Chai and Chew-Chew (# 4 in series)

Trekkers talking at Mr. Charles Guesthouse in Hsipaw, Myanmar

One of the advantages of being a budget traveler is that I've had to stay in hostels and guesthouses to get by, often in dorm rooms with so-called strangers.  I call this an advantage because it has allowed me to meet and know other travelers better than if I were in a nicely appointed room by myself.

Hostels, in particular, have community kitchens or lounges where residents gather for meals, sharing of information, socializing, etc.  Out of this, I often hook up and travel with some of them for days or weeks at a time.

Up in the Shan Highlands, for instance, I teamed up with a thirty-something Korean woman named Jaeeun.  In excellent physical shape, with a great spirit of adventure, she pooled resources with me in finding places to stay, sights to visit, etc.

 Jaeeun, squinting into a shot on the Goteik Viaduct.

The view from the terrace at Garden Hotel.

We took that memorable train ride together, then stayed in the dorm of the Garden Hotel in Mandalay.  We were berthed top floor, seven stories up, where pigeons cooing on the ledge outside made for a soothing way to drift off to sleep. There we added a third member to our "team," a girl from China named Yan.

Only twenty, Yan was touring S.E. Asia and had been studying American language and culture.  To my amazement, she'd press a few buttons on her device and sing along in Chinese to 500 Miles, the folk song from the Sixties.

What cracked me up, she'd do the same for Auld Lang Syne, which for some reason is popular with many Asians and has nothing to do there with New Year's.  (On previous trips to the region, I've heard people in various countries intone similarly as well.)

One day the team set out walking to visit the royal palace in Mandalay.  With her distinctive twist on English, Yan referred to this as "King place...We go king place."

Eating, which these two women seemed to do every few hours, was signaled by a closing motion of the fingers, like pinching together of chopsticks, accompanied by the words "chew-chew...chew-chew."

Some "chew-chew."

All in all, Myanmar food was not that delectable, I didn't think, compared to Thailand or Malaysia anyhow.  However, it was unusual and made for interesting travel.  So here now I'll do my best Anthony Bourdain imitation, without the alcohol.  Or at least give it a go.

A lot of the food, especially the side dishes, is pickled, fermented,  heavily salted or spiced (hot!) or deep-fried.  Quite honestly, many times it didn't look or smell that appealing.

And you had to be careful -- if you spooned on the condiments you could be retching and hiccuping violently in short order -- the chilies, fiery sauces, etc. can be such a shock to the system.  A few times I recoiled like I had just touched off a 30-06.  Someone with a weak heart could keel over.  No exaggeration.  I learned early on, experiment there yes, but cautiously, cautiously.

As for the picture below, how would you go about attacking this, a traditional dinner?  I had to get help from the waitress.  I mean, where do you even start?

Traditional Burmese dinner, 2000 Kyats ($1.55 U.S.)

First off, the potato soup on the right, I was told.  Second, the roast duck on the left, which I heaped onto the rice followed by the green vegetables from the plate at top.  Then it really got adventurous as I went around pulling the tops off those metal bowls...

How does boiled fish paste sound?  Or fried fish paste or fish paste curry? Mango chutney, mariam chutney, and more?  Nine such offerings all told, with each one making me cringe more than the previous.  Really, you should smell this stuff!

Dessert was all right though:  coconut jaggeries, coffee candy, tamarind balls ("Watch the pit," my adviser warned) served in three different bowls.  I sampled each and was struck at how distinctive were the tastes.  A great contrast in sweetness-es to the meal itself.

  

She holds a quail egg, a popular snack.

Lots of cattle here, providing meat, milk, etc.  These are in Bagan, the templed city.

Shan noodle soup, 1,000 Kyat (75 cents U.S.)

I came to the conclusion that cleanliness standards were poor at many of the eateries.  At the guesthouses more trekkers than usual were bolting for toilets, hallways echoing with the sounds of barfing soon after.  One guy had to cut short his trip because his system couldn't shake the food poisoning.

For this reason, I avoided most street food and did my own restaurant "inspections."   In other words, I'd go into the kitchens and check out the facilities myself.  (I told the staff that I liked to meet the cook beforehand, that it was a habit of mine.)

Shan noodle soup became my staple.  It was tasty, always bubbling on-stove, and generally not the type of thing that'd make you sick.  I practically lived on the stuff.

When I found a place up to my standards, it went on the approved list and I used it frequently thereafter.  This cut down on the variety of the culinary experience, but allowed me to make it three-plus weeks with only mild intestinal distress.

Mint chicken at Super Wonder Bowl in Yangon -- an approved facility.

Coconut noodle soup with two types of tea in Hpa-An -- approved as well.

India food from street vendor -- not approved.

Concerning the teas shown above:  The blackish one is regular tea, served along with most meals. The milky brown one is chai or what is called "chai tea" at many shops and supermarkets in the U.S.

"Chai tea" makes the Burmese chuckle as chai (pronounced "cha") means tea all by itself in these parts.  So it's a little like saying, hey, gimme some of that H2O water over there.  Or, how about some of that steak red meat? 

For those that don't know, chai is regular tea with milk added and gussied up with cinnamon and other spices.  Quite delicious.  It's a morning ritual for many in Myanmar, and it soon became one for me.

My morning picker-upper...with deep fried pastry in background.

It's usually made with cow's milk, but some I had up in the Shan Highlands was unusually thick.  Come to find out that it was made with the milk of water buffaloes!  This was an education in itself as I didn't even know that you could milk them.

Back in my farming days in Penna., I used to get kicked every so often while milking cows.  Judging from the size of the hooves on these critters, not to mention the horns, this is one activity that I won't be engaging in here.

[PART FIVE TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEKEND]