Seat of Our Pants

It doesn’t happen often and we almost always suffer afterward, but sometimes it seems like a great idea to get rip roaring drunk with fellow travelers.

Last night was one of those nights. We had just finished our walking tour of Yangon and would have used the late afternoon for writing blog posts. We hadn’t figured out the work-around to access our site yet, so writing posts seemed like a waste of time. Our room sits next to a roof-top dining area with hammocks, so it was a logical next step to order a few cold beers to sip on. Right? Right.

Add two other travelers, a travel story bonanza and 32 beers to the mix and things got really interesting. One of our new friends took us for a much needed dinner after all that beer. His restaurant of choice? A brothel-restaurant. At least, that’s what it seemed like.

The tables were arranged around a stage, which was lit up every once in a while to illuminate a singing girl. Depending on how well she sang (?) or perhaps other things we didn’t understand, she was brought a certain colored garland to wrap around her neck. Were these poor girls being bought? Were they being awarded for their vocals? We’ll never know but for the sake of all the girls we saw last night, I hope it was the later.

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