Night life is Myanmar
is essentially non-existent: ten days into our trip and aside from
falling down drains nothing exciting had happened to us after dark. Please don't get me wrong it is a beautiful country, one of the
best places I've ever visited, but if you're looking for a wild time
(or even a mildly thrilling one) don't come here.
The one exception to this was an evening spent at Inle Lake.
Me and my two travel
buddies headed out to a restaurant for dinner, a little local place
above a clothing shop. We ascended the staircase, dimly aware of some commotion above us, and no sooner had we
emerged than we were invited to join a group of - predominantly Irish - guys already several bottles deep.
It turns out that
bottles of whiskey (served by the restaurant!) were about 90p a pop :
to put that in perspective that is roughly the same as two cans of
coke.
Needless to say the
evening became very exciting very quickly, and our plans for a meal
rapidly dilapidated into a liquid dinner. The lads invited everyone
who appeared to join the table and before long we were a huge group: Spaniards, French, Americans, Scandinavians: very continental!
We were having an extremely jolly time, things beginning to get a wee bit messy (and it was only
8pm) … when suddenly, from nowhere, some club bangers start playing.
We were shocked: Could
this be nightlife in Myanmar?
No. Well not the
nightlife that we expected anyway. It turned out that the music was
coming from the roller disco across the road.
Immediately the lads
were well up for it.
OK, I said, I'm game.
Now I have never roller
bladed in my life, no thats not quite true, once when I was about six
years old I got given a pair of plastic roller blades, fell over
instantly and never used them again.
But I was being bold
and adventurous … and all the fellas were doing it ...
I laced myself in,
stood up, and the fear was immediate: I can't stand in these: why did
I think I would be able to stand in these? Why did I think that this was a good idea? Have I even met me?
Of course I couldn't
stay on my feet for more than seven seconds, much to the hilarity of
the throng of local onlookers that ringed the side of the rink. The
crowd pressed thick around the edges, we were the only westerners on
skates, me the only western woman. They cheered me on, laughing – I
will only assume with me, not at me – as I gracelessly tumbled
around the rink, like a baby giraffe …. on roller blades.
I was down far more
than I was up, but I had the best time, it was hilarious and the
whiskey definitely helped to mask any bruises, till tomorrow at least. I was
however confused: why was no one else was falling as much as me?
It was only afterwards
that I found out that the lads all had previous roller blade
experience.
'I haven't roller
bladed for a good year now …'
'I used to go every
weekend'
I mean what on earth!
No one told me I was the only novice! I was lured into this.
Even so it was still a
great night in Myanmar soaking in the local culture, soaked in the local
spirit…
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