Myanmar - To Wander

To wander is a gift we owe ourselves. It offers the luxury of time. Time to stop and to truly see things. The pace is slow. The senses awaken. You become one with your surroundings and the people you meet along the way. 

Fascinated by a structure made of bamboo and reeds, we stopped to appreciate its beauty. The house stood in a huge sandy area, which in turn lay in a bed of emerald green. The rice paddies had a profound effect on the world that day. Adding a pristine intensity to the various shades of colour everywhere. Like jewels, they projected their sparkle. 

Debs found herself hiding behind a pile of wood whilst engaging with a child in role-play. My extremely elegant daughter, hat-and-all, took to battle. It was one of those surreal encounters in which we found ourselves on the journey. A moment when you try to grasp where in the world you are. And with whom you are sharing that moment. Two people from such varied cultures, ages and experiences came together to share fun and laughter.

It had been a morning of surprises. Some, rather quirky. We made use of the bathrooms of a nearby resort. Once more I found myself balancing precariously along rickety wooden walkways. The stress was worth it. Out in the middle of nowhere I sat on a loo with an exquisite view. That of rice paddies and the Blue Mountains. The strength and adaptability of bamboo has always intrigued me. Tightly secured to each other, with the use of intricate knots, the beautiful poles formed extensive walkways through the paddies. Enabling us to stand surrounded by this precious source of food. It all felt very healthy and nurturing.

Wandering further along the narrow dirt road we came upon a village. It held a certain romanticism. Wood fires sent gentle smoke signals upwards. Chatter could be heard everywhere. Shacks served as petrol depots, eating places and spots where friends would gather. Character and charm radiated from everywhere. It was evident to me, no matter how small or simple each place was, there existed a sense of pride in what was. A beautiful sentiment. 

As always, the aromas of cooking beckon me to investigate further. A huge wrought iron pan stood over a fire. It held within its searing hot oil, golden tofu bits. Memories of life in Beijing flooded back to when we consumed copious amounts of that dish. A strikingly beautiful little girl greeted us as she guarded her meal. Her intense black eyes bore through us as she clutched her corn. Just as intensely, her grandmother gazed at us. Offering a gentle smile. An air of simple contentment held us captive with each person we met. Their lives seemed to be uncomplicated. And happy. They had the basic necessities and there existed a communal spirit. One of protection, respect and care.

One lady sat gazing protectively over her fire. She seemed preoccupied with the contents of the bin. Perhaps she was anxious for the heat to destroy them. A toddler, hands neatly clasped behind his back, explored his environment. Perhaps her concerns for the child kept her from smiling at us. We respectfully moved on.

I love the sight of washing hanging out to dry. Perhaps after all my years of living in Asia and in Africa, the sight of brightly coloured clothes worshipping the warmth of the sun, fills my heart with a sense of belonging. There was no shortage of that wonderful sentiment that day. Piles of wood, branches and bamboo poles were smothered in damp brightness. Some hanging precariously close to murky waters.

Not only were clothes washed in the dark waters. Two young women, elegant in their tight-fitting longyis, balanced on an improvised bamboo bridge. They chatted as each dish was carefully and thoroughly washed in those suspicious waters. I admired their elegance, acceptance and pride with which they held their lives dear. 

A beautiful sight was the obvious care and love with which a father bathed his baby. They giggled and cuddled. The sunshine throwing warmth over them both. I refused to judge the situation as in bathing in that water. I chose instead to see the happiness and bonding between father and son. Making the most of their authentic world.

It was a wander filled with richness. We both gained deeper insight into the people of Myanmar. No matter where or who, they are a kind and loving nation. We headed back into town with feelings of deep admiration and respect for all we had shared that day. When I look back on these memories, and see the photos, I recognise the happiness it gave me. A happiness brought about by getting out there and wandering.

Later that night we enjoyed a very welcome local dinner. With full bellies and happy hearts, neither Debbie nor I thought about where the dishes may have been washed.