Take Me Back to Manhattan

Ten Days - Part 16
Monday, September 29, 2008

The next morning we awoke for our final day of exploring Bagan. We set off to buy some gifts for family and friends and rode to one of the few temples that you can actually climb.
We decided to go for it and scale the steep and scalding stairs, and were rewarded with one of the most stunning views I've ever seen. The air was hot and dry, but standing up there we had a bird's eye view of all the golden temples glistening across the plains. The sun hit them in such a way that it looked like the ground was radiating gold and the land was peppered with beautiful bright orange and hot pink flowers. I stared out and I felt like I was on another planet, so far removed from our world. No “new construction”, no high rises -only trees and flowers and land as far as the eye could see. It was a beautiful way to finish seeing this old city. And trust me, I would have been very happy had that been my last view...

We continued on to see a few more temples and then looked at a map to determine whether or not we should backtrack toward the hotel and bike into Nyung Yu (the city where we would have to return our bikes) or if we should bike through New Bagan on the way to Nyuang Yu. On the map, the latter looked like the shorter route. Word to the wise...when you’re trying to gage distance, never trust a Lonely Planet map.

At 12 PM, we set off on a main but barren road to make our way to Nyuang Yu. Burma Boy stopped early in the ride to take some pictures, but told me to keep going – that he would catch up with me. I think he was afraid that if I stopped, I’d never start again - and he wouldn't have been so wrong. Riding in that heat on the pavement with the sun pounding on my back, I began to space a bit. It wasn't until about 20 minutes later when I stopped for a moment to look behind that I realized 1.he was nowhere in sight and 2. I had a flat tire. Truthfully, I was more concerned with getting my tire fixed than with finding Burma Boy. He’d catch up with me eventually and he had demonstrated that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I was actually enjoying the time to myself. I hopped back on my bike and pedaled harder and harder as the ride began to get progressively difficult. I don't know how long it was before I finally found a small hut on the side of the road where I paid them 50 kyat to put air in my tire. Burma Boy probably would have blown hot air into the tire himself before actually paying someone to HELP him but I had become very clear that certain things were worth paying for. From the smiles on the faces of the people who had helped me, I’m certain I had overpaid for their services. But when I was riding like normal again, I knew it was well worth it. Occasionally I would look behind me, but Burma Boy was nowhere to be seen. All I saw was dry land, the occasional temple, and the never-ending road ahead. Once again, I found myself chanting my mantra, "just keep going, just keep going, don't stop, don't stop" Over and over and over and over.

Around 2 PM (need I remind you that this is TWO WHOLE HOURS after we had set out on this journey?) I came to an intersection where I recognized the road leading us to our destination. There was a tree with a good amount of shade and, given that I hadn't seen my travel partner in quite a long while, I decided to stop for a moment and wait for Burma Boy. I leaned up against the tree trunk, wallowing in the shade, and drank the remainder of my now hot water. I started to wonder if I was ever going to make it to Nyunag U which then turned in to am I ever going to make it back to the hotel which then turned into how long should I sit here and wait for Burma Boy? But I was enjoying the rest and the break from the pounding sun and I took a moment to myself - the first one I'd actually taken to slow down and ponder since I'd arrived. I reflected on the fact that I’d made it to this point in both the bike trip and the Burma trip. I took in my surroundings - like really took in where I was in the world. The fact that I was in Burma. Burma, also known as Myanmar. ON a second date. Took in the fact that I was thousands of miles away from everyone I loved, that I’d had no connection with them for days. I took in the fact that this was the first moment I'd given myself to think about the trip without wondering why things weren't going the way I'd thought they might. But in the entire time that I sat there - 20, maybe 30 minutes - I never once said to myself, "Why haven't you told this boy that you think he's been a jerk at times? Why haven't you asked him if things feel as different for him right now as they do for you? Why haven't you asked him where the boy from the emails is?" I know it's hard to believe - especially as I sit here as a 32 year old woman re-reading and reworking this story and going over it again 5 1/2 years later. But I never asked these questions.

