Bus stories 5 – Travelling by minibus in Myanmar - You just have to know!
- lisaluger
- Aug 4, 2022
- 6 min read
Updated: Jun 10, 2023
-A Bus ride from Taunggyi to Nah Pyi Taw, Myanmar, April 2018-
My husband and I were returning from Taunggyi to Nay Pyi Taw. After a few day’s holidays over Easter at Inle Lake, we wanted to return to the capital of Myanmar by minibus, as I had to be back at my job as a volunteer at the Ministry of Health the following day. The journey should not take more than 8 hours if all goes well.
Travelling in a foreign country is sometimes complicated, especially when you don’t understand the language. However, many things are more manageable if you know certain aspects of customs and traditions. This, of course, is also the case in Myanmar. Travelling by minibus in Myanmar, you just had to know.
You have to know that about 14 people sit crammed together in a Myanmar minibus like sardines. There is hardly any room for the feet, at least not enough for long-legged Europeans like us. Therefore, we deliberately booked our seats five days in advance to ensure we got seats that offered reasonably enough space for our long legs. This was smart of us, and we felt up to the challenges of the bus journey.
However, when the bus arrived at our stop, our seats were taken. A frail elderly lady who, in retrospect, was probably around 60 years old, hence younger than us, and her companion of the same age had taken our seats. When the bewilderment of the first moment had passed, we looked around for alternatives. After all, one is a guest in this country and does not want to appear self-righteous and rude! But the only two seats left were in the elevated last row above the tyres, where there was even less room for our long legs. We could not spend the 8-hour journey with our knees up to our chins. So we insisted on taking the seats we had booked.
But although we showed her our tickets, the little old lady didn’t budge. She simply ignored us. Eventually, we had to call the bus driver to get our rights. When he threw his authority into the balance, the little old lady and her companion reluctantly moved to the back.
The other passengers seemed to be discussing the matter at length among themselves. We did not understand the language, but the expression on some people’s faces showed displeasure. Others seemed to sympathise with us or didn’t care. But we felt uncomfortable anyway because we had demanded our rights with so much emphasis.
Now again, one must know that such displeasure does not last long. A little later, the interest in us and our bad behaviour disappeared. We calmed our bad conscience, and so we rocked through the landscape in harmony – happy to be able to move our legs at least from time to time.
Drive through a wonderful landscape in Myanmar
While we drove along well-paved roads and attentively watched the passing villages and landscapes, the woman behind us shouted nonstop into her mobile phone. Obviously, there was cause for intense anger, and the longer she ranted and raved, the louder she became. Like the other passengers, we resigned ourselves to our fate and tried to ignore her. If only we had brought our earplugs. That’s just something you have to know.
Shortly after we turned off the well-built road onto a dirt track with many potholes, the belligerent lady broke off her loud argument. Before we could enjoy the peace that had returned, we heard suspicious noises behind us. Our angry fellow traveller had become nauseous and was vomiting.
This was not surprising for us, as one must know that this happens quite often on bus trips. However, for some unknown reason, in Myanmar, more passengers than usual seem to suffer from motion sickness. Therefore, the passengers who know this are always well prepared and carry a plastic bag just in case. Others have other strategies. For example, the lovely lady next to me dabbed her nose and forehead with Olbas oil from a small bottle from time to time during the journey, and she survived the trip reasonably well.
I don’t usually suffer from motion sickness, but I don’t want to put unnecessary strain on my stomach on long journeys. That’s why I don’t eat much; I only nibble on dry biscuits when I do. It’s a mystery why many people eat heavy, greasy food during breaks in truck stop restaurants that tastes good but lingers in your stomach for ages. If the bus then drives a route full of curves, ups and downs, the stomach quickly starts to rebel.
That’s what seemed to have happened to our noisy fellow passenger. Then, when her stomach had calmed down again, she fell asleep exhausted and snored loudly to herself while the full plastic bag tied at the top dangled from her finger in the rhythm of the potholes until the next stop.
So a bus ride in Myanmar is definitely a strategic challenge. You have to know not only how to keep food down but also what and how much to eat. A few biscuits instead of sumptuous food is a good idea.
How much you drink is strategically important, too. The rides are long, and there are few breaks, usually every 3 to 4 hours, for a toilet visit and refreshments. So, balancing not getting dehydrated in 50-degree heat on a bus without air conditioning and keeping your bladder in check for three or four hours is an art.
Workers in a rice field near the road
Our little minibus did have air conditioning, but, s is often the case, its weak cooling effect did not extend beyond the driver’s seat. So the passengers had to open the windows to get some air into the passenger compartment.
Again, one must know that air is not the only thing that gets inside the vehicle while driving.
Such a bus journey usually takes 6 to 10, sometimes 14 hours, depending on the route and road conditions. Moreover, drivers are expected to drive alone without a substitute driver with whom they can take turns. This is exhausting.
Therefore, most drivers in many South Asian countries, whether bus, truck or taxi drivers, turn to an amphetamine-like remedy called betel quid. This is a mixture of betel nuts, tobacco, spices and a paste of slaked lime wrapped in strips of betel leaf. This mixture is chewed for hours. Some do it to stay awake, others just like the taste.
Betel chewing is common in Myanmar and neighbouring countries and is enjoyed mainly by men and older women. Chewing fills the mouth with saliva, making conversation almost impossible. When the mouth is too full, the red saliva is spat out onto the street in a splash.
In first-class air-conditioned buses, the drivers and other betel nut lovers spit into a small plastic bag they carry for this reason. In minibuses, however, the driver spits out of the window.
And this is what you need to know because it is advisable to keep a close eye on the driver. Because when the passengers behind the driver see his cheeks puff out like a frog’s and he leans his head out of the window, the whole row behind the driver’s seat automatically leans to the side, ducks and holds a cloth in front of their faces to avoid the red droplet shower. We learned quickly and joined in this choreography without complaint. You just have to know!
Sometimes, however, knowledge is of no use. Then you have to accept what is happening with composure. Once I had to take a motorbike taxi at night to get home. The driver was very talkative, although his mouth was full of betel nut saliva. I sat behind him on the motorbike and felt a spray wetting me throughout the ride. There was no escape! At home, my reflection in the mirror looked as if I, including my glasses, had suffered a violent measles outbreak. I don’t remember it fondly. Of course, I could have hidden behind the driver’s back to avoid the red spray, but I still had to keep an eye on whether he was taking the correct route.
On this bus ride, I also observed the driver’s driving skills. I admired how he steered the bus over the sometimes very narrow roads where the rain had washed away parts of the road, past deep drops, and how he confidently took one tight curve after another for hours. I went to him when we stopped for our comfort break after 4 hours. He saw me coming and stiffened, perhaps expecting a complaint from the strange white woman who had so firmly demanded her seat earlier. It almost looked as if he wanted to hide from me. But I did not complain, of course, but complimented him on his driving skills and thanked him for driving us so safely. We had few words at our disposal, but sign language made up for the lack. He understood, and a broad smile exposed teeth stained red from chewing betel. (LL)
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