The Road to Mandalay
Having resided in Thailand for over seven years now I’ve seen and been on all the visa runs possible in fact Mongolia is one of only two Asian country I haven’t tried probably due to my horseman ship is not what it used to be, and not being a nuclear physicist North Korea somehow lacks appeal…so most of the time I book myself on a sky bound bean tin as I cannot handle sitting in a mini bus which promises the room of Dr Who’s tardiest but delivers u in matchbox Toy…ota .
As I am working in Thailand I also need a work permit this means when I go to renew my visa I have to chop down half a rain forest to provide for all my company documentation, each country seems to have different rules and requirements which seems rather strange …add to this some of the most miserable people known to mankind often work the counter service, which can make it a drawn out process and sometimes your made to feel less welcome than a Somalian boarding an oil tanker..
Last year I decided to visit Burma or Myanmar as its now known…this was just
before the regime decided to have a monk culling season.. Rangoon or Yangon is like stepping back in time with a mix of Asian and old colonialism, I found the people on the whole very friendly although very poor and temples take some beating if your into that sort of thing. I stayed in a medium class hotel and hired a taxi driver for my three day visit which worked out about 800 baht a day. His car was so old I had to walk in front waving a red flag…honest, it would of been refused entry to a scrap yard.
So on my last day after playing the usual tourist I decided to visit the British Empire club. I had visions of the Mountbaton’s select X1 playing the Burma rifles at Croquet on the lawn, so I was disappointed to find an old building serving soggy pizza and Heineken with 2 pool tables and a dusty picture of Elizabeth II. After a quick chat the barman told me to go to the Strand hotel for a high tea ..as this was Rangoon’s premier hotel with a taste of days gone by. So off we set in our Datsun 120y weaving through piles of ox dung and human traffic slicks until we arrived at a huge Victorian building. We were greeted by a immaculately yellow clad bell boy who stood opened mouthed after the door fell off our car which he had just opened. Mahout my driver just grovelled, picked it up and staggered off “Are you a resident sir” enquired the turban wearing doorman …..”errrr yes I am and I require high tea my good man “..I replied in my best Etonian voice… .”please follow me sir”…I entered into a huge lobby with an enormous picture of George the 5th starring down on me, I was then led into the dining area full of cane furniture, big fans and potted plants(back in index then!), in the corner was a gleaming Steinway waiting for Noel Coward.
It was just as I imagined, I was then ambushed by ten musty feely touchy waiters …which resulted in a cramp attack in my calf …with a screwed up face I ordered Darjeeling and the full works for $15 and as I waited in eerie silence I surveyed the room.
In the corner sat Miss Marples I think she was dead and had rotted into the back of the chair with a fixed grin and an half knitted cat on her lap, in the other corner sat General Montgomery and captain Peacock choking on their fat cigars …I was back in 1922…sitting in a game of cluedo …mmmm the rev green in the library with a candlestick crossed my mind…then my tea arrived it was served in a solid silver pot accompanied by a silver cake stand filled with goodies. I was then offered the Financial Times and as I slurped with my pinky extended I noticed the paper was 2 years old. Then a voice from behind remarked…”very hot today sir”…”yes”.. I replied…”could be rain tomorrow”. ”oh” I said …”one should take an umbrella sir”…was this a Monty python sketch or for real, after polishing off 3 cups of cha and 25 items of scoff ..a very slim Chinese weasel with a black ratty moustache shuffled over and enquired …”will you be dining tonight sir”…. So thinking …what the hell…I
replied “yes I will and can I have my usual table and can you inform the chef General motors will be joining me about 8 pm” ……”umm” said the dining capt ..”I’m sorry sir I’m not familiar with you …..may I enquire for your name and room number” …”ok you got me fu man chew” …….”does one require the bill sir”….”yes please” …I paid the bill including a handsome tip whilst the bell boy summoned mahout who had just finished watering the trees… he zipped up and fired up the Datsun it then chugged up with plumes of smoke covering the hotels 1950’s Silver Shadow parked outside .I slid onto the stuffing less seat managing to position an old spring up my ***! like a fat
nurse with a suppository.. And off we clattered to the nearest bar Brgds sg
