Editor's Note: Bob Schiff has been traveling throughout Southeast Asia, and periodically sends along an update on his travels.

Yangon city life on the streets.

Myanmar - To get into Myanmar you have to fly from Bangkok into Yangon. Over 100 degrees and humid and the Toyota Corolla vintage 1970s taxis have no air condition. I stayed a couple of days to see the requisite sites and then flew to Mandalay with the intent to fly onward to the premiere sites of Bagan and Inle Lake. I also wanted to take in a few remote villages to get the feel for rural life too. Well, best laid plans - as I flew to Mandalay my back started to act up. My first day I did see some of the sites but there is not really much of interest in Mandalay and it's very hot. My back got worse to the point where the pain runs down my back through my hip to my thigh - I can barely walk. That night I went to a small cabaret type comedy show called "The Mustache Brothers" - open storefront with stage and about 10 plastic chairs. They are quite famous as they tell what in Myanmar are politically incorrect jokes that have landed two of the brothers in jail for five years of hard labor - Google them.

I'm staying at a $25 a night hotel (after moving from another place that wouldn't run the generator when the municipal power goes off at 11 a.m.) that is in the central part of the city and has an anemic air conditioner - in the daytime it barely keeps up with the 100 plus degree heat. I'm in such bad shape that I spend most of the time in bed as I can barely walk. I've been to a local doctor and got some anti-inflammatory pill ($5 USD) but they don't seem to help. I went down for the included breakfast in the morning and then got to an internet cafe mid-morning and then to a place about a block and a half from my hotel for lunch called Mann. I've also gone there for dinner. It's agony just to walk there but it's the closest place that I can get a decent meal and it gets a lively crowd of both locals and travelers. Being the congenial drinker that I am I meet a bunch of local guys that sit at a table that reminds me a bit of Cyril's table - a bunch of guys sitting around drinking and telling tales. These guys are just local working stiffs and have accepted me into their circle. We drink the local rum and talk between about 6:30 p.m. and 9 p.m. each night. I've made some good, albeit transient friends and am learning a lot about the people and culture.

Inside the Bogyoke Aung San Market.

The Streets Of Mandalay
Even though the name might gave rise to visions of an exotic Asian locale - if the truth be told it's really just a third world city but I am warming up to it. The streets are filled with very old (20 to 40 years) cars, blue taxis (think a covered pick-up truck about the size of a Mini and about 25 years old), decrepit buses and trucks and gazillions of small Chinese made motorbikes and bicycles. Hardly any traffic lights and while there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the traffic flow somehow it all works. Oh, and there are red stains all over the streets - betel nut spit. You can't imagine what the teeth and gums look like on people who chews the stuff - and many do - disgusting. Also, almost all the girls, old and young, and some of the guys have a pale yellowish tree bark paste smeared on their cheeks. Looks very tribal, and the standard dress for both men and women is a shirt, a longyi (ankle length usually dull colored plaid skirt-like wrap) and flip flops.

Like many third world cities everything takes place on the streets. For the most part people have small open storefronts that serve as both a social living space - sometimes with a television - and a place of business. Several generations of family are on hand. Everything pours out onto the sidewalk. There are plastic chairs, tables and cooking facilities mingled with trade goods. Motorbikes and bicycles are parked haphazardly out front. You can't walk down a sidewalk with all the clutter. There are stores selling everything - food, tools, machinery, old engine parts, household goods, clothes, etc. In many cases the buildings have a second floor where the extended family sleeps.

My hotel, Asia Plaza Hotel (it looks better than it is) - $30/night. Got an early start for my walk.

There are several traditional tea shops around town. The food is tasty and cheap and I didn't get sick. Typically they are in an open front building with small tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. You can judge their quality by the volume of motorbikes parked out front. At about 6 p.m. many sidewalks sprout tables and cooking facilities with people hanging out eating, drinking tea and beer and socializing the evening away. All smiles - many of which display red betel nut stained and rotted teeth and gums.

Sri Kali temple.

Sex And The Married Myanmar Couple
So generally couples don't have sex before marriage. Some of the guys may get lucky before marriage (which must mean that a few of the girls do too), but I haven't a good explanation of what happens if after they tie the knot and they are unhappy, as I don't think divorce is part of their culture.

I did get a funny story from one of the guys about sex after marriage with children. Remember, this is a poor country and the family might live in a space that in America might be the size of a bathroom with one bed for the whole family. So when the urge hits and one of the kids just won't go to sleep well the urge is the urge. So they start and the kid asks what going on. The father says he's rowing the boat. So the kid asks can he climb on his back and take a ride. The guys says yes (quite a visual, eh?). Well the ride gets better and better and then nothing. The kids asks what happened and the wife says daddy broke his paddle. Funny stuff...

