Knowing whether to call it Burma or Myanmar was just one of the many questions I had as the tug guided our 25,000 ton ship gingerly up the Yangon River. The dredging that had taken place earlier that morning had turned the open water from a cool bubble-bath blue to a murky brown, although I suspect it’s probably pretty-much this colour most of the time now. After four days at sea, civilisation lay ahead.
There were rumours that we’d be docking outside Yangon within walking distance of the city centre. The rumours were false, but where we did end up – in an industrial area an hour from the city – proved just as interesting. We’d arrived too late to head out that night so we took a stroll outside the ship in time to catch our first Burmese sunset.
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