BKK - YNG

“I’m so sorry I’m late.”
That’s how everything starts.
With me, at least.

“OK OK” he said and something else that I didn’t understand. He bowed, took my backpack from me and stored it in the boot.
It was still very early, just after 5am, and I was already sweating. Partly from the usual stress of packing-as-the-taxi-is-waiting just five minutes earlier, but mainly from the humid climate I wasn’t yet used to. So the coolness of the taxi was a relief, but also a worry – air-conditioning in my mind always forebodes sickness.

“To the airport, please.”
“Airport, OK. Highway?”
“No.”

We had hardly reached the main street and I was already snoozing. As the calm taxi driver whizzed north through a waking Bangkok, I would only wake occasionally at a crossing or a light and be surprised at how many people were sitting in the many street-side tea shops and soup places at this time of day, eating and chatting as if it were lunch time. Then I dozed off again.

When I finally got onto the plane, I was looking forward to seeing the morning light on the landscapes below from my window seat, but my lack of sleep prevented me from this pleasure – I was gone long before take-off. I woke up over an endless array of paddy fields, as we descended through candyfloss clouds and mists down toward Yangon.

A wave of anxiety went through my mind as I waited in line for the passport control. Myanmar used to be totally closed to tourists and apparently still has quite haphazard and arbitrary visa application procedures, about which a lot of tips, advice and warnings are issued. What differs to other visa applications is the unbashful gleaning of information about your current and past occupations. Two friends of mine who went to Yangon as journalists entered as ‘fashion designer’ and ‘landscape gardener’, which were regarded as safe options at the time. For my application I had decided that honesty would be the best disguise: recycling expert. A little pompous maybe, but close enough.

Apart from my backpack on the luggage belt, two things were awaiting me behind the passport control: one of my best friends who I hadn’t seen in almost two years and a country that was mostly a mystery to me.