About Money
So obviously these people don't have much of it. The shame is that this is a resource rich country but the junta steals much of it and the people really don't benefit at all - BIG time. Very sad as the people are so nice and they try so hard just to eek out a modest living. It is truly a police state. I saw a guy get taken out from our table because he had a bag of very minor porn stuff - empty boxes of some enhancement pill like Viagra with a provocative picture on it. Someone in the restaurant called the police. Freaky.

Street life includes many flower markets.

They, like all Asians, are gamblers. Some of the people form groups of about 20 trustworthy friends that put 1,000 kyat ($1 USD) into a pot each day and after 20 days there is a drawing and the winner takes the pot. To put a little perspective on it they might make 2,000 to 10,000 kyat per day. A bottle of local rum we drink cost 1,800 kyat ($1.80 for a whole bottle!) - it's all good fun and about all I can do given that I can barely walk.

They also don't believe in the banking system. As they accumulate savings they invest in gold jewelry. Seems strange to see a poor women adorned with gold jewelry but once you understand the thinking behind it it does make sense. his is a fairly common practice throughout Southeast Asia.

Per the Lonely Planet there are only about 25 Jews left in Yangon.

Everything is paid for in cash. There are no ATM's or credit cards. I bought $3,000 USD with me in new clean bills (they won't accept anything else) and exchange them for kyat. The official rate is about 680 kyat and the black market is between 900 and 990. Everyone uses the black market. Small Myanmar bills are in horrible shape - old, crumpled, stained, ripped and taped together, etc. When I ask why they tell me it's because the government doesn't want to pay for the safety paper to replace old bills.

Thingyan
Luckily I'm in Mandalay for the Buddhist New Year's festival of Thingyan. It's a four-day water festival that takes place before New Year's Day that is celebrated in all the SE Asian Buddhist countries. The purpose is to wash away the sins of the prior year and get a fresh start on the new. The celebration in Mandalay is the best in the country. Most businesses are closed including the internet cafe that I frequent. The junta's Communications Department has restricted access to most internet sites including Gmail at my hotel - go figure. I'm cut off from the outside world for the duration of Thingyan.

Botataung Paya.

I hobble to Mann at 11 a.m. to meet my new buddies and celebrate Thingyan. I can barely walk and am in considerable pain. After much discussion it is decided that I should go to a traditional Myanmar healer to alleviate my pain. At this point I'm ready to try anything. My friend Momo comes with me in a friend's blue taxi. I'm going through areas of the city that are well off the tourist trail. Being Thingyan most everything is closed. There are places along the streets, denoted by the water on the roadway, where people are celebrating Thingyan in full force. It's generally children and young adults with whatever will hold water - hoses, buckets, bowls, spray guns, etc. that lie in wait for anyone who comes by. There is no way not to get soaked. In the heat the water feels refreshing. I try not to think of its origin. Hey, it's all in good fun and besides, I probably have a few sins that merit a good washing.

This is a jeweled golden vessel that contains a hair of Buddha.

We stop at a wooden house with an open fronted first floor with seating claiming the sidewalk as a patio. There are a few people relaxing out front that seem amused to see a foreigner here. Nobody speaks English. Momo does the talking and they get a middle aged guy who is to attend to my pain. He's dark which typically denotes lower class clad in a traditional (dirty) longyi, flip flops and no shirt. With Momo translating I'm directed to lie on the wooden massage table. When I try to lay flat and extend my legs my right leg and lower back go into excruciating pain. The guy goes to work starting at my right foot. He maneuvers me into various positions as he works his way up my leg to my thigh, hip, buttocks and back. The pain is unbearable. Just before my breaking point thankfully he stops. Next he cuts about a 10 inch square pad of cotton and smears on some type of mentholated goo and tapes it to my lower back. He directs me to keep it on for about three hours and go rest. Momo suggested 5,000 kyat but I give the guy 10,000 (About $10 USD) - hey, it's Thingyan and the family looks like it could use a bit of extra cash. It's back to my hotel this time sitting inside the blue taxi cab rather then the open back as not to wet my dressing as we pass through the festivities.

Kandawgyi Lake.

My buddies pick me up at my hotel on a motorbike at about 4 p.m. and we head to Mann's for some beer and rum (and I grab a late lunch there). The guys have picked up another group of foreigners - about eight European travelers in their 20s and all of us pile into a blue taxi and motorbikes and off we go to join the festivities. While there are people all over town waiting to ambush passersby around the Royal Palace (a two mile square walled grounds surrounded by about a 50 yard wide moat) they have constructed large wood platforms (like parade viewing bleachers) along the streets. There is music blaring from speakers at each stand. Water hoses are fed by a system that pumps water from the palace moat. There are dozens of hoses on each stand. There is a wild slow moving procession of motorbikes, bicycles, open-back trucks of all types and sizes and blue taxis all piled full with people singing and dancing. Everybody is getting absolutely drenched. he streets in front of the stands are jam packed with revelers singing, dancing and drinking in water that's between ankle and knee deep. Vendors wander through the crowd selling street food. Even the police are soaked. A wild scene.

Arriving at the premiere attraction in Yangon - Shwedagon Paya.

