A bus, a breakdown, and a bathroom in Burma...

You know, I've heard nothing but terrible things about trying to take long-distance bus rides in Myanmar, but I must say, after my first such attempt, I am more than impressed. With the exception of the young guy sitting next to me who didn't understand the concept of "personal space" and kept spilling over into mine, and a 2:30am breakdown, it was possibly one of the better bus experiences I've ever had.

The bus "station" in Yangon. 

When I arrived at the bus "station" in Yangon, I couldn't helped to be overwhelmed by what was more like a neighborhood of long rows of private companies and a lack of a central building or ticketing area that would connect them. The area was huge, and it made me thankful that I already had my ticket in hand and a taxi driver who knew right where to take me. I can only imagine the nightmare that would ensue for one who got dropped off there without a ticket. There are probably dozens of companies going to the same destination, but the quality of the service and the buses vary greatly. On my bus, which was fairly old, we were given pillows, a large bottle of water, and a little package  containing a toothbrush and a towelette. Not bad for the 3rd world, and definitely better than the lack of service you come to expect in the states if you have ever had the misfortune of relying on Greyhound.

But what I can really appreciate is the way you are treated in this country before boarding and after getting off. In Thailand, the "swarm" is very common. What I mean by that is that whenever you enter or exit an area that is heavily guarded by locals trying to get your business, they get in your face and are all competing for your business. They will tell you just about anything to get you to go with their company, or take their taxi, or even let them carry your bags. I remember when I first arrived in Bangkok about 2.5 years ago, my friend Tracy and I got off the bus from Thailand's largest island, Phuket, where we had been training to be English teachers, and I told the guy who carried our bags "thanks" when they were loaded up in the cab.

He wasn't looking for a thanks though, he was looking for money. But he never asked if I wanted him to carry my bags for me, because if he did, I would have said, "No thanks, I can get them by myself." So that's just the style in Thailand, swoop in and pick up your bags and then expect to be paid for a service that was provided but never quite warranted. So when I first got to my hotel in Yangon, I sort of flinched when the young guys who were working there ran up to grab our bags after an old beater bus picked us up from the airport. But they just do it to offer a nice service, and in no way are you supposed to tip them, at least from what I could tell.

And it happened again, at the bus station, the guys ran up to the taxi and took my bag to put it under the bus. It's like they won't let you touch them, and it's all done with a bright smile on their faces. Happy to help, they are, and without wanting anything in return.

It is so relaxed here that it makes me feel quite at home. Yes, Yangon is a step or two down from Bangkok, in terms of the quality of living, cleanliness, etc, but there is a certain charm to it that I haven't seen elsewhere. The other night, while walking down a rather tight road lined with block after block of 7-8 story apartment buildings, I noticed how many people were sort of sitting or standing on their balconies, either interacting with each other or just visually engaged in the happenings of the neighborhood. The apartment buildings are pushed so close to the sidewalk that people were having conversations from 5 or 6 floors up with people across on the street on a 3rd or 4th floor. It just had such a warm community feeling, and on top of that, the children love to yell out "hello!" as you walk past.

So when I arrived in Nyaung U this morning at 4:30 am, there was half a dozen guys waiting at the bus station and offering rides by various means of transport (horse and buggy, tricycle rickshaw) to get people to their hotels. What I have come to expect is that these guys will swarm your face the second you take a step off the bus, which is quite a way to be greeted while arriving in a new town at that hour, but to my surprise, that was not the case at all. One guy helped to dig my bag out from under a couple others, and then I sort of stood off to the side for a minute or two before being nonchalantly approached by one guy first, and then another a minute later.

"Where are you staying?" was the question in somewhat decipherable English. The tone and attitude of the guys was so relaxed and quiet, I half expected they were going to try to sell me drugs instead of offer me a lift into town. "Maykhalar," I responded, "do you know?" "Yes, yes, do you have a reservation?" "Yes, I have already," I informed them in my broken yet understandable English. When I asked them how far it was, they actually told me the truth, saying the town was only 700 meters away and that I could walk to my guest house in 15 minutes. Wow, that is amazing, usually a tuk-tuk driver in Thailand would say anything but that in order to get your business.

2:30 am breakdown. Inside the open compartment is a "mechanic,"
aka a handy passenger who ended up fixing our bus. 

Now I don't want to make Thailand sound like a bad place to travel, but in my opinion, it's better to live there than to travel there. Living there, you get to know the ropes, and you can sort of maneuver your way through the country while minimizing your dependency on scammers and swarmers. Okay, there are many seasoned backpackers out there that seem to be able to do this also, but for me, it took learning the language and culture a bit before I felt like I was empowered.

It's not that Thai people aren't as friendly as the Burmese. I'd say it's just that the tourism industry is so large and has grown so fast, that we (travelers) are actually breeding scammers and swarmers that were never there before, due to the amount of money there is to be made off of us and the relative ignorance of the typical visitor. When you see travelers biting the hook from these guys so easily, it's no wonder that they are out there fishing for us.

