Life and Travel in Lower Burmah: A RetrospectPaske, C. T. (Charles Thomas)
History
Life and Travel in Lower Burmah: A Retrospect
Paske, C. T. (Charles Thomas)
Burma -- Description and travel
The event of the day, to which all looked forward with great eagerness,
was the evening drive up and down a road running parallel with the
river; but its duration was of the briefest. As if by magic, the
place would suddenly swarm with all sorts of conveyances, from the
well-appointed barouche to the modest buggy. The ladies, one and all,
looked cadaverous, so much so that I felt quite concerned about them;
but was somewhat reassured by my friend’s reply to my inquiries: “Oh!
no, they are all ill; they all get like that after they have been out
here a short time.”
As far as I could judge, the aim of each native coachman was to
outdrive his fellow Jehu, for we certainly moved at a break-neck
pace. Consequently, I seldom saw any of my shipmates there. That rapid
transit for a brief hour in an open conveyance, with occasionally an
hour’s visiting and shopping in a closed one, seemed to me all the
outdoor exercise that the ladies had, and this accounted in a great
measure for the extreme pallor of their complexions.
In the way of contrasts, I do not think I ever beheld anything so
pronounced as the fresh, rosy, and yet bronzed complexions of the new
arrivals, and those of the more acclimatized specimens of the gentler
sex; yet at the same time, where there prevailed any redundancy of
colour and tendency to coarseness, the climate appeared to exercise an
ameliorating effect, imparting grace and refinement.
I thought, of course, that every one would be abroad in the early
morning, but the Europeans were conspicuous by their absence; and,
during the colder months at least, the state of the atmosphere was none
too inviting, as a chilly mist invariably hung over the place like a
pall, to be dispersed only when the sun was too high to render going
forth at all agreeable.
Notwithstanding, I used to make my way through it from one end of the
large, open space—the “Maidan”—to the other, returning home with my
hair and moustache covered with dewy moisture.
I used on these occasions to meet with one countryman, who, like
myself, felt bound to have his morning “constitutional” at any price;
and after various stages of recognition we became closely acquainted.
I came across him a year ago—nearly forty years after the time of which
I write—in Richmond; we were both _walking_!
During the day, with the sun shining upon it, the City of Palaces
looked somewhat imposing, especially the business quarters, alive
with people of almost every nationality, and the most heterogeneous
collection of conveyances, foremost among which was the indigenous
“Palkee.” It was pleasant to watch—from a distance; in fact, the
perfumes of Arabia did not predominate; and, as water-carts were an
unknown quantity, the dust and the glare combined to produce headache
and thirst, the latter being temporarily quenched by various American
drinks, in which, as my head told me, rum predominated.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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