottle out over three nights (and three glorious sunsets). We must be growing up. 

Ko Chang Noi: a week in pictures

Day One: the view from our balcony

Day Two: Sunset from the balcony

Day Three: sundowners

 

Day Four: Rum Run

Day Five: another day, another sunset

Day Six: last night someone got drunk and lost their outboard engine overboard. This morning we watched from the hammock as they spent an hour snorkelling and looking for it, and then another hour dragging it up from the bottom. :)

Day Seven: sunset with sundowner in hand. Happy days

P.S. In case it wasn't already plainly obvious, this week has involved very little action. But it has been beautiful. 

The Rum Diaries Part XLIX- The Rum That Got Away.

Welcome to another of Myanmar's criminally cheap bottles of rum. Golden Island is another 43% Burmese stab at Caribbean quality...see the misleading outline of Barbados and the five golden stars on the label there? Not in any way related to the product inside I can assure you.

Again, considering the price (1500 kyat or just under AUD$2 for a bottle) we were hardly in a position to complain. Even when the man who was supposed to be driving us to the border of Thailand snaffled the entire bottle after being offered a drink...the few slugs we'd already taken out of it meant it was still good value for money. 

You know it's an average bottle of rum when someone makes off with it and all you can do is shrug. Had it been Flor de Cana, there may well have been a fist fight. 

The Rum Diaries Part XLVIII- The Rum With No Name

The Rum with No Name does have a name....we just can't read it. After two years of research it pleases me to say that I think we have finally found the world's cheapest rum. At 700 kyat for a 640ml bottle it comes in at around AUD$1.20 per litre. It may not be great...in fact, I'm not even sure I'd say it was good, but you really can't argue with liquor that's cheaper than petrol now can you?

We found this piratey looking bottle of rum on the second night of our trek from Kalaw to Inle Lake. If we hadn't already known that Myanmar produced rum I doubt we would have trusted the dodgy label but having already sampled the country's insanely cheap national brand we thought we'd brave the cheap shit. 

The label claimed 43% but I think we can safely say (having made our way through the entire bottle in one sitting once we hit the lake) that an alcohol content similar to port was probably more accurate. It tasted ok...hell, we drank it, but I think it's best that this rum remains nameless. 

Hiking Kalaw to Inle Lake

Travel is always a subjective experience. We've loved certain spots only to hear them disparaged by other travelers and been completely underwhelmed by sights that had come highly recommended. This is what I like about reading guidebooks and online travel blogs- you often discover through other people’s idiosyncratic interests something you may never have considered.

It is with all this little disclaimer that I say that the writers of the 2011 edition of Lonely Planet Myanmar and I seem to diverge rather sharply in our opinions. After a few days touring the temples of Bagan we headed out to Mt Popa, having read in the guidebook that it was “gorgeous” with a “picturesque complex of monasteries, stupas and shrines”. After one and a half hours we arrived at the jam-packed village surrounding the main temples and walked the steps to the concrete, monkey-shit-covered monstrosity to take in what may have been a beautiful view had it not been impaired by piles of garbage thrown unceremoniously from the top.

In the recommended sights to take in on a tour of Mandalay (admittedly, not really a city which has much to commend it), the writer suggests the banks of the Ayerarwaddy River where “it’s endlessly fascinating to watch the plethora of cargo boats loading and unloading”. Hmmmm. Methinks our author may have been partaking of some of the local hashish, the smell of which wafts strongly from darkened doorways downtown.

Happily, our opinions also differ on the trek from Kalaw to Inle Lake, which seems to be downplayed somewhat in the guidebook (although perhaps the authors were just covering their asses against contrary bitches like me!). The landscape is agricultural, but beautiful, even at this, the hottest and driest time of the year.

 

We loved the three day trek, which takes you from Kalaw (around 1350m above sea level) to the marshy shores of Lake Inle (around 800m), through tiny rural villages, remote monasteries and Burmese farmland.

