circular train

During daylight hours from platform 7 at Yangon’s architecturally splendid, if dilapidated, railway station, a train leaves half hourly on a three hour round trip through outlying towns and villages.
At ten this morning after paying 1000 kyt ($1) for a ‘foreigners ticket’ I hopped on the clockwise train in a small mint green compartment with scuffed,mint green benches and glassless windows.

All very relaxed for the first hour or so keeping company with a young Myanmar couple and dark eyed, curious baby and assorted betel quid, fried snack, peanut and water sellers who climb on and off at various stops.
The train in reality barely stops so there is a lot of leaping, jumping and ‘minding the gap’ which is hard enough at the best of times but even trickier with a full basket of goodies balanced on your head.
Half way through the journey pandemonium reigns. Huge baskets and bags are stuffed through windows from this market stop and within 30 seconds the carriage is groaning with vegetables, noise and folk chattering, laughing, betel chewing and spitting red juice out the window, eating and propped crosslegged on the bench even sleeping.

The scene is repeated for the next hour as baskets and bags are manoeuvred off the train by slightly built but incredibly strong young men and women to be replaced by yet more bags and baskets.
Now well out of the way and squeezed in a corner beside a red robed monk, he alternately dozes and smiles at a little girl sitting with her mum. She has a captive, and delighted, audience and is singing and pirouetting on a tiny patch of board not piled high with radishes , eggplants, gourds, tomatoes and cauliflowers, coriander, chillies, pennywort, watercress and tamarind leaves.

Back in Yangon and the platform is now scattered with temporary tea shops, woks filled with spinning snacks in sizzling oil and baskets layered with skewers, bowls of noodles, sour plums and pots of salted chilli sugar.
All fuelling the next three hours on the circular train.