I closed my my eyes for a moment and took in the fact that I was going down the pensive road you go down at the end of a trip – and I wasn’t even at the end of this BIKE RIDE, never mind the end of the trip. We weren’t at our destination yet. A few moments passed before I opened my eyes to see Burma Boy standing over me, staring at me in awe.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:56 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Ten Days in Burma - Part 15
Saturday, September 27, 2008

The next morning it was pineapple again and we were off! We had hired a taxi to take us to Mount Popa, a monastery at the top of an old volcano. According to Lonely Planet, it was supposed to be a gorgeous hike with lush greenery and beautiful views.

Insteeeeeeeead it was a climb up approximately 500 stairs with tchochke souvenirs and lots of wild monkeys roaming. My favorite part was the "toilet for foreigners" where they asked us to pay to pee in a hole in the ground.

We took the taxi back into town to rent some more bikes. At this point my hunger was at levels I didn’t know existed. I told Burma Boy I was famished and needed to eat immediately. I guess immediately to him meant riding our bikes for 15 minutes to find someplace when there were restaurants RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. Why, you might ask, didn’t I say “I MEAN NOW!”? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’ve actually asked myself that question on more than one occasion over the years as I’ve replayed this trip in my head. What was I afraid of? Why didn’t I throw down and say, “I’m NOT getting on a bike. I’m not going to look at something else. What part of ‘I AM FAMISHED’ do you not understand?” But…I didn’t.

After I had exerted every last ounce of energy left in my body, we finally found a restaurant and I made the HUGE mistake of deciding to order spaghetti pomodoro. I thought to myself, “How is it possible to screw up spaghetti and tomato sauce?” Well the answer is, we were in Burma. VERY EASY. When they brought out my noodles covered in red oil, I took one bite and literally almost threw up. Truly. Not like an expression “Oh my God, I’m going to throw up.” I actually gagged. It felt and tasted like I had worms crawling around my mouth. In truth, worms might have tasted better. Of course, Burma Boy tasted my lunch and insisted it wasn’t “that bad.” So when he offered me his veggie fried rice, I didn’t think twice. If it wasn’t that bad, HE could eat worms in red oil! Of course he made a point of ordering himself another veggie fried rice and he did indeed finish both his and mine - but I think he was just trying to prove how “not bad” the spaghetti was. The only point he proved to me was that he was stubborn. I ate a bit of veggie fried rice, but found it was becoming harder and harder for me to eat, no matter what the food tasted like.

With a small amount of energy in my system, we headed off on our adventure to find the cave temples. We rode our bikes at 1 PM in 110 degree weather. As we entered a small village off the main road, Burma Boy stopped to ask a local how to get to the caves. Standing in his boat, Mr. Local informed us the cave temples weren’t possible to get to by bike, but that he would be happy to give us a lift in his boat. Perfect! Sounded relaxing and lovely! And I wouldn’t have to exert any of the energy that I clearly needed to conserve. But guess what??? Shockingly, Burma Boy was convinced we were being duped by people who just wanted our money. So off on our bikes we went, even though we had JUST been told that the place we were going wasn’t accessible by bike. As I rode through goats and pigs and what felt like quicksand, I thought to myself, “No one, and I mean NO ONE, is going to believe me when I tell them I am doing this.” I mean, I’m an active girl, but goats? On vacation? Not so much. Oh yeah, I forgot, I wasn’t on vacation. I was in HELL!!!

We rode as far as possible, and then started to hike up the side of a hill. At the top of the hill, I looked down at my sweat-drenched, dirt covered body, and felt my heart pounding so hard, I was sure that it could be seen through my skin and my shirt. Now I know I can be dramatic, but I was seriously in danger of heatstroke. PLUS, we still had to ride our bikes back to the hotel since we had rented them for the next two days. I looked at the temple in the distance and told Burma Boy to go on without me because I'd rather see his pictures than attempt to go with him and have him have to carry me back. I made my way down the hill (which was feeling more like a mountain) and sat under a tree waiting for him.

