SIMPLY (t)RAVELLING

A Fishy Story in Yangon

 

Traipsing around some fresh fish, vegetables, fruits and flowers, which interspersed along the narrow, crowded alley and in dark, dilapidated building was how we spent our first morning in Yangon. In fact, we were the only strangers there amongst the many longyi clads and thanaka smeared faces. We were early, but the market was already bustling with patrons looking for fresh meat and veggies, and the place was lively with loud, melodious call for customers by the boisterous vendors, people chit chatting at the nearby coffee shop and buyers transacting at one corner. It was noisy and full of colors.

 

DH at the entrance of the market.

 

Man selling banana fritters at the market.

 

Road side stall serving local pancakes for breakfast, with the traditional baking style. The flour mixtures were spread into the frying pan on a hot stove, and then covered with embers on top of it to ensure that it is cooked evenly. It reminds me the making of the traditional Malay cake of Bahulu, during the old days.

 

Woman selling flowers at the market, usually used as offerings at temples and shrines.

 

A lady at the market selling the sweet traditional cake of Htamanè, a seasonal festive savory in Myanmar. Made of glutinous rice cooked with sesame seeds, ground nuts and coconut oil which are then mixed in a pot using a large spatula. The cooking is something like Malaysian dodol.

 

 

A monk doing his early morning alms round.

 

Thanaka cheeked smile at the market. Thanaka, a yellowish paste made of ground bark applied on the face as an effective sun blocks and to prevent acne. I remember my late grandmother used to make a white powdery paste from rice to be put to the face for the same cooling effect.

 

A girl minding the flower stall at a market downtown Yangon. 

 

A pile of bamboo weaved boxes. Wonder what’s inside.

 

These are what inside the neatly crafted boxes. Strawberries! My guessed they come all the way from the north, as it is much cooler there. The strawberries looked rather wilted though, due to the change of climate.

 

What else to do in a market for DH, except sampling and collecting dried shrimps which usually ended up in flour fritters back at home. By the way, the guy who minds the shop (the one smiling in the photo) used to work in Malaysia few years back - in Balakong if I’m not mistaken, and he’s glad to assists us in simple Malay language.

 

Yangon Hot Dogs. Pork to be precise.

 

This one looks familiar though. Pulut Panggang in Yangon? 

 

A patron having a quick sniff of lime – to distingush the young from the ripe and the watery.

 

Burma is indeed photographer friendly.

 

A lovely rose among the flowers. She looks more of a Vietnamese to me. Off course, thanaka is the beauty secret.

 

A familar smells lured me to the nearby stall. I was not surprised to see freshly hot and crispy Yau Char Kue, a Chinese crullers simply known as ‘cakoi‘ in Malaysia being fried, after seeing so many familiar food the night before. With only two plain breads we had for breakfast, the smell and the look of it really made me hungry again.

 

Err…on second thought, thanks but no, thanks. The locals found the view adds up to the appetite nonetheless.

 

We drifted into the dark building made of zinc at the end of the path, more of an old warehouse actually; which houses the wet section of the market. It was dimmed and damped inside, lit only by a few flourescent bulbs. Weak streaks of sunrays that permeated through the opening and the yellowish windows illuminate the inside with a dreamy and eerie effects. It was a bit quiet in the building though, only to be intermittently disturbed by some chopping sounds. Vendors waiting for customers in the dark, and some of the lot were unoccupied. Life was like frozen in time.

 

 Halal beef by a muslim lady.

 

 Another muslim vendor selling fresh mutton.

 

 Some scenes inside the wet market section.

 

Trading cat, are they now? such a cute little fella. “I like this cozy basket ’coz it fits me nicely, and the color suits with my dark brown eyes, so I think I would be sitting here to chill out for a while”  that’s what she said, more or less. I think.

 

 After taking some photos we leave the dark and gloomy building and found ourselves in the back alley.

 

We loitered a while at the market enjoying the mild hustle and bustle before walking back to the main road. Spotted a vendor selling the red, mouth-watering wax apple on shoulder poles; they looked tempting, but considering that most of the crops in Burma are fertilized by garbage-infested water, I closed my eyes and walked past them. 

 

I was actually trying to photograph the lady but his son spontaneously appeared from the back, with unabashed smile. What I like about Burmese is that they won’t bother if you take their photos (but off course out of courtesy I will ask permission whenever I’m taking a close-up) and won’t stop for a pose (unless you asked) – which is great for me and my pictures cause they are all ended up looking so refreshingly natural.

 

Roadside vendors selling fresh fish, prawns and chicken in a street downtown Yangon. 

 

A kid playing with bubbles kept in small plastic bag, while waiting for his mommy doing the groceries. So adorable, he reminded me a lot of my son back at home.