The Man of the Market - A Yangon Short Story

PANZUNDAUNG MARKETS, YANGON 2017

Sauntered? Swaggered? Sidled? 

Nope, none of these come even close to an iota of his approach. It was as though this old tiger got a whiff of foreigner from the other side of the market, catapulted himself over roaming chickens, stray dogs, and merchants to get to me in order to both ask me some very pressing questions, and practice his English.  

This is not the man of that market, but surely of another.

It was 0730 on a weekday morning, and peak hour at the Panzundaung Markets on the edge of Downtown Yangon. Located on the first bend of the Panzundaung Creek, it’s a hive of activity — even by Yangon standards — and adding an extra chaotic layer are the boats spluttering back and forth from No. 3 Ward in the searing heat or torrential rain: it tends to be one, the other, or both. Even after all this time I still get lost in these markets, but there is a routine once I find my starting point which is my flower lady. She has the best lilies, and in peak season they come in a kaleidoscope of colours: reds, oranges, yellows and pinks. Saying that, I always buy too few as I feel disloyal to my other flower lady on Maha Bandula Road who practices my Burmese with me, so I also pay her bi-weekly visits. Neither of them know about the other: there is no need to learn how to articulate that in Burmese. 

Following that, I go and get a cup of tea in one of the sheds where groups of old men play games with beer bottle caps, and it is quite a serious business. If they are not playing then they are reading papers and arguing about the contents with great passion. As soon as you get in there you are deprived of circulating air, and the sweat starts pouring as though you had entered a European sauna. Although mildly uncomfortable and not aesthetically gratifying, it is one on the feelings that is always at the forefront of my mind when I am away from Yangon and dreaming. You may be wondering why I get the flowers first? Well, it is my attempt to “blend in” as much as one can in my situation, and allude to going about my daily business as normal. I then go for breakfast at a stand perched on the edge of the sidecar thoroughfare as not only are their noodles delicious, but it is the perfect place to watch this world go by.

On this particular morning in 2017,  I was quietly trying to learn about noodles — if “quietly” is such a thing given that I am a 6’ white woman with a booming yet husky voice, well  out of the tourist area, wearing a tailor made Longyi (off the rack do not fit me for a plethora of reasons), and trying to learn Burmese — whilst attempting to order them . It had become quite interactive and A-Ma was helping me by waiting patiently for me to read the Burmese word and was then lifting up the corresponding noodles from big barrels which would surely be empty in the next few hours. Many people were coming and going, mostly getting bags of takeaway as they were laden with all sorts of ingredients, and this was the last stop before heading home from work. However, many lingered, and even though they pretended to not be interested, their shyness gradually dissipated and  the furtive sideways glances gave way eventually to sweetness and giggles. After a purposefully prolonged dance, I ordered my soup and she went about making it with the dexterity that comes from the volumes she prepares daily: as if in one fluid movement, the noodles, followed by the broth and the dried fish cut with blunt scissors, were prepared and in front of me. 

Almost out of breath, he arrived at the same time as the soup, wearing a wonderfully bright Hawaiian shirt atop a well worn Longyi: he had obviously made quite the effort, and it was reinforced by a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne which hit me squarely on my snout. His two remaining front teeth were a testament to his love for the Betel Quid, but instead of having the parcel circulating on his gums, he was munching on what appeared to be a cookie. 

“Where is your husband”? he partly demanded, as this knowledge is often imperative for Burmese men of a certain vintage. 

“Oh, I don’t have a husband”. 

Simultaneously perplexed and flabbergasted. 

“But who is going to look after you when you’re old”? 

“I have no need for a husband, and I like to look after myself”. 

Pure shock, then a small monologue — doused in pride —  about how he had a son in Singapore who was going to look after him when he was old. He then declared, to me and all the ladies, with a double layer of suaveness and community spirit which is rife in Myanmar,  that he was going to have to buy me breakfast as he was very worried that I didn’t have a husband. 

