Buying a bike in Yangon, Myanmar

The beast! 

Most foreigners in large Asian cities are simply too scared to ride a bicycle around what they perceive to be chaotic traffic. It is such a shame. For me the choice of whether to buy a bike or not is pretty obvious. You can usually beat a car over a short distance. This is especially true during rush hour. The cost of running it is next to nothing. You also get some much needed exercise in a country where it is too easy to just not even walk at all. You get to see much more of the city, and it gives you the option to stop when and where you want and look around.

I looked around for what I wanted. I good bike that looks like something the locals would own. A set of narrow handlebars for weaving though the traffic, not too heavy, and lastly a good set of tires that won’t puncture easily.

But where do you buy something? Sure, there are places that will sell you a brand spanking new one for hundreds and hundreds of dollars, but this option wasn’t for me. I had not seen any shops while looking around the city. The answer came while catching a taxi back from Ocean supermarket near Tamwe. The taxi driver was one of those rare individuals that quoted the correct fare straight up. Most of the time you have to haggle a bit, then you get the right fare. This guy seemed honest. On the journey home I brought up the subject of where to buy a bicycle. He said there was some places downtown, but the best place was in the bicycle compound out by the airport. This is a place where they refurbish bikes and have good new bikes as well. I arranged to for him to pick me up the next morning at 8 AM and head on out.

This compound is well known to any taxi driver by the way, you don’t have to know the correct address or name.

Eight rolled around and went downstairs from my apartment to find my taxi driver waiting for me. A trip through the light Saturday morning traffic saw us arrive at the compound in short order. It is full of shops dedicated to the selling and repairing of bicycles. It looked like I was in the right place.

I spied what looked to be a good place to start, and the taxi driver insisted on accompanying me. Inside the store it looked like a bike graveyard. There were many old and new bikes in various states of repair. The walls had parts hanging from them. Everywhere you looked there were boxes of parts. In a way it reminded me of the workshop out the back of old school bicycle shops in New Zealand.

The owner came out to greet me. Unfortunately his English was terrible. But he wants to sell me a bike, I want to buy one. We have an interest in making communication work. He showed me an all aluminium framed mountain bike. He was asking for $200 for it, but not for me. Then I spied a nice looking road model. Japanese components, good frame, 27” wheels and a nice set of new puncture resistant Bridgestone tires. It looked exactly like what I wanted. No basket or lights though. I asked the taxi driver what he wanted, after a brief discussion he said $95. It was a little rich for me and I pulled me “too expensive” face. Then there was a flurry of Myanmar and the taxi driver came back with a better offer. It was $80 with a basket, bell, lock, pump and lights for the bike. Everything I needed. Okay “Ya mey” I’ll take it! They quickly got to work getting my order together.

The taxi driver and I pulled up a couple of plastic stools and chatted. He insisted on staying inside the workshop so he could keep an eye on the mechanics. Fifteen minutes later the bike was ready to go. The taxi driver gave it a once over, checking spokes, brakes and gears before I was allowed to take it for a test drive. It rode beautifully.

Final touches being made to the bike

I paid the cash and we loaded the bike into the back of the taxi. Just a little too far to ride back I thought. Especially as it had been a while since I had been riding about via pedal power! We arrived back at the apartment at about 9:30. Hour and a half and my mission for the day was complete. I asked the driver how much he wanted? “8000 Kyat” came the reply. I slipped him 10000 and told him to keep the change. He tried to refuse the tip, but I simply said “Kyay zu tin bar dey” or thank you so much.

The bike has been a champion, easily cutting down on my commute times to places like the supermarket and for site seeing around the lakes here. It has been a really good buy for me.

Market shopping in Yangon, Myanmar

Being in a new country comes some challenges. One of them is not having skills in the local language.  But you still have to buy goods and services. Such was my day today, waking up in Myanmar with a need to buy tomatoes, onions and a haircut. As I say to my students, trade is a great motivator.