I know it doesn't look far. It was. While I attempted to catch my breath I found myself wondering what I had truly expected from this trip. Do all girls create a movie in their minds? In my movie, Burma Boy would have doled out cash for a boat. In fact, he would have paid a local to grab a few beers to take with us on them. We would have enjoyed the river breeze and laughed and maybe even kissed a few times (which I was pretty sure we hadn’t done since I arrived). We would have pulled up on the bank and the boat would have waited for us as we frolicked in the cave temples and perhaps we would have even found a secluded place to – SCREEECH. I was jolted back to reality as Burma Boy descended down the hill from his adventure to the temple (which he admitted was underwhelming,) and we biked back to the hotel which took at least an hour. My legs were jello and the bicycle seat felt like it was situated UP my ass. But I started repeating to myself over and over, "Just keep going, just keep going, don't stop, don’t stop. Just keep going, just keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop…” I repeated my new mantra over and over and over and over, not yet realizing that it would carry me through this trip and many moments after. I didn’t think about anything else…and an hour later, I found myself back at the hotel. As I sat on the floor of the shower with the water running over my head, I thought to myself, “This is definitely NOT vacation.” Not only was I traveling, but I was traveling with a super athlete haggling man. Oy vey.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:37 PM 2 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Ten Days in Burma - Part 14
Thursday, September 25, 2008

The sun crept in the windows the next morning and I sat up in bed feeling refreshed and ready for Bagan. Yesterday had just been a bad day. We were both exhausted from a long day of traveling. The magic of that first night was going to resurface at any moment. I was sure of it.

We stepped out on the patio to enjoy breakfast overlooking the river. Unfortunately, breakfast didn't prove to be any more enticing to my taste buds. Nothing looked like real food…not the strawberry tang or the hard-as-rocks “rolls” or the “butter” that most certainly was not. I tried. I truly, truly tried. I mean I literally think I tried everything that wasn’t meat-based that was out on the buffet. But in the end, pineapple was going to have to suffice for breakfast.

We set off in the pounding sun to explore the temples of Old Bagan. Despite the fact that all the books said that the best way to see the temples was by renting bikes or a horse drawn carriage (and I knew this because of the Lonely Planet guide that he had sent to me), Burma Boy insisted we walk. He claimed that his good friends had just been to Burma a few months earlier and they had walked everywhere their first day. (I later found out this was not true at all. We met up with said friends in Thailand for dinner and when I told them that we’d unsuccessfully attempted to walk to the temples, their jaws dropped to the ground claiming they would NEVER in a million years have told us to walk – the pounding sun, the distance…NEVER. Hmmm. Interesting.)

In addition to my questioning whether or not we should walk, the Israeli couple I met while drinking honeydew juice (yay! More nourishment!!) told me we were crazy to try to walk. When I shared this newfound information with Burma Boy, he told me (once again) that we were ALL wrong. Burma Boy had his heart set on walking. Soooo…we walked.

About 20 minutes after we embarked on our adventure, we arrived at our first temple, sweat-soaked, parched, and exhausted. From 20 minutes of walking. This was because it was about 110 degrees out. Dry heat. And we walked on pavement. With dust swirling around us from the cars that drove by and LAUGHED at us.

Upon arrival, a miracle occurred. Burma Boy finally agreed that perhaps I had been right and walking wasn’t the way to go. We stopped for a few liters of water and an orange fantasy soda which I literally had to force down my throat to replenish our sugar levels. Then we ventured in.

You hear the word temple and you tend to think sacred, peaceful, holy. So I was shocked to find random people sleeping strewn all over the floors at every turn. The temples are cool and dark inside, a good 30 degrees cooler without the pounding sun, so that’s where they go to relax. As I began to explore I saw animals everywhere, also escaping from the heat. This temple was basically acting as an icebox and a tourist trap. Little Burmese children began following us trying to get money or lipstick or pins. The little pitter patter of bare feet on slate followed my every step with, “You so pretty. You have lipstick for me?? You have Canada pin?” Oh yes – Burma Boy insisted we tell everyone we were Canadian because apparently, Americans aren’t looked upon so fondly. (Apparently, because of disrespectful people like me.) At first, it seemed adorable, and I smiled and laughed, but by the 500^th time they asked me, I wanted to look at them and say, “No kid. No, I don’t have lipstick to give you. It’s 112 degrees and I’m wearing shorts and a tank top with sweat dripping down my face. I’m not wearing any lipstick, let alone carrying it. So can I please look at your temples in PEACE?!?!”

