The Ferry to Dala
Another interesting sightseeing ride if you are so happen to be in Yangon besides the circular train, is taking the ferry across the Yangon River to the small town of Dala, where the tragic cyclone Nargis had its fierce tantrum a few years back. And that’s exactly what we did after we disembarked from the train (and lunch, of course).
Yangon’s afternoon was unbearably hot; fatigue and sleepiness started to crawl in especially after a heavy lunch of briyani. Although the distance not that far, we were too tired to walk, so we hailed a cab and asked for Pansodan Jetty. We were dispatched in front of the Myanmar Port Authority building somewhere at the Strand Road, 15 minutes later.
We walked to the jetty terminal and were ushered to a room upon asking for the ticket booth. It was a small room; furnished only with seemingly empty office desk and a chair, sat by a guy in mid 40′s with friendly smile. Standing beside him were two young boys, not more than 16. The two boys greeted us in fluent English, of which we later learned the trishaw riders of Dala. The guy was actually the jetty in-charge officer, as he began asking our purpose to Dala, jotted down our names and passport numbers in his register before issuing return tickets at USD1 one way. Definitely locals are charged way lesser than us, but we didn’t argue. Although a bit expansive as compared to the 3 hours journey by train, it is still among the cheapest rides that we had took all over South East Asia.
As soon as I handed over the fare to the officer, the two boys sticked like a glue and pushing us into using their services. They quoted USD4 per person for an hour ride around town, which to me is quite cheap considering the hard labour and the hot weather. However, the thought of riding shadeless rickshaw under the unforgiving sun wasn’t so appealing - so we politely refused the offer. I felt guilty when seeing their frustrated face, knowing how much they need the money and regretted the decision myself. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t seem interested at that point time, perhaps the extreme heat and headache finally taking their tolls on me. Or maybe, it was just a counter-reaction as I don’t like being pushed. To ease my conscience I made a promise to myself to properly visit Dala if I so happen find myself in Yangon again.
While we were busy dodging the pesters from the two young boys (and a few others for a bunch of postcards), our ride had arrived at the dock and was about to leave. We hurried to the gangplank with several others and made it to the ferry in time. It was my umpteenth experience boarding a ferry, although it was my first in Yangon, after 18 years. I vaguely remembered the time when I took my first ferry ride across the Straits of Malacca from Butterworth to Penang.
Inside the ferry. It was a bit smaller to the one that I ride in Penang years ago, which transporting vehicles at his lower deck instead of people. This one serves only the people, granting allowance of small rides such as the bicycles. At corners there were food peddlers setting up their mobile-stall selling food to the daily commuters.
We went upstairs where it was less crowded and found that all the seats were already taken. Together with the locals we conveniently grabbed some small plastic chairs that scattered around, and chose to sit by the metal barricade for a better view outside.
We waited few minutes for everybody to get in, and the ferry was fairly loaded by the time everyone was aboard. Like the circular train, locals use the ferry to commute between Yangon and Dala, where most of them lived.
One of the ferryman patiently waited at the berth for everybody to get in before releasing the mooring rope from the rusty bitts.
Locals boarding the ferry.
Ahoy! The ferry slowly leaved the Pansodan Jetty and plied the murky river of Yangon. At the far left is the Yangon River Port, a vital entry point for business and commerce in Myanmar that welcomes trade and cruise vessels coming from the Andaman Sea. Connected to the famous Irrawady River on the upper north via the Twante Canal, one can get as far as Mandalay in a 5-day trip. Thanks to the Irrawady for providing Myanmar with fertile delta, but the sediments build-up is another concern. Note the dredgers, that are used to excavate the sediments from the bottom of the river and disposing them at another location to make the water channel navigational for larger ships and steemers.
Another type of ferry that is used to transport freight and vehicles.
The view of Yangon city from the river. Back in the 6th century, Yangon was only a small fishing village, slowly transformed itself into Burma trade and commercial center after years of wars and conquering by the British Empire. It was made the country’s capital in 1885, until it was relocated to Naypyidaw in 2005 by the Myanmar military junta government.
There’s nothing extra-ordinary with the port and the river; it is wide and the water was cloudy, with anchoring vessels littering the area. Amazingly I found it to be such a peaceful sight. The day was calm and breezy, and occassionally we heard the cry of seagulls accompanying a ferry amidst the sounds of fluits from a far distant ships.
Little we know that a small fee is charged for using the chair that we took earlier, roughly around 10Kyats. That’s about 25cents of our money. Upon reaching the Dala Jetty, suddenly we were approached by a man with a weary face, which persuasively asked for “chats”. From his look I was quite certain that he didn’t intent to have a casual conversation with us, and “chats’ sounded more like “Kyats”. The thought that we were being ‘pan-handled’, or worst - mugged by conman to pay extra, we simply ignored the guy albeit his constant nagging. It’s like chicken talking to a duck, and we couldn’t understand what he was saying and he us. This going on for several minutes, attracting attention from the nearby passengers. A guy who sat next to us finally gave him some cash, and later told us that the poor fella was actually asking money for the chair that we sat on. What we thought we heard as “chats” was actually “chairs”, and we laughed our heart out for the misinterpretation. We offered the gentleman to pay him back the money due us, but he refused any of it. We thanked him for his kindness, and continued with our journey.
Crossing was quick, and 20 minutes later we safely landed on Dala terra firma. As soon as the ferry docked we were swept in the stream of passengers leaving the ferry right into the chaotic Dala. We were quite lost for a while, not knowing which way to go. Locals minded their way, some on bikes while others climbing into over-loaded trucks, persistance trishaw riders following us offering a ride, hawkers calling for customers, deafening sounds of honking and people shouting, babies crying et cetera, et cetera. The cacophony was too much, so we walked fast pace to the river side, away from the maddening crowds.
Still dizzy with all the mumbo jumbo, we hung around for a while enjoying the colorful view of oared water taxis berthing at the jetty. A few minutes later the commotion slowly passed, although not totally. The trishaw riders still eyeing us with great interest, and I was contemplating whether to take their offer or not. It was a hot day; we had been walking the whole morning and my feet were burning with pain. All I could think of was a cold shower and a nap on a cozy bed.
We decided to make a move back to the jetty. Coincidentally there was a ferry to Yangon, and without much ado we jumped on. After all my watch was already showing 4.00pm, and the last ferry was at five. I wouldn’t want to risk missing it just for a cruise around Dala. Not that I mind, given more days in Burma.
Scene at the jetty – some hawkers and trishaw riders loitering on the ramp, waiting for potential customers.
A hawker under a makeshift umbrella, selling munchies at the jetty.
More of Dala as we took off.
Fisherman boats at a village in Dala.
Learning from our previous mistake, we decided to stand all the way back to the Pansodan Jetty. This time we headed to the front deck, and leaned against the wooden wall. Being at the front deck was undeniably way better than slouching in that small plastic chair. Without the metal barricade blocking our sight, we got the whole river and sky uniterrupted. A flock of seagulls flipping around us happily, escourting the whole journey back. With the view and all, the ferry makes a great place for a romantic rendevous. Replicating Kate Winslet and Leornado DiCaprio moment on the front deck of Titanic was unavoidable. Surely the lovey-dovey couple next to us would agree, although I wasn’t sure whether they ever watch the movie.
One of the seagull that tagged along.
Big ships plying the Yangon River, overshadowed by the small fishing boat. The seagulls like it better too.
We said our goodbye to Dala, and enjoyed our fine afternoon on the ferry. Soon we found ourselves dropped back to the reality of the bustling streets of Yangon, and a couple hours later into the comfort of our room.