I can source the food part of my requirement from the local supermarket. It being a safe environment with all the prices clearly marked and screen displaying how much you owe in English. But with them asking 8000 Kyat (about $8) a kilo for tomatoes, it was time for me to venture out to the local market and see how I fair. The three phrases I was armed with were:

Dar bey laut ley? Dar=this, bey laut (said with a half a “t” at the end, definitely not a hard sound)=how much, and finally ley=the Myanmar word to indicate you are asking a question.

Zay kyee dey. Zay=price and kyee dey=too big .

Shaw bar own. Shaw is lower and bar own being like please in English. I guess you can say “Zay shaw bar own” but what you want to lower is implied in the conversation.

First up was the hair cut. I had seen a barber close to my apartment and set off on foot to find them. However, where I thought they were is not where they actually are. Looking confused I saw a young lady getting ready to go for a ride on her bicycle.

Mingalabar, a formal greeting came out of my mouth. She smiled and said the same. I mimed a haircut and asked Bey hmar ley? Loosely translated, where is it at? You usually say the thing at the start of the sentence, but hey, I thought my mime would work pretty well. She laugh and pointed about 100 meters up the street on the other side of the road. Boy, I can’t see for looking I thought, laughed and thanked her and headed off to get a haircut.

The store, now being easy to find, had all their prices in Myanmar. Again, miming and basic phrases carried the day and my hair was cut for the princely sum of 1000 Kyat ($1). The man cutting my hair and I tried to carry on a conversation, but with my Myanmar being so weak and his English being very poor, it was difficult. We did share a few laughs about things though. I am guessing that a haircut is a social experience and I need to improve my language skills.

Having gained a little bit of confidence from the barber the next stop was a quick walk to the market. Surely even with my poor language skills I could get a better price than 8000 Kyat for a kilo of tomatoes. The market is about another 100 meters or so walk, but it is hot at the moment all over South East Asia. What I found was a typical wet market setup. Easy I thought, I have done this before.

Wandering around the stalls for one that looked appealing, I soon stumbled across a nice looking fruit and vegetable stand. I observed what was happening, people asking for the price of things, haggling, agreeing and it all being in good fun. It is one of the things I like about SE Asia, the market can be a fun place to go. But you have to go in with the right attitude. My beginner phrases seemed to match up with what was being said, and I adjusted my pronunciation to match theirs. I would have been only slightly off, but Myanmar is tonal, so sometimes a miss is as good as a mile!

I found my tomatoes, pointed and asked “Dar bey laut ley?”  A question came shooting back quickly; I didn’t understand the words but thought if I was her, what would I be asking? Quickly it dawn on me, I didn’t specify how much I wanted! “Ti (one) kilo dey” came my reply. “900 Kyat” she said. I knew I was on a win, down from 8000 Kyat at the supermarket. You have to remember anywhere in SE Asia that the first quoted price is to leave you and seller negotiation room. You are expected to haggle. But always remember they want to sell, you want to buy, you are just arguing over price. And the end result is meant to be a win for both parties. I pulled a face and said “Oiy! Zay Kyee dey!”. Haggling is as much about theatre as it is about your skill to get the best price. She laughed and reduced the price down to 700 Kyat. “Yu mey” I said. I’ll take them being the loose translation.

I quickly ran through a few other items I needed like onions and lettuce, smiling and joking a little bit through mime. Haggling was now not important, because we had broken the ice with the tomato negotiations. This had set the markup she and I were happy with. I paid a really reasonable price for my stuff and went to head off. Ah, damn, forgot one more thing. Chilies! I point to the bowl of chilies and she scooped up a handful, put them in a bag and said in English “Present”. “Kyay zu tin bar dey” came my reply, or thank you. Always pays to be polite, always smile and treat it as a social experience.  

The point of the exercise was, trade is a powerful motivator. In a market both the buyer and seller want to come to an agreement, so you can excuse slight imperfection in language skills. Always have a point of reference for the price of something and remember the first price is the starting point. 

