Dear reader, you may have noticed that things have been a bit quite on the pcbycp front. The fact is that we all needed a break, and as we while away the long days wondering if we really care about the latest test scores we bring you fragments from afar.  Piece by piece we recover from the year just had, and segway into the year that’s with us now.

2016 was ” interesting”.  Let’s hope that 2017 is not too ‘exciting’. One thing we can count on is that the P.M for “Thought Bubbes’ will be hard at it once again to prove his reformist credentials.  And after the backpack legislation was passed we know that our estimations are higher than high. We truly do get the best politicians the lobbysists pay for. No sign of reform or an agenda. That’s real-politik speak for maintaining the status quo.   

Now, for a fragment from Cecil. He’s been travelling a bit lately and you may like to share his insights; If not, you can always listen to Channel Nine’s cricket coverage and be insulted regularly and without remission. Some people like a bit of pain. It keeps them ‘on their toes’, so to speak. 

From Cecil,

Rickshaw to Rangoon

‘The wife* and I have been in Myanmar since Christmas. I’m writing this while awaiting our flight to Bagan.

The roads are just not up to scratch.

Myanmar more specifically, Yangon, has been better than expected. Highlight has been the circle train, a three hour journey around the city- the only metropolitan service – total distance about 45 km, cost 35 cents. Within the circle live some 8 million people. From the train we saw extraordinary innovation, houses cobbled together from any and every imaginable material (although not an igloo to be seen). Every few hundred yards there were people, invariably young men, playing ‘chinlone’ a cross between volley ball and soccer, usually three a side on the smallish dirt courts. These courts often seemed to have been cleared on the trackside. Plenty of Paddy’s as we got further from the centre of town, the farmers here being an obvious underclass (as almost everywhere).

The lowlight, although highly educational was a three and a half hour con of which we were the targets. I’ll tell you about that when the wife* and I have recovered.
(Just occurred to us sitting in the airport, more modern, functional and better designed than Tulla, that a fabulous Cargo Cult exists here to. The aeroplane brings the wealth, at least that is what the economic hit men say.)

Flying the Focker. Cecil and wife prepare to board

Back to the circular train, we saw a number of farmers up to their chests (Burmese people are generally very short) in water tending their crops. Also lots and lots of kite fliers with extraordinarily long lines rolled onto reclaimed 300mm electric cable reels. The kites seemed to have no tails, yet flew very high and stable.
We are now on a Fokker, flying to Bagan. For the first time here we are surrounded by tourists. In front of us a group of about twenty French tourists. They must have been staying in air conditioned comfort, as one or two wearing parkas, the rest with pullovers and scarves. We are wearing attire more suited to the tropical climate.

Boarding has commenced for our Mann Yadanarpon Airlines ‘Enjoy Royal Service’ to Nyaung (Bagan), and the service and plane are equal to the best we’ve encountered.
* The term ‘Wife’ is used in its generic sense, the Wife* is married, as am I’.