Whilst this was all going on, something quite frightful happened. You see, I have mentioned that I had my fresh soup, and that he had two teeth and was munching a cookie right?  Well, as he was talking at me, I saw, as if in slow motion, I saw a morsel of the cookie project itself out of his mouth and into the air, and then watched it land in my soup with a small gerplonk. That left me in a bit of a predicament as I did not want to offend the beautiful lady that had been helping me, nor did I think my exotic eating habits could stretch that far. So whilst he was moderately gently educating me on the merits of having a husband and children, I was trying to navigate the situation without offending anyone. 

Eventually he left (after so nicely paying for my breakfast) and I went through my books and found out how to ask to take it away. Whilst searching for this my eyes skipped over “Long time no see” in my notes. 

A certain amount of time passed, anywhere between three and five minutes is my guess, but who knows as the cookie projectile itself seemed to last about 15 seconds. My noodles were ready to go, I had my fresh lilies in hand, and I was about to stand up when he approached again with what appeared to be even more surprised at my lack of having a husband. It was as though he had gone away, thought about it, shaken his head, taken the last bite on his cookie (as his hands were now empty), and simply decided that it could not be true. 

Upon his return, I said, “Ma Twe Da Jabi Naw” and every single delightful lady in my proximity, young and old could not hold back the laughter. I am not as sure now as I was then that it was my attempt at sarcasm which elicited this reaction, as since that occasion, a strong majority of the time, when I say, “long time no see” the reaction is often puzzlement as they have just seen me the day before. Whether it was the sarcasm, or my rudimentary attempts at Burmese, it will always remain a mystery, but they were definitely laughing at something.  

He then said, “I still can’t believe you don’t have a lover”. 

“Oh, I never said that. I have no shortage of lovers”, and with that got up, took my now redundant breakfast and thirsty lilies, politely bade farewell, and left him gasping for words and grabbing for a Betel Quid. 

Ngwe Saung Beach, Myanmar

Word on the bumpy road to Ngwe Saung, located on the Bay of Bengal, is that it is the perfect way to unwind if you have a few days free at the end of your Myanmar trip. You know, put your feet up in a 5 * hotel and chill. You could do it that way, or…..

For this article it would be very convenient to spout forth a plethora of rudimentary cliches such as, “A hidden gem off the beaten track”, but well, it is not off the beaten track. On the contrary. By Myanmar standards, it is on the beaten track, and easily accessible from Yangon: you are looking at a 5 hour bus trip (unless you go in the middle of the night and have a bat-shit crazy bus driver munching on betel nuts, then you might get there in four). Adding to this, the gems are not hidden – they are right there, in plain sight – and the only way that you could possibly miss them is by confining yourself to your 5* hotel whilst sucking back cocktails and burgers as you discuss how much you love immersing yourself in the Myanmar culture.

So, to avoid the cliches, i am going to paint the picture in photos, ‘cause, as you know, a picture speaks a thousand words. DAMMIT! I did it again.

Part 1: NGWE SAUNG BEACH LIFE (sarcasm detector required)

You can’t even make the beauty of this shit up. If I tried to articulate it in words it would sound like something out of a Mills & Boon novel. So romantic that I held my own hand.

A great place at any time of the day to watch the world go by. Such as….People on their way back to the village after a day’s work. They probably earn about as much in a day as my delicious cold beer that I was slurping in front of them cost.

A renovators dream.

Sometimes it is nice to get your cock out on the beach.

This young guy was just chilling, but I soon put an end to that, as he is also my my beer guy. Child labour is so very underrated.

After giving me my beer, this guy got a little too chit-chatty, so I lent him my camera as unfortunately my crack-pad was still recharging in the hostel.

One of my other past times is making babies cry. Unfortunately this one only cried for the first few days, and then she could not give AF. Need to work harder.

You know what this post needs? A photo of me with some kids. Hopefully this will prove that I am not a total um… grinch.

Needs to go on Tinder, right next to the photo of me with a sedated lion.

I tried to negotiate a ride down the beach, but for reasons unbeknown to me, he could not speak English. That’s ok though because I kept on repeating myself more slowly and loudly until he got my gist.