When we were finished, it was apparent that Burma Boy had truly come to his senses and we hired little rickshaws to take us back to our hotel for bikes. Along the way we stopped for food and FINALLY I found something that I could stomach - fried noodles and vegetables. As I slid the noodles through my smiling lips, I felt like a queen eating the most amazing gourmet meal I've ever eaten. I had nourishment. I was happy.

After lunch, we got our bikes and ventured out to see some more temples for the afternoon. Things were starting to feel a little better. And while I wasn’t feeling completely like myself, I knew that we had made some progress. We’d taken some fun pictures, managed to enjoy each other’s company. We rode up dirt roads to temples after temple. Some were beautiful, some were decrepit and smelly.

We ended our day watching the sunset at the top of one. We climbed the stairs and looked out over the stupa (stupa=temple) filled land. The temples glittered like pieces of gold in the distance from the sun reflecting off of them. There were young, adorable monks running around. And there were tourists there to see what was supposed to be one of the most beautiful sunsets in all of Burma. None of them were American – that was easy to tell.

As I looked out over the land, watching the sun go down, I was overwhelmed with confusion. This was the kind of sunset that I was supposed to share with someone that I knew, with someone that I loved. And not even necessarily in love with – but someone that I cared for deeply, be it my family or closest friends or one day, someone that I was in love with. It was Monday and I was thousands and thousands of miles away from all of those people with no means of communication. And I wasn’t even close to falling in love. Had I truly expected to? While I knew that love was a romantic fairytale, I certainly thought I’d be a hell of a lot closer than I was. My movie hadn’t included vacationing with the biggest haggler on the face of the universe. And then it hit me - I wasn’t vacationing at all. I was traveling. And they are two completely different things.

The sun set on Bagan, and we rode our bikes back to the hotel, agreeing (finally) that bikes were definitely the key to getting around. We stopped at a little hut for noodles again for dinner, however this time, even Burma Boy couldn’t stomach the food. We didn’t want to insult the owners (as we all know by now, that would be disrespectful), so we asked for our dinner “to go”. In Burma, “to go” means sliding the food off of the plate directly into a plastic bag. Five minutes later, we slid those bags into the garbage, and I slid into bed. I passed out almost immediately.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:25 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Road Rage
Wednesday, September 24, 2008

I.

HATE.

DRIVING in LA.

Hate is not a word I use lightly. It's a very strong word. It's an ugly word. I don't like to be a person who hates. Ever. It's not healthy for a person to hate...it takes too much energy. And the truth is that I don't actually think I hate driving in LA as much as I hate DRIVERS in LA. But I DO hate drivers in LA.

Lately I've felt road rage at uncanny levels. It just happens. I'm driving along, minding my own business, listening to NPR when some total and complete ASS turns me into a hater. It's not even in my control. My blood pressure skyrockets, my face turns red, I feel my body getting hot and I want to SCREAAAAAAAAAAAM at the moron/jackass/idiot/stupidfreakingLOSER who must be so miserable in his or her life (and I don't mean to discriminate, but I've noticed that they are often of the male persuasion) that he doesn't have the wherewithal to let a person who has been clearly signaling into their lane. When traffic is barely moving. And there is a space. In fact, some of these imbeciles seem to speed up the second you start to pull into their lane and then lay on the horn as though you are endangering the lives of others and pulling into a lane where people are going 60 miles an hour when in fact they are going a whopping 10 miles an hour and can easily slow down to 7 or 8 when they see another car needs to make their way in. Why? Why would a person be such an ASS????? (and yes, I know I've already used that word on SEVERAL occasions but there's really no better description for this kind of human being.)

