Return to Yangon and the Train to Bagan

After two days spent exploring the area of Inle Lake, I was torn about which direction to head next. I originally had planned on heading west to the temples of Bagan, but I felt that I had not spent enough time in Yangon with Sian’s family. Knowing I had plenty of time left in my stay in Myanmar, I took an overnight bus back to Yangon to spend the weekend with my most gracious hosts.

During the weekend, my confidence in the decision to return to Yangon grew. Cooked and served selflessly by the mother and many of the sisters, I enjoyed multiple meals at their home, met the sixth sister, watched Burmese and Korean movies (of which I understood nothing), laughed uncontrollably as the sisters spread thanakha on my face, and took pictures of me with all of the family. All of these things I did not get to experience on my first and too brief trip the weekend before.

I again said goodbye to Sian’s family and Yangon, but this time I left content knowing that I was leaving not rushed, but with a sense of completeness in my stay in Yangon. Wanting to experience the infamous trains in Myanmar, I boarded the overnight train to Bagan. With the almost all foreigner sleeper cars all booked out, I paid $6.50 to go local by riding in the second class cars. Rather than beds our evening, night, and morning was to be spent on meagerly cushioned bench seats.

Myanmar’s trains ride atop track laid decades ago and have not been maintained as rigorously as many western countries. This is immediately felt by any passenger as he or she is violently thrown side to side, up and down as the train rumbles along. Things such as closed windows and doors are seen as safety standards back home, but here in Myanmar are unnecessary safety nets. Doors swing open back and forth and windows are open wide exposing the contents of the train cars to the rapidly passing outdoor elements.

Expecting a bumpy journey, the off road feeling of the ride did not take me off guard. The wide open windows acted as large HD television screens to live happenings as we passed from city to villages and countryside. During the 19 hour ride, when it was light out, I was glued to the window, waving at smiling children, taking in the golden glow of sunset and sunrise, and passing farmers laboring over their next crop.

Without the wide open window and the ever changing views it displayed on its screen, the train ride would have been a miserable one. Being too bumpy to read, write, or draw there was little else to do. Luckily I befriended the five Buddhist monks sitting around me by offering them cigars that I had bought in Inle Lake when I saw they were all smoking. They showed their gratitude with smiling faces and by offering me an energy drink. A younger monk, who spoke next to no English, but still more than the others, then pulled out his tablet and showed me various Myanmar and western videos. While we could not speak much to each other, the experience added a friendly note to the otherwise solitary train ride.

When night finally cloaked the daytime in an ebony blanket, the temperature dropped below comfortable levels and windows were shut. Being on our lowly second class seats and with the incessant jerking back and forth, sleep was fleeting. The seats were too small to even attempt the fetal position, resulting in the only option being to awkwardly twist to allow my feet to settle on the opposite seat. I managed to sleep in hour increments a few times until sunrise, each time awaking to one of my legs asleep.

Though the night seemed like it never would end, the sun eventually did rise and the windows unhatched to reveal the golden Myanmar countryside. Given coffee by my newly made monk friends, I warmed up slowly as we bounced our way to Bagan. Finally, 19 hours after saying goodbye to Sian’s family, I arrived in Bagan to start the next phase of my trip.