English, Text


Yangon, Dalah, Bagan, Myitkyina, Nyaungshwe, Inle Lake, Kalaw, Heho, Kengtung, Wan Pin, Pin Tauk.

If you ask the Burmese, which country they don’t like, they say Myanmar.
If you ask tourists which country in Asia they like best, it’s Myanmar.

Yangon: Steaming hot streets, fumes evaporating from every building and taxis too many to count. Everything pushes its way through the old narrow streets of Yangon’s Chinatown. Walking past some cycle rickshaws that carry their human load one forward and the other backward facing. Chinese style rickshaws maybe, narrow, efficient and the perfect vehicle for the old roads, lined with parked trucks and garbage deposits. The smell and the fumes create a polluted brain; there is no escape from the intensity of people and their creations.



The houses are decorated with growing mold patterns; the sewers are open adding to smell invasions which can be as diverse as the quarters of this town. There are streets dedicated to professions, certain ethnic markets and tourists. Some of the buildings have been renovated but the humidity and exhaust fumes are again chewing on their façades. Small and big temples everywhere, people carrying their offerings to them day and night. There is no pardon, everyone squeezes through and past – in the stores, temples and certainly on the streets. Big bus beats truck, taxi beats motorcycle, motorcycle beats rickshaw – and everything and everyone on their feet has to dissolve itself to get where they want to go – alive.

In the morning, the fog – mostly created by burned garbage – is lifting slowly, dissolved by the morning breeze and the sun. The curtain opens for another day in this new melting pot of foreign interest and opportunity.


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