Day three had me stumbling out of the night bus at four in the morning and into the clamour of waiting taxi drivers at the Bagan highway bus station on the outskirts of town. The Burmese plains get cold in winter and I was still in t-shirt and shorts, breathing steam in the dark. I had no hotel booking and only a rudimentary knowledge of where the place I had marked down on my map was located. I took the first offer of a taxi that came to me, even though I knew i...

Woke up at midday, check-out time. s***. Cursed myself for laziness and not setting an alarm. Missed the free breakfast as well. I hurriedly jammed all my s*** back into my backpack and left it at reception. Went out into the heat of the day to find some breakfast. Some backpackers were at a stand that was selling something like pancakes. "What's that?" I said to them, looking down over their shoulder. "Coconut pancakes. They're delicious." So I got some of the...

I flew into paper-dry Yangon around midday. Coming in to land, I could see the circular train wind its plodding way around the city like a toy. I had all the hotel, bus, flight, and money details already transcribed down onto a single piece of paper that would travel in my pocket for the length of the journey. A measly five days over Tet. The e-visa was a (fifty dollar) piece of cake. At arrivals the hotel driver was holding up a sign that said "Toyne Ephroms"....

My trusty Honda Cub ran out of fuel again tonight. That's four times now. Four times in the last four weeks or less since I got the thing. It's not the bike's fault, of course. Sure, it doesn't help any that there's no fuel gage. Or that anybody can just come along, lift the seat, unscrew the cap (the tank is conveniently located under the seat) and siphon away at their leisure. But back to the story. (It's not very exciting, sorry). Before my tank is about to ...

Phonsavan, a dusty, one-street kind of town, is the base for exploring the Plain of Jars, a hilly valley area dotted with clusters of ancient stone jars dating back some 700+ years and not-so-ancient B-52 craters dating back to the cold war era. Phonsavan, and the Plain of Jars in general, seemed to be in the midst of a nasty cold snap. Come nightfall I was freezing my cahoonies off. I took a whizz and there was so much steam you'd think a hot shower had sprung ...