Anyway, back to my bus trip. Another thing I have come to except when taking these long bus trips in SE Asia is that the bathrooms at the scheduled stopping points can easily be a low point of your trip or maybe even your whole life, depending on how prepared you are (toilet paper/hand sanitizer ), and if you are a woman or going #2, your ability to squat down and hit a toilet that is more like a hole in the floor, all without touching anything! In most of those bathrooms, you can forget about the possibility of there being soap, toilet paper, or even the more common "bum gun," which is somewhat of a garden hose that is a substitute for toilet paper.

So when we pulled up at our scheduled food stop at 9:30 last night, I stumbled off the bus and was surprised to see what was essentially the Las Vegas of bus stops. There were many bright lights and a line of different establishments, some being hotels with restaurants, some being restaurants, and some being more like huge food-courts. All in all, you could probably have close to a thousand people eating in this place at one time. Not knowing where I should go, and still undecided as to whether or not I was even hungry after eating bag of  cashews that I figured would be a safer bet than relying on a grimy, dimly lit food stand that I've seen so many times, I just walked in a straight line toward the madness. Had I known I was arriving in the mecca of bus stop food centers, I would have saved those tasty (and local) cashews for later!

But I had another issue brewing in my mind, or in my belly more accurately, so I decided to scope out the dreaded bathroom situation. "Oh man, are you really going to do this here, now?" I asked myself. But I didn't see any other option, I was already past due and from what I had been told, I still had another 9 hours until I reached my destination.

I still wasn't quite ready to face my music though, so I decided it best to test out the urinal side of the establishment beforehand. I must say, looking down to an actual urinal instead of a nasty trough, and reading the words "American Standard," really offered a glimpse of hope to my shaky situation. When I was leaving, I was further impressed by a mirror that you could actually see yourself in and a multitude of soap dispensers that were fully loaded. Okay, I thought, it doesn't get any better than this, time to roll the dice a little. Still weary,  my lack of confidence was once again stifled by a startling discovery of a flushing toilet equipped with a bum-gun and toilet paper! Not only a rare siting in this part of the world; it was the first time I've seen such a wonderful sight. Still in what I consider to be a squatting zone (I try to make contact with as few toilet seats as possible) I was finally able to take care of business.

Not knowing how much time had expired, I hurried back to the parking lot feeling a lot more confident about my ability to survive the remainder of the journey, only to find that the parking lot, which was practically empty when I got off the bus, now contained 40 or 50 similar looking buses, one after the other in a huge row. Yep, failed to ever really get a good look at the bus I was on, and exactly where it was parked, so this could have been a bad situation. Also, I was sort of half asleep when we pulled up, and wasn't sure if I was still dreaming when I thought I heard the conductor yell "30 minutes!" I scoured the lot, up and down, trusting a faint memory that was now seeming all so distant, but my bus was nowhere to be found.

Obviously, the initial reaction is "Wow, sweet, they already left, good thing I have my passport, all my money, my new Nexus 7 tablet, and am in a super safe place with a lifetime supply of food and water." Okay, that's a lie, that was more like the reassurance that came after the initial freak-out of "Oh my God, what the hell am I gonna do?!"

I kept looking, now doubling and tripling back in what was quickly becoming a frenzy, and then I saw something. Through a narrow gap between two buses, there was was something there, something that I didn't know was even possible. Sure enough, there was a second row of buses! I busted through the gap and scanned the row, which only contained 5 or 6 buses compared to the mega-fleet that had blocked my view in the front row. I quickly spotted another foreigner in a sleeveless muscle T-shirt that I recognized as being one of the few other foreigners sharing the journey with me, and my troubles were over. Folks were just starting to board again, and I filed in line, and returned to my seat, more than happy to see if I could get back into that dreamspace that was interrupted by what indeed was the conductor yelling "30 minutes!"

So what I guess this all boils down to is that I have realized that my expectations, although allowing for a brilliant surprise to come in my favor, also left me spending much of my night in a nervous anxiety, hopelessly awaiting a certain fate that never came. Instead of being relaxed and enjoying the moments as they came and went, I was tense, and terrified of what might become of my rumbling stomach and what I thought was going to be another sketchy bus stop bathroom. So if anything, I should take a hint from the locals and just take it easy.

Yes, there will be some times when life hurts, but it's only when we take the pain seriously and personally that we suffer. This process isn't about perfection, it's just about honesty. As long as I can continue to observe and be honest with myself, and then practice kindness for whatever I observe, I am doing my job and I can have faith that repeated observations of unhealthy mind-states will lead to healthier ones.

Oh, and of course, never take a clean bathroom for granted. If you think your life is bad, but you have toilet paper, a toilet seat, and soap, think again, because you have it better than most in this part of the world. I know this already, but without the constant reminders, gratitude for the little things seems to fade away so quickly. I guess that makes me blessed, because living in SE Asia affords me to have that opportunity to be reminded on a daily basis!