Next we proceed to the Ayeyarwady River to watch the sunset. Floating along the sandy banks are rafts made from bundles of bamboo lashed together. The guys have arranged for us to use one for the evening. We sit around drinking rum and are treated to a "bachelors stew" - a mild curried chicken, goat and vegetable soup that Momo has cooked. Tasty. We arrange to hire a truck for the next day and call it a night.

Thingyan Day Two
We are to meet at Mann at 10 a.m. but I am in such pain that I decide to stay in bed. My buddies come to the hotel with a problem. The Europeans have backed out of the truck hire and they claim they are now stuck paying for it themselves. It's $50 USD. I'm such a sap and I do want to get out and see the festivities around town and the plan also calls for us to head outside Mandalay to a lake with a famous teak bridge (it's on the cover of the Myanmar Lonely Planet guidebook so I guess it's not to be missed) so I pony up the $50. I tell them to invite whoever they want to fill the truck and come back at 1 p.m.

The prettiest place I saw in Yangon.

The truck is a 1978 Chinese made open back affair held together with paint and bondo. There is a metal frame around the back truck bed so everyone has something to hang on to. They have packed it with friends and relatives. Since I am still in a lot of pain I claim the seat inside the cabin for much of the journey but do get out back when we hit the major watering stands. While yesterday there were many places with wet streets today many of the streets around town look like we are in monsoon season. There are trucks jam packed with people everywhere. Motorbikes with two to five passengers each roam the streets like ants. Typically there is such a serious look on the faces of the children throwing water as they take aim at their prey. It's amusing to watch that look melt into a big smile as they hit their target. It's absolute pandemonium. There are many stands and water stations around town and almost every home lining the streets has a few kids out front stalking passersby. At places with particularly big water stands or busy intersections traffic backs up badly. Being the only westerner (didn't see another all day) I'm quite the attraction. Everyone is jammed so tight that I'm high-fiving and shaking hands with people on motorbikes and in other trucks. It's amazing how friendly everyone is. They all ask, "What country you come from?" When I answer the most common response is, "Oh America, very good country!" They love us.

Restoring the gold work.

It's only seven miles to Taungthaman Lake but it takes us over an hour to get through the mayhem. Constructed in 1849 the teak pedestrian U Bein's Bridge is 1,300 yards long supported by over 1,000 teak poles. Impressive and beautiful. Unfortunately I can't take my camera anywhere as it most certainly would get wet. My back hurt too much for me to tackle the bridge so I hang at one of many open air (third world) cafes and have a beer and watch the locals enjoying their holiday. Motorbikes and trucks everywhere. Young adults, children, families crossing the bridge, taking rides in the boats on the lake, eating and drinking. The beggar mothers holding small children approached me as if I would be their salvation. At times it is difficult (they are good at making it so) but I don't give to beggars. I'm sure a few westerners were there among the locals but I didn't see any. It was like one giant street fair.

Back we head into Mandalay for a trip around the Royal Palace. We've tapped into a bottle of rum and are feeling no pain. Everybody is dancing and singing. The local favorite goes: O'lay loap ha lay, O'lay loap ha lay - over and over again. I think it means something like shake your bum. It takes quite a while to get to the palace and once there we join the procession to pass by the big water stands. It's absolute madness. We do this for a few miles and then begin to drop people off at their shacks - it's not a moneyed crowd I'm with.

Inside Sule Paya complex.

Once the sun goes down the dowsing stops. After a shower it's back to Mann. The guys want to take me to a Karaoke joint. We end up at a dump of a building and get a private upstairs room with couches, a videoke TV and two microphones. For 1,000 kyat ($1 USD) each we get a few unattractive girls to keep us company and help with the singing. The guys are having a blast. Pathetic. After a beer I'm done and we all head home. I'm awake most of the night as I can't find a position to sleep that doesn't hurt.

Thingyan Day Three
The next day I go to a local clinic. Two blocks away but I have to hire a trishaw as there is no way I can walk. They want to give me some kind of injection. Fat chance! Instead I opt for some pain pills and muscle relaxers. I spend the day and night listening to dancing and singing in the streets while I'm in pain and agony in the sheets.

I hear on BBC that three bombs have gone off at a water platform at a lake in Yangon where they are also celebrating Thingyan. The official death toll is nine but I hear that it's truthfully over 50. he really sad part is that the people who are in the heat of the celebrations, particularly at the water stands, are all young - mostly teenagers. Nobody claims responsibility. There are whispers that the government was behind the attack to create an excuse to increase military presence during the upcoming elections. I wouldn't doubt it.

Thingyan Day Four
Another sleepless night. I decide I need to get to Bangkok where there is decent medical care available. In the morning I talk to a couple I met at the hotel who have a travel agency in Yangon about flying to Bangkok today. It can be done so I cut my trip short and head for the airport. One flight to Yangon ($86) and another onward to Bangkok ($170). Tomorrow I head for the hospital and hopefully some relief.