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Archive for the ‘George Orwell’ Category

George Orwell was there ( in the Indian Imperial Police a long time ago , and went a bit native… never did find out what those strange blue tattoos meant on his knuckles !) and we have just come back from there (without the tattoos ): Burma or should I say Myanmar..

… an oriental 3D jigsaw of a place , layered and laquered like an intricate tiffin box . A positive riot of smells,and sounds assaulting the senses and catching you unawares, like the lethal pavements where you could plunge up to your oxters in raw sewage as soon as wrick your ankle on the vertiginous extreme levels and gradients.

burma2013 123It’s a tricky one crossing roads in Yangon where the traffic never stills and the utterly laughable zebra crossings are there to decorate the highway rather than offer any semblance of safety.Far better to cling to the shadow of a local and launch midstream into the swirling morass of bicycles , scooters and cars adopting a haphazard weaving technique and selective blindness to the moving hardware bearing down upon you.

Humidity being well up in the uncomfortable levels ,a cup of tea so fits the bill(after cocktails at the Strand Hotel of course)  . On arrival we tentatively sampled an unknown box of leaves found in our hotel room and made a brew. Why did we assume it was a box of tea leaves rather than say , an enema , or viagra supplement ? A mouthful of sticks,leaves and twiggy slithers would have suited George O right down to the ground but for the more discerning palette it was a little on the ascetic side of pleasurable . Later , drying piles of herbage seen on the streets explained everything and that gritty , road planings aroma told the tale.

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