I can't possibly do justice to the scenarios I've encountered so I'm not going to try. But there have been far too many of them. I have found myself feeling road rage on a daily basis. Perhaps it's has to do with the fact that the TV season is up and running and I'm not just driving to work but also to breakfasts with agents and from studio to studio to visit sets. I'm in the car more. Which I suppose, gives me more opportunities to be around jerky drivers.

I miss the days of walking 10 blocks to a meeting. Even if it was 20 below and raining. I felt more secure that I wasn't going to be hit by some jerk as I weaved my way around the crazy cab drivers of NYC than I do on the roads of LA. And while I occasionally got annoyed with the tourist-y pedestrian traffic of Times Square, I'd take it over the losers on the 101 any day.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:53 PM 1 comments    

Labels: driving, LA rant, laws of the road

10 Days - Part 13!!!!!
Friday, September 19, 2008

After the bargaining concluded, we were taken to pick up our plane tickets in the center of Yangon, the capital of Burma. On that ride, I got my first true taste of a third world country: buses packed with bodies like sardines, people sitting on TOP of the bus and hanging off the back, cars that looked liked they were from the 1930’s that traveled no faster than 30 miles an hour, women carrying baskets on their heads. Everywhere I looked the sights and sounds were new to me.

Before we picked up our plane tickets, we were taken to see the reclining Budhha, a beautiful, gargantuan statue that is so large that it I have yet to find an image of it that can capture the entire statue.

Then we went and had a traditional Burmese lunch. I looked at the spread of food on our table. It sat in pools and pools of oil. I didn't recognize any of the vegetables and I didn’t trust the fish. As I cautiously tried a small (and I mean MINISCULE) amount of most things on the table, I realized that if this was traditional Burmese food, I was going to have a very hungry trip. I drank a lot of water and moved the food around on my plate. I had been told I was rude for being loud in the airport. I didn’t want to risk that again.

We were told we had to pay for our plane tickets in FEC (the government’s money.) Since we’d practiced our bargaining skills and hadn’t exchanged enough FEC, we went back to the airport to exchange more money and get our flight. Burma Boy proceeded to spend 45 minutes debating with the government about the fact that they wouldn't let him exchange his Hong Kong dollars for FEC. The government only wanted US dollars even though the Burmese embassy in Hong Kong told him he could use Hong Kong dollars. Burma Boy was not just a bargainer. He was what he would call a fighter. I would call it relentless and stubborn. I would call it a pain in the ass. After about 5 minutes, it became clear to me that he was going to spend quite a long time defying the government officials in this country known for its oppression, and I had to walk away. I had to walk away because I wanted to yell at him that we were going to miss our flight. I had to walk away because I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t the smartest idea to argue with government officials in a third world country where people were known to disappear. I had to walk away because if he did get thrown in jail, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be around to get dragged in with him! An hour later, Burma Boy lost his battle to use Hong Kong dollars but was allowed to use his credit card. We exchanged the money and went to wait for our flight.

I'd had about 2 hours of sleep in the past 40 hours and very little food. I was starting to get a little delirious. While we waited for the plane, I put my head in Burma Boy’s lap and my feet up on the airport bench. According to Burma Boy, having my feet on the airport bench was disrespectful. That was the last thing I wanted to be so I quickly removed them, although I found it interesting that putting my feet up on an airport bench was disrespectful while arguing with government officials for 45 minutes was completely fine.