On a motorbike trip to a fishing village south of Ngwe Saung I saw this family repairing a fishing net with a needle and thread. Don’t fret: I am sure that they went back home afterwards, turned on the air con, ordered some home delivery pizza, and then watched Netflix on the big screen.

A local fishing village. Naturally, all of the boats have passed stringent safety regulations, and all the fisherman operating them have wonderful salary packages including health care.

What fire show?

Hey, totally unrelated, what is the legal age in Myanmar? Asking for a friend.

Oh look! In Myanmar they also have workplace initiatives such as, “Bring your children to work day”. And I made this one cry. Bonus!!

The latest Rowenta DW5080 Micro Steam iron.

Now we’re talking! Off the beaten track.

The surrounding beaches are simply overrun with tourists.

But luckily, this influx of tourists is efficiently handled with solid infrastructure and transport systems.

Why are they taking my dinner for a walk?

But luckily, i got to see all of this from the confines of my 5* hotel, and the double bonus is that I did not have to support the local families and economy.

Part 2

The above facetious diatribe was fuelled by 3 weeks of holier than thou dieting, whilst simultaneously counteracting Monsoon Season with my very own dry season.

Ngwe Saung is a very special place to me as I spent three weeks there in September 2015. My days were spent exploring the surrounding areas, sitting on the beach watching the world go by, and learning a little Burmese (from the aforementioned child labourers).

Ngwe Saung was only set up as a tourist destination in 2000 with the goal of providing an upmarket alternative to Chaung Tha, a beach that is slightly further north which is easily accessible by motorbike. As Ngwe Saung is still a little green, it remains beautifully sincere and authentic. I would use the adage, “Get there before it changes”, but we, the foreigners are the ones who are changing it. This place is not Thailand, and hopefully never will be.

In order to not leave dirty paw prints over this part of Myanmar, just ensure that you treat the locals with respect at all times, and exercise particular decorum when exploring the villages. In regards to beach life, it is worth noting that the Burmese tend to swim in their clothes, and they do not go out past the waves. Whist I am not one to preach about appropriate attire, I can guarantee you that here – like most places in Myanmar– if you dress accordingly and stay modest the locals will be decidedly more receptive to you.

The hotels along the beach are somewhat different, and bikinis are the norm. I am not saying that the 5 star hotels there do not have their merits, but it really is a shame if you spend your entire stay there. You can also stay elsewhere, and visit a 5 star hotel for the day (everyone needs their fix). I chose the Eskala Hotel as, well, if you are going to do it, do it properly. In regards to the dwellings one may choose when they are travelling, it is a case of each to their own. Eskala for me is fine for a day, but frankly I find it somewhat bland and impersonal.

Instead, when I go to Ngwe Saung, I stay in the very affordable Dream House. Funnily enough, the wonderful Michael and Lei Lei used to both work at Eskala, meaning that the service is 5 star at a budget price. When I was there last time, it was a lot smaller and they were they were always doing small renovations and well thought out improvements: it was no surprise that when I went back this year it had expanded significantly in size. Also, not only is breakfast included, but they also have an extensive menu, which you can order from any time of the day.

The village is full of restaurants with delicious and well priced seafood, and my particular favourite is Social House, which is owned by a very lovely family. Saying that, sitting on the beach until the sun goes down is really not negotiable!! You can also rent bikes there (at the guesthouse).

Getting to Ngwe Saung from Yangon is relatively easy. Option one is to go to Hlaing Thar Yar bus station (which is an hour from downtown in a taxi) very early in the morning, or you can take the overnight bus. Well, it is not really overnight as you get in at 0330 at latest. The reason I endorse the second option is that the bus leaves from the main train station in downtown at 2130, meaning that you miss all the traffic as well as having to make the trek out to the other bus station. For this, there is the Asia Dragon Express, whose office is also very central, but you can book tickets over the phone.

With that in mind, I would not really recommend it during the peak Monsoon, but, the tail end of Monsoon for sure as that is where I caught all of those beautiful sunsets.