Travelling from Battambang through Poipet to Bangkok

Well, I am moving countries again. Needing a visa for Myanmar, after a little research, Bangkok seemed to pop up as the easiest way to get one. But how to get from Battambang to Bangkok. Travel to Siem Reap and fly? Why do things the normal way? After all, life is about the journey.

The planned route I decided on was Battambang via Bus to the Poipet border. Cross over to Aranyapretet (or broken down to be able to say it better Aranya Pretet). Then tuk tuk to the Aranyapretet Railway Station for the afternoon departure of the train bound for Hua Lamphong railway station in Bangkok for a mere 48 Baht.

Sounds easy right? Well, yes and no. I purchased a ticket for the Sunday morning bus from one of the few companies that actually advertise that there bus goes to the border. Kampuchea Angkor Express Co. if you are interest. An early morning departure at 7 am giving me plenty of time to waste at the train station at Aranyapretet, all for the princely sum of $5. Conventional wisdom would probably tell you to take a taxi to the border, but hey, that hardly makes for an interesting story.

With my bags packed the night before I arrived at the bus station with a good 15 minutes to spare. But, Cambodian buses seldom run to schedule. I was told that it would not be departing to 8:30 am. Doing a quick calculation in my head, I was still safe for the train through to Bangkok. So we sat down and waited while drinking coffee.

Boredom set in waiting for the bus

But, you really can't take the word of the people in the ticketing offices. They don't really know what is going on. 8:30 came and went with no bus. Two tuk tuks arrived to ferry us to a new bus station for some more waiting. This one located outside of Battambang near a small supermarket called jokingly the night market.

Finally our bus arrived, but by this time is was 9:15 am, which I am still working out, well if the border crossing is quick then I will still be in luck. Climbing aboard the bus I discovered it was the sleeper variety, but with no allocated beds. You just simply climb in next to whoever is there. Oh well, I have done worse in the past.

View inside the bus

Finally, we are on the road, it is 9:30 am and I am leaving Battambang about 2 1/2 hours late! I was planning to be almost at Poipet by now! Realizing there is nothing to do but consider a Plan B for the Thai side of the border.

About an hour into my trip problems start again. This time in the form of the bus hitting a car. This caused another hour of delays, as the traffic police were called and people argued over who is at fault and who will pay. It was only a slight shunt in the bus but the car looked a bit of a mess afterwards.

Damage to the bus

Damage to the car

Arrrgh! Now my plan is falling apart more than just a little bit. Oh well, we will just have to see how this pans out. I may still get to the station on time.

The damaged bus finally made it to the Poipet border at 12:15. Quick border crossing I am thinking and this may still work. Grabbing my bags and making a dash for departures ummmm errrr shack. I wish the Cambodian would get there act together on their side of the border.

My departure card filled in and the minutes are ticking by. I keep glancing at my watch as I haul my 30+ kg suitcase that contain all that I will need for the immediate future down the road under the welcome arch.

A small map of the border for those that aren't familiar with it

Sailing though customs, the sun beating down on me on a clear 38 degree Celsius day, I hurry to find the Thai immigration building. I quickly fill in the arrival card and go to locate my next challenge, this day being particular good at putting them before me.

Finally my final hurdle. A flight of stair and about 10 minutes before the train leaves. I can do this!

All foreign visitors must haul there luggage up these babies!

I grab the my stuff and wrestle it up the stairs. This is no time for dawdling! A race up the steps only to find the immigration hall quite crowded. Oh well, I have finally admitted defeat on catching the train. Plan B time, a bus or minivan through to Bangkok.

After slowly making my way through Immigration I secure my minibus through to Bangkok and that is were all the problems end. As per usual, the Cambodian part of the journey is always the problem part of the journey. Once you arrive in the ''Land of Smiles'' you are not only in another country, you are in another universe. A one with things that are organised, reliable and cost effective.