We finally landed in Bagan around 7 PM on Sunday night. We walked out of the airport to several taxi drivers waiting to take us wherever we wanted to go. The taxi drivers quoted us a price of what was equivalent to $3. According to our Lonely Planet, it should have cost usabout $2. Well, clearly this was completely unacceptable. Burma Boy was not going to be jacked because he was a tourist. You'll never guess what he did next...he tried to bargain! But to no avail. Now, I can understand trying to haggle for a few minutes. No one wants to be taken advantage of because they are a foreigner (myself included - unless I’m going on 2 hours sleep and a chocolate croissant and apple juice from breakfast). But after every. single. cab driver said no about 10 times, it was clear that these people weren’t budging. At this moment I realized that Burma Boy and I were EXTREMELY different people. Being that I was going on pretty much ZERO sleep at that point, and that I just wanted to get to a bed, and being that we were in a third world country where $1 meant a HELL of a lot more to those people than it did to me, I would have gotten in the cab and gone without anymore questions. Hell, I would have paid $5 for a ride to a clean room where I could put my head on a pillow. Burma Boy, on the other hand, loved the fight. He refused to pay, told them we would walk. He was not backing down. At this point, I turned to him and told him that he could do whatever the hell he wanted to do but I was getting in a cab and going to the hotel.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he gave in.

When we arrived at our hotel, I felt immediately relieved. We had done well. It was cute and charming, it overlooked the Ayeyarwaddy River, and we had our own little bungalow. It was light and it was clean. I was happy.

We decided to walk to a local place up the street for dinner. At least it’s what they called dinner. I called it HELL. You have to understand, I was famished. I was past the point of low blood sugar, past the point of shaking. I just knew that I needed to get some sort of nourishment into my system. My body clock was all off and the airport shu mai from Japan had long since been utilized for energy by my system. So when the first thing they placed on the table was a bowl of 3 inch long whole fried fish with the eyes staring directly into mine, I lost it.

“Please, can you take those away???” I pleaded with our waiter.

Burma Boy looked at me as though I’d just insulted his mother.

“You’re in a foreign country!” He hissed at me. “You’re being completely disrespectful. This is why people don’t like Americans.”

I stared at him in disbelief for a moment before I started to feel my eyes well up. I immediately averted my gaze down to my empty plate and refused to look up again until I had sufficiently blinked back the tears. I was exhausted and I was hungry and I hadn’t asked anyone to bring me whole fried fish, eyes and all. Perhaps I could have been a bit more polite, but I didn’t think I was disrespectful. And I certainly didn’t need to be scolded. Not by the boy that I had just traveled 18 hours across the country to see. I felt like a 12 year old who’d gotten in trouble with her dad. I found myself trying to calculate the date to know how many more days I had left...It felt as though we'd already been together far too long.

We finished the meal in near silence. I mustered up the strength to eat a few bites of the unidentifiable vegetables and drank a beer, which helped to send me into much needed slumber. Liquid bread had never tasted so good.

We walked back to our “home” and I crawled into bed. I was too tired to ponder, too tired to think. I’m not sure my head even hit the pillow before I fell asleep. I was just grateful to be somewhere where it was acceptable to put my feet up and relax.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:59 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Ten Days in Burma - Part 12
Thursday, September 18, 2008

I slept for 2 hours that night before I had to get up the next morning to go back to the airport. I wasn’t a bit sorry to leave that room and I hoped and prayed that I would never, EVER see it again. Thankfully, the ride back to the airport was much calmer than the previous evening’s had been.

We boarded Thai Air to Burma and I was giddy with excitement again. With the new morning came a feeling of adventure excitement. It felt like we were going on vacation! Our plan of attack was to arrive in Yangon and find a plane to take us to Bagan where we would spend the next 3 days. We didn’t have tickets or a hotel yet, but according to Burma Boy, this was how you traveled in Asia. He was the pro so I listened despite my proclivity towards having things planned out. I figured it would be good for me to learn as I went. I had read my Lonely Planet thoroughly, and I was clear about some of the things I wanted to do and see, the places that sounded good to stay (none of them had dank or dark in the description,) and the restaurants where I might want to eat.

When we deplaned in Yangon, we were checked thoroughly for SARS with a thermometer that looked like one of those mood strips that changes colors depending on the heat of your body. Thankfully, according to the mood strips, both of us were SARS-free. However, I can’t say that I had tremendous faith that everyone else having their temperatures read by a mood-thermometer were also.

