Tag Archives: Yangon River

Yangon – Crossing the Yangon River

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So…it was nearing the end of our last day in Yangon, which was also our last day in Myanmar, and we still had some time to explore one more facet of Burmese life that was not on the regular tourist trail. We decided to take the regular commuter ferry that runs every half hour from the Pansodan Ferry Terminal back and forth across the Yangon River to the suburb of Dalla; look around in Dalla for a bit; and then head back to Yangon.

For all its air of decay, Yangon is an expensive place to live–well beyond the means of the average worker. For the many people who choose instead to live in the much-less-expensive Dalla, this is their daily commute.

Our ferry about to leave the Pansodan terminal

Intrepid Zaw buys our tickets and tells us to hurry; the boat is about to leave. We race madly down the gangplank along with several dozen other stragglers, barely making the boat in time, catching each other’s eyes and grinning.

Then we got a look at where we were.

The lower level of the ferry

Good thing it wasn’t rush hour, when it would have been really crowded!

Upstairs, there was more room, and there were small plastic chairs you could rent if you wanted to sit down somewhere other than the floor. It occurs to me now to wonder whether going upstairs required a higher class (more expensive) ticket. I don’t recall anyone actually checking tickets.

Upstairs

Here are some views looking back at Yangon from the river.

The Pansodan Ferry Terminal, from which we had just departed

Yangon skyline, possibly former government buildings (?)

At the Dalla Ferry Terminal, an unprepossessing structure, people were already waiting for the ferry to arrive. Most were passengers waiting to cross back to Yangon; others were vendors hoping to serve a hot meal or a snack to the passengers.

Dalla Ferry Terminal

Waiting for the ferry

We all took our stuff and left the boat.

Passengers disembarking

At the ferry terminal in Dalla, the passengers got into taxis and other conveyances and went their separate ways to home.

Ready to go home

Dan and Zaw and I walked around the neighborhood for a while, and then we headed back to the terminal for the trip back to Yangon.

At the terminal in Dalla

When we reached Pansodan Terminal in Yangon, there was already a crowd waiting for the journey back across. Er…yes, those are dead chickens hanging from the bicycle handles.

At the terminal in Yangon

 

Yangon – the working waterfront

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Seeing the life of the workers was, for Dan and me, one of the highlights of our trip to Myanmar. This is the first of a number of posts showing people at work. The waterfront in question served the crossing of the wide Yangon River for river traffic traveling between Yangon and the southern regions of the country. The river was not deep enough here for large seagoing vessels but instead served the local fleets.

And working on the waterfront were also vendors of goods and food to serve the stevedores and the travelers.

One of these flower vendors gave me a rose. No questions, no money expected. Just a rose. This is when I first began to understand that the people of Myanmar are friendly, kind, generous, and open. As a stranger, I felt good to be among them.

 

Here we are looking at an outdoor restaurant for the workers. The lady in the turquoise top is the cook and the waitress. (She’ll probably wash the dishes, too.) The gentleman standing on the left is not a customer; he is our estimable guide Zaw.

We also saw some workers–stevedores, perhaps–taking a break from the grind to play a soccer-like game with a woven (cane? bamboo?) ball.

There were small boats for the short trip just across the river and larger boats for the longer trips downriver. Some of the latter even had staterooms; others carried merchandise and goods on the lower level, where a ferry in the U.S. would carry cars.

   

Vendors were packaging the bulk goods on site.

Some of these packages are so heavy that it takes three men to lift one of them onto the shoulders of one man. And once loaded up, the stevedores literally run from the vendors to the ships. They are paid piece work, so the more packages they can load, the more they make that day. It’s grueling work, not for the faint-of-heart.

 

Just by the boats, other vendors sell a last-minute meal or snack for the journey. The boat below is about to depart, and so the lady in the flowered shirt with the green stools has gathered her tray of unsold pastries from the stool in front of her so that she can head over to where the next boat will soon be leaving.

The young couple below impressed me as unhappy. They seemed to need customers very much, but had none.

Each boat, in its turn, departs at last.