Yangon, Myanmar. Street Food

Street food, temples and a side order of fortune telling and local conversation.

We left to explore early in the morning.  Immediately outside our hotel, in front of a large construction site, a small wizened man served us tofu pockets (think pita pocket but tofu instead of bread and bite size) with fried shallots, chopped peanuts, coriander, lime juice, sprouts and a delicious spicy sweet sauce.  Total cost, 20 cents and a smile. I about cried it was so good.  I almost cried a lot yesterday. 

Me, with my Myanmar donut and sweet tea.

Yangon is a bustling city with many street vendors, stray dogs, wandering monks and cars for all incomes.  Unlike many other developing countries, there are no mopeds or motorcycles on the road.  The rumor is that a General was once hit by a motorcycle and subsequently banned them from the city.  It’s a city and a country that is changing rapidly.  The people of Yangon have been so agile in absorbing the relentless push of western technology.  I spoke with friends who visited Myanmar four years ago.  There was little, if any, western influence and felt like a country in a time warp with no technology.  As little as one year ago, you could secure a sim card, but it was a lengthy, month-long process and cost $150.  When I arrived here, my taxi driver on the way to the hotel sold me a sim card for $1.50.  He had a pin in his glove compartment to pop open my iPhone and waited for me under the glow of his mobile phone while I ate street curry on the way to the hotel.  The country is changing so fast.  As we walked the streets during the day, street vendors selling the traditional lonngi’s were next to vendors selling ear buds and cell phone covers.  The juxtaposition of traditional and new is everywhere.

Rhonda and I wandered the streets and markets, which were a visual feast and a culinary delight.  Men and women pounded out impossibly thin lengths of dough that they quickly fried and topped with sugar or bean paste.  Hot, steaming, sweet, flaky pastry dough.  Cost 15 cents.   donut has got nothing on this Myanmar specialty. 

Street vendors

As we meandered past one offer the many alleys, licking our fingers, we noticed other stands with a multplicity of condiments and noodles.  The line of locals was long and they were slurping up something with gusto. 

We had to stop. 

It turned out to be Mohinga, the country’s specialty and most common dish.  We pulled up two plastic stools (sized for toddlers.  For some reason, in this country, the shorter or small the stool, the more preferable) and joined the crowd.  I’m not sure I can describe the ecstasy of the first spoonful.  Raman-like with noodles and broth, with crunchy bits of corn fritter and god knows what else.  Tourists are still not commonplace, so two white women with our knees tucked up to our noses slurping away drew a lot of looks and smiles. 

Mohinga, the national dish

We were so happy.

Regretfully, our bellies were now full, so we abandoned the street vendors and began to make our way to the temples for a dose of tourism.