The hotel
At this point, a description of my hotel – reputed to be the best on Rangoon, a claim that I didn’t have reason to doubt! The service in the dining room was rather awe inspiring, the traditions of the British had been preserved over the years since independence in 1948, and in this spot at least, it was as if you had suddenly been transported back over the years to the Victorian era. Somehow, whether by their original excellence or determined local maintenance the large ornate ceiling fans still continued to slowly rotate in the cathedral atmosphere of the dining room.
The table linen, though slightly tatty, was spotless as was the linen over the arms of the hovering waiters. Tableware was antique and the service was carried out in almost deathly quiet. The food was good, but being a lone diner most of the time amongst a sea of pristine tables, I found that I was much happier dining out. In any case I took very few meals in Rangoon, my travels finding me sampling plenty of outlying cuisine, which were mostly fruit and nuts! One of my favourites was the local pink fleshed bananas! The least of my fancies was breakfasts of toast and fried eggs, which I quickly came to realise had been toasted and fried the previous night and left to cool and this was how it was served the next morning, heaped on a large plate in the centre of the table, STONE COLD!
But back to the hotel! My room was on the second floor, which was actually quite high up, as the dining and drawing rooms below were high ceilinged to say the least. Apart from a rough single bed and a decaying cupboard and a cane chair, there was nothing! True, there was an air conditioner provided, but this was a relic which had not operated for many years. In fact it was partly dismantled and spilled out of it’s hole in the wall on to the floor below, where it was apparent that the cleaner had swept around it since it’s collapse – a large pile of dirt and scraps of paper resided in an extensive mould, the sort of thing that you glimpse in cellars and rooms in horror movies!
The electric light switch at the doorway was almost unidentifiable and hung from the two wires that protruded from the wall. This needed two hands to operate but was ineffective anyway as the single globe hanging from the centre of the room appeared to be blown (if in fact the intermittent electricity supply was still connected to the room). But the room did have one redeeming feature. In one corner was a bare rough concrete alcove with a broken enamel wash basin and a shower rose in the roof which dispensed a dribble of cold water. I did find this a bit of a refuge as I took countless showers while in Rangoon as an escape from the oppressive heat. Out in the country areas it seemed cool by comparison.
The cashiers check out area was rounded by intricate wrought steel screens above ancient timber furnishings and contained a couple of absolutely ancient typewriters and a Facit mechanical calculator with great protruding keys and levers. Amazingly this dinosaur still worked and I was fascinated with its clattering progress as it later hammered out my bill!
Outside the hotel the tree lined streets were rough and completely unmaintained. Footpaths of concrete slabs had long been uprooted to gain access to decaying water and sewage pipes below leaving remaining broken slabs at odd angles at what was left of the kerbs – at other places the slabs just subsided into the voids below. There was a small park next to the hotel with fish ponds, bridges and a rotunda that had somehow survived from the opulent years of the British Raj. In the cool of the evenings, this spot was a meeting place for the locals, walking with their children and friends, and it was there that I spent a couple of otherwise boring nights during my stay.
Opposite the hotel was the residence of one of the city fathers, apparently a very influential family. High stone walls surrounded it’s extensive gardens which I could see into from my upper window, but two armed guards at the steel shuttered gates discouraged any attempt to visit. However my resident Aussie mate was on good terms with the family and enjoyed invitations to their home on occasion.