This distances in Myanmar are huge, it was around 700km from Bagan to our next destination, Yangon. We were keen to try the local trains, but decided against the 16 hour journey from Nyaung U (only 15km from Bagan) to Yangon due to the time and reports that the tracks in the early part make for a very bumpy ride.
Instead we took a taxi to Nay Pyi Taw where we spent the night before catching the train to Yangon the following morning. The drive was interesting for the first couple of hours as we drove through the countryside and saw people going about their daily lives, but once we turned onto the long, straight four-lane Mandalay to Yangon highway it was just driving. The trip took five hours, in part because our very careful driver did not exceed 80km an hour, even when the speed limit was clearly 100km.
Nay Pyi Taw is in the centre of the country and 12 years ago would have been a small village. But in 2005 the Government suddenly decided to move the capital there from Yangon, so created a new city. From the moment you arrive, it is truly surreal. Not at all like any other part of Myanmar we've seen. There are wide streets (including an eight-lane road through on part), well-tended roadsides and traffic islands, no rubbish, huge mansions and government offices as well as a gems museum, national museum, national library and national archives. What a fascinating place the latter must be! There are also lots of large grand-looking hotels, which seems odd given the lack of people around. All a bit eery really.
After checking into the Apex hotel (so large we got delivered to our room by golfcart, and we never saw another guest...) we decided to go to the train station to try and get tickets for our train the following day, and to pick up supplies for the journey. We'd asked the hotel a few days earlier to make the booking for us, but deciphered their reply to mean that trains cannot be pre-booked. Further research on The Man in Seat 61 had confirmed this. Apparently there are almost always seats available for tourists bookable the day before or day of the journey.
Arriving at the huge station that looks modern from the outside was a welcome dose of normalcy... there were people everywhere and it was a bit grubby. There was little signage in English, but we managed to find the ticket counters, which weren't staffed. We looked around the corner and found people in a little office to ask. It turned out they were the right people to talk to; they welcomed us into the office and gave us a seat while they wrote out our ticket by hand. There wasn't a computer in sight, so we puzzled over how they manage capacity and seat allocation. They wanted our passports but the hotel had taken them, so we just guessed at the numbers, which wasn't an issue even when the police checked our passports on the train the next morning.
The hypermarket is in a new mall that felt hastily constructed, like many things in Nay Pyi Taw. It didn't have a huge amount of food for its size, but you could buy all sorts of other things... clothing, homewares, furniture etc. Still, we managed to find sufficient fruit and snacks for the train ride. Clearly jobs are created in Nay Pyi Taw, as there was an attendant at the end of each aisle, just on case you need help. They looked bored.
We had dinner at Santino, a restaurant at the top of the only hill in Nay Pyi Taw (really just a little rise). I shamelessly ordered pizza. Maybe noodles are starting to loose their shine a little!
At exactly 8am the next day the train left for the nine-hour journey to Yangon. The train itself was old and in need of a good clean/new paint job. There were some very old fans on the ceiling, but they didn't appear to work. Ventilation was provided by having the sash windows open. Great for the view and airflow, we just needed to keep ourselves and our belongings inside. The train's entry/exit doors were also often left open which was a little alarming when you walked to the end of the carriage to visit the toilet.
We'd booked 'upper class' ($21 NZ for the whole family), so had large comfortable chairs rather than the wooden benches in standard class (definitely worth it given the length of the trip). We were spread over two rows, but the man who seated us quickly swivelled one around so we were facing each other. Upper class did not apply to the toilet by any definition. Easily the worst we've come across in Myanmar, where the standard is generally quite high (clean, Western with toilet paper available). Basically it was a hole in the floor with a seat.
We bounced (literally at times!) through villages and the countryside. The tracks were laid by the British during their period of governance between the 1850s and late 1940s and it appears maintenance has been on the light side in the intervening years. Who knew a train could bounce you up and down (which felt like a horse trotting; you were lifted a little off your seat sometimes), forwards and backwards and sideways? Certainly not us! At one point the side-to-side movement was so strong that our bags almost fell off the rack above. Adrian moved them to floor level after that.
There were a few foreigners in the carriage, but it was mostly local people. Occasionally someone would help translate when we wanted to buy food from someone through a window, and two policewomen had wanted their photos taken with the kids. Somehow that seemed even stranger than when monks have asked for a photo. As everywhere, most adults have betelnut-red stained teeth. At least one woman completely ignored the no spitting sign and regularly spat down the window side of her seat, which wasn't so nice.
We'd brought plenty of food with us so didn't need much, but we enjoyed watching people wander up and down the train calling out the names of the food and drink they were selling. Some of it was completely unknown to us. The sellers seemed to get on the train, stay on for a couple of stops then disembark, presumably to take the next train in the opposite direction home again. It meant different food was on offer from time to time, there was rice and curry, various local snacks, fruit, something wrapped in banana leaf and so on.
Adrian bought some little chrispy fried things about the size of a piklet. We weren't sure what they were, but on closer inspection discovered they contained tiny little sheimp-like creatures and tasted fishy. Not my favourite! Drinking sweet milky coffee as we hit some decent track-turbulence was a challenge that had us in fits of laughter. The food people barely flinched at the bumps and bounces as they walked the aisles; the women carrying laiden trays on their heads without losing a thing were amazing!
We soon discovered where all the Nay Pyi Taw rubbish went; over the side of the road along the tracks. Yuck! From the train we saw rice paddies, fields, villages, some of which had rough volleyball courts and football pitches, more rubbish, animals (lots of pigs and goats), and people. The level crossing gates are manually opened and closed by a man at each village. One even did it with his baby on one arm.
The poverty in some areas is extreme, with families living in small bamboo shacks which appeared to have next-to-nothing inside. Apparently the majority of people here earn around $US2 per day, so life is hard. Some of the worst poverty we saw was on the outskirts of Yangon where in addition to shacks there are dilapidated apartment blocks. Eleanor and Leo noticed the housing and we talked about it, but I don't think they could comprehend what it really means for the people.
The train journey was a fantastic experience and the kids were great the whole way, but by the end we were pleased to arrive in Yangon and be back on solid ground.
Apex Hotel dining room. Eleanor loved the colour scheme and table settings. I was less convinced. It felt like showing up for a wedding reception 2 hours early.
Fun and games in the Nay Pyi Taw ticket office
On the train
Posing with police officers
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