Life Is Good When Breakfast Is Plentiful
Life Is Good When Breakfast Is Plentiful
Dopuh Nweh in Yangon
Ya ba de. Pronounced in a Burmese drawl, it’s a mix between the Beatles crooning Let it Be and Pumba and Timon bopping to Hakuna Matata. That’s alright, no worries, life is good, life flows on. For a country transitioning between military junta rule and nascent democracy, the phrase encompasses both resiliency during decades of oppression and hope and optimism for the future. For me, ya ba de is a life philosophy I have adopted for embracing the delightful and sometimes challenging quirks of living in Yangon.
I’m jarred awake by the yelping alley dogs. My phone, and with it my morning alarm, had died when the electricity cut off. Ya ba de! I’m a few minutes late to work, but I can grab breakfast on the go.
I squeeze sardine-style onto the rickety public bus. As the vehicle huffs its way through infamous Pyay Road traffic, I perch on a wooden plank between redolent armpits. Ya ba de! I get to practice conversational Burmese while using local transport, and the money I save can be spent on food.
And 30 minutes later, I am pushed off the still moving bus into one of Yangon’s finest wet markets. In an early-bird society that regularly wakes before dawn, the crowds have already thinned by now. But to my eyes, the narrow walkways are still crammed full of shoppers and vendors. I respectfully elbow my way through the throngs.
My first stop is to visit my a daws, aunties who present a variety of tea sweets in bamboo baskets. Today’s choices include sticky rice doughnuts—crackly sugar crust giving way to mochi-like chew—and puffy brown sugar pancakes griddled to order over coals. I hesitate, debating which to indulge in. Who am I kidding? Ya ba de! I take one of each.
Even before I walk 10 paces, all that are left of the sweets are crumbs. Properly fortified, I am now ready to bargain for whichever fruit is in season. Currently, it is plump little mango plums, harbingers of the bigger mangos which will ripen in a few weeks’ time. These baby versions have a puckery tartness to them, balanced usually in local recipes with sugar and chili powder. I like to pop them as is, the acidic zing my alternative to caffeine. How about 500 kyats for 10? Ya ba de! An all-natural waker-upper for less than 50 cents.
Next, I cross the railway tracks to my favorite roadside Shan noodle shop. The nyi ma lays, little sisters, recognize me, and ask if I want “the usual.” Ya ba de! My favorite Myanmar noodle dish, dopuh nweh. Uncongealed Shan tofu serves as a creamy chickpea sauce that slumps around sticky rice noodles, curried pork, and peanuts. It is the perfect comfort food. The secret ingredient found only at this shop is their homemade carrot pickles, added as you like tableside. For me, that means generous heaping spoonfuls, greedily nibbled until the fermented goodness gives me the kick I need to hightail it the rest of the way to the office.
Ya ba de! Life is delicious. Life is good.