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  • HOME
  • ABOUT
  • THE FAMILY ALBUM
  • ONCE UPON A TIME IN ROMANIA
    • ▸Bucharest, 1989: The days of Revolution
    • ▸I’ve also lived under communism
    • ▸Portraits of transition
    • ▸”Cabernet cu pepsi”
    • ▸Romania, 1990: Beyond the headlines
    • ▸“Mineriada” – My story
    • ▸Memorial of pain
  • WORK IN PROGRESS
    • ▸Barbershop
    • ▸Melancholic Identities
    • ▸Faces
    • ▸Fragmentary world
    • ▸Two
    • ▸Buddhist monks
    • ▸About windows and walls
    • ▸Mediterraneo
  • STORIES
    • ▸Alone, together
    • ▸Life and death in Varanasi
    • ▸Trans-Siberian – An experience of becoming
    • ▸Boxing in Havana
    • ▸Moving out of Escobar shadow
    • ▸One night at Htee Thein monastery
    • ▸Easter in Sicily – I misteri
    • ▸Easter in Sicily – La pasquetta
    • ▸Stalin’s Museum in Gori
    • ▸Havana: Between magic and decay
    • ▸Muay Thai for a day
    • ▸Cuban billboards
    • ▸Seeking a geisha
    • ▸Belfast’s murals: Behind and beyond
    • ▸Riding the Yangon’s ring train
    • ▸Bazar-Barakholka-Vernisazh
    • ▸An unexpected trip to Dhobi Ghat
    • ▸A different way to look at death
    • ▸Cannes under siege
    • ▸Inside the Guru’s kitchen
    • ▸Tibetan refugees
    • ▸The Golden Triangle: A Mecca of tribal diversity
    • ▸Bullfighting: Barbaric or art ?
    • ▸Crafts and traditions in Morroco
    • ▸Glastonbury with God
  • TRAVEL
    • Cuba
      • ▸The show must go on (part 1)
      • ▸The show must go on (part 2)
      • ▸The show must go on (part 3)
      • ▸The show must go on (part 4)
    • France
      • ▸Paris
      • ▸Paris. Again
    • Greece
      • ▸Mount Athos
      • ▸Postcards from Santorini
      • ▸Athens
      • ▸Mykonos – The picture-perfect Island
    • Germany
      • ▸Berlin
    • Vietnam
      • ▸Four days in Hanoi
      • ▸Cruising through the misty Halong Bay
    • India
      • ▸Portraits of Kashmir
      • ▸Rishikesh – Spiritual marketplace
      • ▸Life on the Sidewalk
    • Ireland
      • ▸The capital of pubs
      • ▸Ireland in ten days
    • Israel
      • ▸Israel in black & white
    • Colombia
      • ▸Colombia
      • ▸Paisas, coffee and much more
      • ▸Streets of Bogota – From Dystopia to Hope
      • ▸Life along the magical Magdalena River
      • ▸A non-touristy guide to Cartagena’s Caribbean paradise
    • Myanmar
      • ▸Min-ga-la-ba Myanmar
      • ▸Up and down on the hills of Shan State
    • Japan
      • ▸Tokyo
      • ▸Springtime in Kyoto
    • Portugal
      • ▸Life at the edge of Europe
    • Russian Federation
      • ▸The unexpected Moscow
      • ▸White Nights in St. Petersburg
    • Italy
      • ▸Rome
      • ▸Random Sicily
      • ▸Vedi Napoli e poi mori
      • ▸Venice
      • ▸Vanishing Venice
    • Morocco
      • ▸Sunset, camel rides and tea in Erg Chebi
      • ▸Medinas: Morocco’s hidden cities
      • ▸Morocco outskirts
      • ▸Djemaa El Fna encounters
      • ▸Surf and hippies
      • ▸The road of the One thousand kasbahs
      • ▸Amazigh – Berber – Free men
    • Georgia
      • ▸Postcards from Georgia
      • ▸The Many Faces of Tbilisi
    • Nepal
      • ▸Kathmandu Valley
    • Romania
      • ▸Romania to go
      • ▸Maramures
      • ▸Tara Motilor
    • Jordan
      • ▸Bedouin Trails
    • Turkey
      • ▸From Turkey with love
      • ▸Ballooning Cappadocia
      • ▸Where East meets West
      • ▸Street life, Istanbul-style
    • Mexico
      • ▸Finding Mexico City
    • Malaysia
      • ▸Transit KL
    • UK
      • ▸London
      • ▸Grab your kilt and bring your pipes
    • Sweden
      • ▸Stockholm
    • Spain
      • ▸Off-season Andalusia
    • Thailand
      • ▸Bangkok, year 2555
      • ▸Life in Pai
      • ▸Thailand
    • Laos
      • ▸Luang Prabang – The City of ultimate Zen
    • Poland
      • ▸Why I love Poland
    • Estonia, Latvia & Lithuania
      • ▸Neighbors, but not relatives
      • ▸Patarei – A little slice of Hell
    • Findland
      • ▸A sunny day in Helsinki
    • Denmark
      • ▸Copenhagen
  • SINGLES
  • CONTACT
  • MY BOOKS
  • MY VIDEOS
  • Terms and Conditions
  • Cookie Policy (EU)
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Riding the Yangon’s ring train

