Edit Blog Post
Published: February 24th 2016
KFC security Guard
Is there something about this chicken I don't know about that warrants a guard?
I awoke this morning feeling liberated with all the space in our room and the 15 foot ceiling. Breakfast was the full-meal deal and all you can eat. After stocking up for the day we headed out in search of the circular commuter train. Circular in the sense that it does a big loop around the city. We couldn't find anywhere to pay so just hopped on figuring someone would eventually come by. People are very friendly and were able to indicate to us where to get off.
Our first objective was to find the night train to Mandalay ticket office. The smell of garbage and raw sewage, the noise of traffic and beeping horns, the assault of bright colours, abject poverty and the need to watch the uneven sidewalk and dance to avoid oncoming foot traffic were painful to the eyes, not to mention the mention the smell of greasy street food all worked to smother our ability to concentrate on finding our way with an inadequate map and poor signage. Eventually we were rescued by an Indian fellow who took us to a travel agency to book tickets. While we waited he red-appeared with other lost souls. I
To which god I am at a loss.
guess he hung around street corners to pick up lost souls. Unfortunately, the train was sold out for the next day so we will be travelling by the night bus along narrow mountain roads. Not sure if I will get much sleep.
Next stop was the post office. Claudette sat at the entrance while I did my philatelist business. All went smoothly, much to my relief. I had become Leary after the last several encounters with postal authorities. Next up was the central with its 1600+ stalls. Lots of jade and jewellery stalls in one section, laquerware and bolts of cloth in another. A big space was taken up with sandal sellers. Claudette decided to buy a pair of subscription sunglasses. Lens, frame and eye exam, all for under $100, Ready in one hour!
Alas, the museums we had planned to visit were closed so, being totally drained, we decided to head back to our hotel. We found the ticket kiosk this time. Fifty cents each for a half hour ride. We had neglected to chech the time and with each station, the wagon became more and more crowded. While I was watching the signs for our stop, a guy wormed his way through the crowd. He didn't dare ask me for mine as I was more than twice his size.
Before embarking this morning, I had written down the name of the station. A young lady that was getting off at the same station took us under her wing. I had not realized that the name I had noted was for the NEXT station. Nothing looked familiar. We were in an area that few tourists went to, judging from the stares we received. Thankfully, we had a business card from the hotel and every hundred metres or so we asked for directions. We eventually made it back to the hotel, too tired to venture forth again in search of supper.
Tot: 2.164s; Tpl: 0.078s; cc: 13; qc: 28; dbt: 0.0472s; 2; m:saturn w:www (184.108.40.206); sld: 3;
; mem: 1.3mb