I arose from my not particularly comfortable niche when it was light, + claimed my seat, then passed the hour or 2 before we arrived finishing my book, then chatting with Nina, an American who had shared a room with Val in Pagan. When we pulled in to Rangoon stn, I had faint sentimental longings that she wold be waiting for me on the platform, as I had been wont to do in Paddington. She wasn’t, of course, + we all retired to the YMCA together. No letter for me there from Val, so presumably she hadn’t yet returned. I joined the others for breakfast, during which someone came up with the good idea of hiring a room for the day, in which we could stow our bags, + from which we could legitimately take showers. There were 6 of us – split that way, it cost barely a pittance. I wrote a note for Val telling her where I was, washed the dirt from my body under the shower, + walked down to the Post Office + Tourist Burma. I was rather worried about how Val would be returning (+, even more important, when) so made enquiries about flights back from Inle. The news was slightly reassuring, for there was a flight back at around lunch-time.
My worries were soon put to rest, however, for shortly after my return, there was a knock on the door of our room, + in walked Val, looking grubby but healthy. Our reunion was made most awkward by the presence of others, our conversation stilted, but I at least was able to discover why Val was late. In company with a few others, she had just missed last night’s train, had been sitting at a level crossing as we had chugged slowly past. Had I known, I’d have given her a wave… or pulled her aboard.
She had, I noted, gone even more mad on the shopping front than I had, with a large + bulky lacquerware picnic set, plus matching cups + plates. We weren’t able to be alone to talk + chat for more than a couple of minutes, walking down the stairs to the canteen – we couldn’t even go out for a walk, as Rangoon was once again greeting us with a violent downpour. We were, however, able to say that we had missed one another, + that broke the ice.
Because of the rain, + because we had letters to write, we were imprisoned in the YMCA for the rest of the day. This was, however, a mistake, as we wanted to buy a monk’s umbrella – attractive + useful. By the time we ventured out, the shop was shut. The only thing that happened on our walk was that Val slipped over on the muddy pavement, + nearly slid head-first into a manhole. The only damage sustained, fortunately, was mud on her skirt, which she was able to wash off.
A man had been wandering around the canteen all day, trying to get names on various lists for taxis out to the airport, but when the time came we all went outside + piled into one small truck, destroying all his carefully-made plans. I was annoyed, however, when a couple of the travellers were laying plans to run off without paying at the other end – just the sort of behaviour to alienate public goodwill for travellers in general. Not that I’m in any position to act high + mighty, morally.
Having some money left over, not having been able to buy the umbrella, + not seeing anything in the airport to spend it on, I decided to risk trying to turn it back into dollars at the exchange counter. My heart sank, however, when, having accepted the money + my doctored currency exchange form, he sent an assistant to fetch a large ledger from a filing cabinet. If I could have sunk thro’ the floor, I would have. If I could have grabbed my form back and ran, I would have. I could do neither, but stand + redden + wait the inevitable. He seemed to take an age to pore over the columns of figures before eventually finding the one he was looking for. But even I, on the other side of the counter, could see that it said $10. He looked from that to the $110 registered on my form, got the message, + looked up at me sternly. “Why have you changed the figure to $110?” he asked. What could I say? Nothing, of course, tho’ some sort of reply was demanded. I opted for denial. “I didn’t change anything,” I asserted lamely. The elderly cashier treated that remark as it deserved to be treated, + ignored it. Instead he pushed back the notes + form towards me, saying, more in sorrow than anger, “You cannot change your money.”
I walked away, red-faced, relieved of course that no armed guard had been called over to take me into custody, that, so far as I knew, my guilty secret was being kept just that between the 2 of us, but I also felt mean, petty, small-minded, like being found out cheating at school.
As we were checking our bags in, Val + I became separated, (I was deliberately trying to keep some distance between us in case the cashier should decide after all to take further action, + decide to investigate my companion’s finances as well. But by the time I had finished, she had disappeared, so, having discovered after all that there was a bar, I went to see if she was there. She wasn’t, so I bought a beer, + went off in further search. I couldn’t see her anywhere, however, so returned to the bar. Mark, Dominique, Nina, + a couple of others were there. I had 41k left, beers were 10 apiece, so I had to knock back 4 in the short time allotted to us. I managed it, however, without too much difficulty, then joined the others in going thro’ the exit formalities. It was a farce, really, + not worthy of the hours of worry + discussion that had been lavished on it by some of our more nervous fellow-travellers. The currency exchange forms were afforded only the most casual of glances, the customs official who checked I was taking out those valuables I’d brought in didn’t affix the right sticker + disappeared with my form, causing me a minor difficulty… in all, it was shoddy + unprofessional. Not that I’m complaining.
In the departure lounge I found Val, but she was in a dreadful state, + almost immediately burst into tears. I can’t explain it all of course, but I think she’d been feeling under a lot of pressure, + being left behind while I was in the bar was the last straw. Intellectually, she accepted that it was a simple misunderstanding + that there was nothing I could have done; emotionally, she was hurt + angry. For my own part, I have to confess that this reminder of Val’s frailty + dependence upon me, when normally she is the cool + capable rock on which I depend, was not unwelcome.
The plane was late, of course, but at least on this leg of the journey we were fed. Val’s food was inedible, however, old + dried out, but after complaining she did get another. The formalities at Dacca were simply that, our bags were not checked at all. (One official was foolish enough to ask if we had any electronic goods to declare, but was soon shushed by his colleagues; anxious, no doubt, to get home to bed.)
We were first thro’ the gate, + were immediately approached by a young man inviting us to stay at the Blue Nile hotel. Since this was the place we intended to visit anyway, we said sure, will you take us there? At first they said sure, yes, but soon changed their tune, trying to persuade us to take a taxi. So we ignored them + waited for the others. It made things very simple, for as our group gradually reassembled, there were others more than happy to do the negotiating for all of us. Eventually, we all agreed to travel to the Blue Nile by minibus, at a reasonable price. More important, it was easy, for it was now very late. At the hotel, Val + I waited till the end, + by doing so were able to negotiate a single room for the both of us. Into which we fell – a shower, + bed.
My own experience of being on my own had been fine, but not so Val, who had had a pretty miserable, lonely time throughout the week. Which probably accounts for her bursting into tears when we got ourselves separated at the airport; that being the final straw, and all that. So though it had been an interesting experiment, it was not one that we would wish to repeat, being far too reliant upon each other.