 

In Yangon, Myanmar (Burma) there is a circular train route that loops around the city providing transport for the local people into Yangon. The British built the railway in the 1950s. It does a full circle around the sprawling city and its surrounds. The journey is almost 46 kilometers and the train stops at 39 stations. The cost of one ticket is one US dollar. The circular train is the cheapest away around the city for the people. They use it for travel, transport, trading, business and a whole lot more.

The ride is hot, crowded, and chaotic. The train cars are old and weathered with hard bench seats. The windows have neither glass nor bars. Merchants boarded the train at the market station, hauling their enormous sacks of produce with them. Ladies with thick layers of “thanaka” (a paste made from tree bark worn to protect and soften the skin) on their faces sit chatting together, while men dressed in traditional “longyis” (sarong style skirts) chewed betel nut and spat its bright red juice out the window. On board people carry furniture, huge sacks of vegetables, electrical equipment, bundles of brushes, live chickens. Local ladies sit peacefully with their plastic baskets, monks peacefully stare out the window, eager food and drink vendors wander the carriage trying to quench the hunger and thirst of every passenger. Many people are quick to sit next to you just to strike up a conversation – you will be possibly the only or one of the few foreigners they have ever had contact with. This is Myanmar.

 

 

 

 

 

Riding the Yangon’s ring train

 

In Yangon, Myanmar (Burma) there is a circular train route that loops around the city providing transport for the local people into Yangon. The British built the railway in the 1950s. It does a full circle around the sprawling city and its surrounds. The journey is almost 46 kilometers and the train stops at 39 stations. The cost of one ticket is one US dollar. The circular train is the cheapest away around the city for the people. They use it for travel, transport, trading, business and a whole lot more.

The ride is hot, crowded, and chaotic. The train cars are old and weathered with hard bench seats. The windows have neither glass nor bars. Merchants boarded the train at the market station, hauling their enormous sacks of produce with them. Ladies with thick layers of “thanaka” (a paste made from tree bark worn to protect and soften the skin) on their faces sit chatting together, while men dressed in traditional “longyis” (sarong style skirts) chewed betel nut and spat its bright red juice out the window. On board people carry furniture, huge sacks of vegetables, electrical equipment, bundles of brushes, live chickens. Local ladies sit peacefully with their plastic baskets, monks peacefully stare out the window, eager food and drink vendors wander the carriage trying to quench the hunger and thirst of every passenger. Many people are quick to sit next to you just to strike up a conversation – you will be possibly the only or one of the few foreigners they have ever had contact with. This is Myanmar.

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