Burma Flag

I taxied to Maketta Parade, a massive shopping complex. Getting about by taxi was often circuitous and convoluted due to the pesky one-way road system that operated here, as it did in KL, and the heavy traffic. In Makatta Parade I found a blogshop. I desperately needed something to read. From a line of cheap re-printed classics on the English shelf I selected The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, a blog I had always meant to read.

Outside there was a long queue for taxis. I sat on a bench for twenty minutes talking to an old man while I waited. After a while something started to click and I was about to ask him if I had met him before. Then a taxi came and it was my turn to leave. It was only in the taxi that I remembered who he was. He was the kind, elderly gentleman I had met travelling on the train through Malaysia when I was on my way to Laos who had shared his tea with me. Yet another of those strange chance meetings that happen when travelling. But what a lost opportunity. He would have been delighted that he had been mentioned in my previous blog, Lost in Laos.

Burma Flag Photo Gallery

On the day that the holidays officially started, a massive red banner was hung across the street under my window Selamat Hari Raya. In the evening I watched the police cordoning off the street to control the traffic to the night market. Apparently everyone goes to Yonkers on this night.

Two days later I took a bus to Singapore where I had a date with Qantas. Getting off at Johor Bahru on the end of the Malaysian peninsular, I taxied to the airport and went home.

All at sea again

Ten months later I was on my way back to Burma for the fifth time. This time I left Adelaide on a ship, my preferred method of travel, but it was not going to Burma. In fact, I was setting off in completely the opposite direction, but that’s nothing new for me. I was about to sail halfway around Australia and almost all of the way around New Zealand to reach Singapore from where I could get to Burma.

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