More tempting Burmese delights to tickle your tantalised tastebuds...

Sweet, ice cold, pink and profiled in Beth's diary entry, this wondrous liquid (come solid) confection is pronounced something like yi-geh-thoat. Ingredients: water, sugar (one gallon), sweetened condensed milk, crushed ice, biscuits, bread, one penny jelly sweets and little round globulets of something fruity (depending on availability). Cost: 5 baht. Best served: after swimming or a walk in the heat. Outcome: energy rush and a mild bemusement that all that stuff can combine to taste that good. Models: the Sheba-like Oo Ni Kay, the observant Htwe Yee and the hair-lopped Blackie (a nickname of his own choosing, related to his darker skin colour - seriously).

One of the two big traditional dishes from Burma regularly served up on special ocassions here - this one being 'Mohinga' (in a dictionary it is described as vermecelli and fish soup, but that's not even half the story - or taste). This great cauldron of the dish/plate is being brewed for the Christmas day celebrations, where it was lovingly created and sold by Yaung Ni Oo's Parent Teacher Association for 5 baht a pop. The festival took place on the Mae La Oon 'airport' you can see in the background, and attracted many folks to eat, drink and watch the outdoor TV. A massive amount of work went into its preparation; sadly only about ten pounds sterling was raised - though spirits are high for next time, as this one was a trial run.

Here's a traditional Mae La Oon hut kitchen, replete with stylish bamboo fronted units, rustic fittings, convenient overhead hanging utensil storage and original exposed cooking fire.

Pausi, Chinese Dumpling. You think it's not cooked, but it is. And inside are the delights of egg, onion, spice and some form of meat (usually pork) - so it's presence on the teashop menu is a bit of a rarity (and when it's there it isn't around for long).

Plain green tea. Served hot and free in the tea shops of Burma and Mae La Oon.

Pausi innard. Such an inner sanctum can be stuffed with all manner of meaty delights. It's a favourite in Thailand, even finding its way into the ubiquitous Bangkokian 7/11 stores than line every street. Not quite as satisfying as Mae La Oon innard, though.

Thought it was flapjack, turned out to be the biggest, sweetest sugarlump I've ever eaten. One for small quantities when there's a big red bucket of water lying around wanting to be thankfully drank. Rock hard (here the hands are attempting to distribute this particular ration), it's a sweet Karen delicacy.

Beh Polata. Crunchy on the outside, smooth on the inside: lovely. Five baht for two, teashop stocks willing. Wholesome and (it makes a change) not too much on the oily side of gastronomic life.

Instant coffee is a big hit in Mae La Oon and is increasingly popular inside Burma. Very sweet and quite strong, it's shiny golden packeted remnants can be found scattered around the camp - be it hanging in shop fronts luring takers to sample its powdery contents, or lying discarded and prostrate amongst scraps of equally redundant bamboo.

This has got to be up there near the top of my list of all time favourite Burmese dishes. Oh Noo Cau Swe - noodles with chicken in coconut sauce - is a delight. Eaten twice in my time here, on both occassions this has been at the door of the spritely Oo Ni Kay at the invitation of her and her family (who work for two solid hours to prepare this treat). With the chicken and coconut it would be delicious enough, but the addition of potato, egg, cabbage and a number of other unknown vegetable delicacies - wow! The more I think about it, the more I come to the opinion that yes, this particular dish should sit proudly atop my all-time refugee camp cuisine top ten. Well done, Oh Noo Cau Swe. Thanks, Oo Ni Kay and family.

Fish curry. This fishy piccy was snapped on the first ocassion of fresh fishy Friday. Having battled and overcome a number of purportedly insurmountable obstacles to achieve a regular and consistent slippery supply, I was particularly happy and relieved to be able to tuck into what is an extreme delicacy for the boarding students, and surely a bit of a help to their growing minds and bodies. Just a shame there's so many bloomin' bones to take out (and, let's face it, no chips to go with it). Thanks to Walter's donations, the kids are guaranteed the continuation of this once a week fresh fish supply until practically the end of 2005. After that, not sure – finding consistent, regular donors is a big problem over here.

The Paste. Caught in the penal act of cooking. Some would say it smells and tastes far worse than it looks. This weak-willed foreigner couldn't possibly comment.

Meal-time, big house. Eating is a serious business. Talking is unnecessary pontification. There's essential work to be done, let's eat! Fingers flex, rice stirrs, curries are heaped and mixed, soups are sipped, chillis are braved, garlic is crunched, satisfied smiles are shared.

Laughter central of Section 13, Daw Yin Kyi's chortling is the most infectious can't-help-but-smile thing this side of chucklevision. Teacher of Burmese at Yaung Ni Oo, and the first to up sticks to the new residence aside the school, she's just given birth to a little tykestress in the hospital here.
In front of us, amongst other delicacies specially prepared for this visit paid at about the 7 months of bump stage, sits a forbidden fruit. Sometimes, just sometimes, one can get a craving here in the camp for something a little bit naughty, a little bit forbidden (I think the 'child-look-away-now-warning' goes here…). And, because it's not wise to trample all over cultural traditions of sleeping around, one has to (somewhat reluctantly of course) opt for 'Ne Pure Thee Jor' - deep (deep, deep) fried banana. Yum, yum, tickle my tum - it's delicious.
That is, if it's consumed with restraint. The lack of fat intake when deep-fried delicacies are not around can leave one prone to the disasterous repetitive-strain injury of 'Ne Pure Thee Jor-reaching'. I ate so much (on the insistence of my hosts, I promise), that, supported by the effects of the various chillis also consumed that day, the lining of my mouth began to corrode. A pity. At the time of writing I haven't eaten for 24 hours (and I'm not even getting sponsored...) because of a 'them bor thee jor' (fried papaya) overdose two days ago. It seems too much deep-fried food doesn't - unsurprisingly - do one much good - but not much more than rice rice rice can leave one decidedly vulnerable to such a risky fat fat fat binge.

An mid-day visit to Naw Daw Ries Day (yes, pronounced Doris Day) on the same day a duck decided to visit her roof - and the same day as the early morning fried banana depths described above. Serious corrosion was ensuing by then, so I evidently had to resort to pulling silly faces in photos to keep my hosts happy. I was invited to eat a plateful of biscuits instead of mouth-lining-slewing curry. It hurt.

A few more snaps of folks welcoming me into their homes at dinner time:

(eeek! These welcoming folks have turned into cigars!) And they're probably the most depressing item of social construction at post-meal times, particularly ubiquitous at parties where women and men are segregated carefully: after-dinner lungbusters ('just for men'). Apparently their ritual consumption isn't actually any kind of tradition brought over from Burma. They don't stop at the rumoured five minutes of life less per puff - a full hour of life must be choked away in the nauseating combustion of each one. Yup, I'd be a non-smoker then.