I’m writing this in a Southeast London cafe. Sitting in front of a laptop, an oat latte by my side. There’s the sound of Zoom calls, the barista calling for service, kids banging on tables, but when all that quietens down, it’s just the hiss of the milk steamer, a Spotify playlist on the Sonos and the soft tap-tap of typing.
It makes me think of the audio I recorded a few years ago, sitting in Lucky Seven in downtown Yangon, where service starts early in the morning and continues until late afternoon. It’s a great place to order a bowl of fragrant mohinga – Burma’s national dish – a rice noodle soup made with catfish, lemongrass, ginger, garlic and turmeric and topped with yellow split pea fritters, crispy fried shallots and a hard-boiled egg.
From the heavy wooden tables inside to the plant-packed terrace outside and the large kitchen counter that runs the length of the tea shop, service here is fast and frantic. It’s soundtracked by the clatter of cups and saucers, clinking metal spoons, the kissing sound customers make to attract attention, the beep of scooters and stools being scraped across the tiled floor.
So while I’m daydreaming of swapping my coffee and croissant for sweet tea and a savoury steamed bun, here’s what I wrote about a special little place in Pindaya some time ago.
Days here begin and end with a cup and saucer. On our first visit, we order a plate of spring rolls, prepared between power cuts the night before. A young boy works the room, weaving between tables and responding to requests. He wipes down the plastic-covered table before passing us a squeezy bottle of chilli sauce using both hands, a sign of respect. He looks serious but soon smiles as he tries his English.
Above a row of metal flasks lined up against the wall, a black-and-white portrait of General Aung San surveys the room. Gazing out over the tissue dispensers, ashtrays and cans of condensed milk.
Sitting at the table next to us, a man plucks a cigarette from a rusty metal tin, grabs the lighter dangling from the ceiling and lights up. He is deep in conversation while scowling at his phone, which is second-hand but new to them. Before leaving, he’ll pay for his tea and a single smoke, just as the women on their way to Pone Taloke Lake stop to buy a sachet of shampoo to wash their hair when the laundry is done. Forget bulk buying – you get what you need when you need it.
Returning to the Pindaya tea shop four years later, it’s like being reunited with an old friend. We’re slightly giddy to see the same fixtures and fittings, even the same people. We show someone our picture of the men learning to use their phones, and they nod with recognition, gesturing towards the road as if he might walk past at any moment.
A few recommendations:
My favourite Lucky Seven is at 138-140 49th St. Pazundaung, but there are a few dotted around the city.
Enjoy background noise (and discover what pink sound is) wherever you’re working via A Soft Murmur and, for a change of scene, immerse yourself in the sights and sounds of forests around the world or gaze out of someone else’s window for a while.
All images © Nic Crilly-Hargrave Photography – thanks ;-)