 

We were very lucky to end up with Ko Ti (Mr. T) as our guide, a 53 year old school teacher, who was able to share the country’s and his own history, far better than a younger person might have been able to. He was open with us about the military government, showing us the palatial mansions of generals on the outskirts of Kalaw, but optimistic about the future, which made me more hopeful for Myanmar’s scheduled 2015 elections. 

 

He was also immensely curious and at times bewildering uninformed about the rest of world- when talking about the long flight to Australia he asked about whether there were toilets on the airplane and wondered whether Cambodian and Lao people looked anything like the Burmese. He’d married late in life, preferring his ‘freedom’ until he met his wife, whom he wrote love letters to and serenaded, before finally marrying at the age of 43. Very cute. 

The walk itself was not particularly strenuous, but given that it was around 40 degrees in the middle of the day, we were pretty hot and knackered by the time we arrived at our homestays in the afternoon and were happy to conform to the 9pm bedtime favoured by farmers and people who live without electricity the world over.  

 

While the scenery was certainly beautiful, the highlight was definitely passing through (and over-nighting in) tiny villages where people still live very traditional lives. And though this is probably the most heavily touristed part of the country-side, people still seemed very interested to see us and talk to us (through Mr T...our knowledge of the Burmese language hasn't moved far beyond 'Hello- Mingalaba' and 'Thank you- Jey zu be' which would elicit responses ranging from shy smiles to gales of laughter). 

 

We even liked the children!!! Cute Pa-O children who were fascinated by our magnetic backgammon set, my sunglasses and of course, watching themselves dancing through my flippable camera screen.

The only downside to the trip was having to wedge my feet back into sneakers after months of wearing nothing but flip-flops. By the time we arrived at Lake Inle I was sporting some very impressive blisters and my left toe-nail had turned a rather worrying shade of purple (still not sure if I'm going to lose him but fingers crossed). Definitely one of our best experiences in Myanmar!

Resisting homicidal urges on Burmese bus rides

Having traveled through Bolivia, Nicaragua, China, Laos and Cambodia I feel my opinion on the matter of excruciatingly painful bus journeys carries extra weight. I've endured 18 hour, 196km long crawls in the Bolivian lowlands; chewed my fingers down to the second knuckle as a Peruvian taxi driver careened around blind corners on mountain passes; gotten intimate with overweight Nicaraguan ladies as 160 people were crammed into a 60-seater chicken bus; and suffered the dare-devil, suicidal speed-freak fleet of Cambodian minivan drivers. 

It is with all this in mind that I want you to listen to what I'm about to say: Burmese bus rides are hands-down the world's worst. It's not the quality of the roads (average, but better than you'd expect), the quality of the buses themselves (again, average but with less spitting than China and less barnyard animals than anywhere in Latin America), or even the drivers (in fact, Myanmar people are among the most cautious drivers in Asia. They display an almost freakish regard for human life). 

The one thing that elevates Burmese bus journeys from simply shit to truly unendurable is the onboard entertainment. I never thought I'd say this but I'd kill for some Bolivian love ballads, ear-drum rupturing salsa music or even kitschy Chinese soap operas.

Because anything....ANYTHING, is better than execrable Burmese pop music. Anything, that it, except Burmese telemovies.  And it's not just bad...it's LOUD!!! So loud that even two 10mg valium and Martijn's speed metal can't compete. And while even Latin Americans turn down the salsa/cumbia/reggaeton for overnight trips, the Burmese just stick another wad of betel nut in their cheek and crank that shit up. 

I've tried not to let these torture marathons colour my perception of the country overall, but from the first moment I step on a Burmese bus all rational thought flies out the window and only a murderous, seething hatred of Myanmar and everything in it remains.

Thankfully, it's quite difficult to find all the Burmese hits on the internet...but here's a taste of what we've been subjected to over the last three weeks...it needs to be played at distortion-level to be fully appreciated:

Welcome to my personal hell