As the plane landed in Yangon, I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t get to research this place much and most of what I knew from it I read on the flight over. The first thing that hit me about this place was the poverty. I thought Thailand was poor. This is worse. At least cabs in Thailand have air con. Here, they have open windows. Gas is apparently rationed, so as our cab drove us to the guest house, we stopped by a street stall to get gas funneled in the cab. At our guest house, it was a different story. Fairy luxurious, the May Fair Inn stood out from the surrounding delapitated apartment buildings and warehouses. After checking in, we met a man who has been coming to the same guest house over the past 12 years (and now stays for about 5 months). He told us a bit about how he feels here. Though it was nice to hear from a seasoned vet, I couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t getting a real feel for the place. Like he was more a colonist than a citizen. Regardless, we got great tips from him. Elise was feeling sick, so I wandered the streets of Yangon alone for the first night. On my first time out, I crossed three kids playing a game (think curling with smaller rocks on dirt). I got to join them and before I knew it, I had bet that if they could beat me, I’d buy them food (they wanted money, I figured this was a bit better). Despite my best efforts, they won (I think 7 out of 8 games, but I was starting to turn it around!). One of the recommendations we got from the man in the guest house is not to take the bus North. The journey to our next destination (Inlay Lake) is said to take about 12 hours, but in reality, that tends to be ore like 18 to 19 hours. The roads are bumpy and the seats are small. Heeding that advice, we decided to take a flight up. It’s a bit pricey, but well worth it. I can’t wait to be out of the city (too hot and busy here) and be in the highlands. This place is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Welcome to Myanmar.