I suppose I have ignored the fact that most people don’t have any idea what or where Burma is.

View Larger Map

Burma, now known as Myanmar, is a small country in Asia between Thailand and India. Lonely Planet succinctly describes Burma in the following way: “Since 1988 Myanmar (formerly known as Burma) has been under the military rule of the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC) - an abominable military junta. Prospective travelers should monitor events in Myanmar and weigh up the arguments in support of and opposition to travel.” As you can see, this was not your average vacation spot.

Burma has 2 types of money. One is the official government money, FEC, and in addition to the fact that it’s not a good value, it also helps to support the aforementioned junta. I have learned that FEC’s were since done away with in September of 2003. But in May of 2003, you were required to exchange $200/person FEC the second you stepped into the country. The other type of money, the kyat (pronounced “jet”) is much more cost effective, is used far more widely around the country and supports the local Burmese people rather than the tyrannical government. We – ok, who am I kidding - HE bargained with the man exchanging money so that we only had to exchange the amount of cash required for one person’s entry rather than two. It was impressive. I sort of had no idea what was going on, but that was fine. I was happy to have Burma Boy take care of things and even happier to not have to give our money to the government.

And thus began our trip of bargaining. We went from bargaining about cash to bargaining about plane tickets. We needed to fly up to Bagan, a gorgeous old city filled with hundreds of temples.

Let me preface this next incident by saying that I can be a bit loud. At times, I’m very loud. It’s more of a boisterous, excited, “I love life” sort of loud. My friend, Sharon, came up with a way to let me know when I’m getting loud since it happens so often. She just turns her hand a little bit – like she’s turning down the volume on a radio and simply says, “volume…” It’s perfect. I see that, and I realize it’s possible that I’ve gotten a bit TOO excited about things. And when I get really excited about something, I can get a bit hyper. Burma Boy had some issues with my “excitement.” I wasn’t used to bargaining for plane tickets. I wasn’t calm – I was excited to be in a new place, excited to start our trip, excited to get to our first destination. Needless to say, there were moments when I was loud. But he didn’t come up with a cute little way to tell me. Maybe because he didn’t seem find it cute or endearing at all. Somehow he missed the fact that I was excited and just focused on the part where I was loud. And I was reprimanded. I use that word, because it’s exactly what happened. No warning, no heads-up and most certainly no smile. I felt like I had embarrassed him. It occurred to me at that moment that we were complete strangers, that we had no idea who the person we were traveling with really was…

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:33 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Ten Days in Burma - Part 11
Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Finally, after what felt like hours of wandering through the Bangkok airport, my eyes landed on a familiar face. I stopped for a second. I stared. I smiled. I had found him. We tentatively walked toward each other and he hugged me. I could feel my body shaking against his.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “Just tired.”

Liar. Liar, liar, LIAR. OF COURSE I WAS NERVOUS. I was so nervous I felt like I was going to PUKE. But noooooooo, I had to look good. Calm, cool and collected. God FORBID he should think that perhaps I was HUMAN!!! This was not the movie greeting I had imagined. He did not kiss me passionately and hold me tight like he didn’t want to let me go. All of the feelings that I’d had for the past 45 days - of knowing someone so well, of needing to be with them again – all of those feelings were gone. Vanished into thin air. I felt like I was with a stranger.

We got into a cab with an insane Thai driver who enjoyed turning around to look at us more than the road. I don’t know what he was saying either but he was talking the entire time in a very high pitched voice. I kept smiling, nodding my head and pointing toward the front window where he should be looking. If we’d been in an amusement park on a ride that had safety precautions, it might have been fun. Given that we didn’t even have seat belts, it was not. If I’d had any common sense, I would have closed my eyes so that I didn’t have to see the 50 cars, guard rails, and buildings we almost crashed into. (If I’d had any common sense I wouldn’t have flown to Asia.) But I was overwhelmed with the city around me – the lights whizzing by, the sounds of the Bangkok night. I was here and I wanted to soak in every second of it. Even if it meant seeing how many times our driver missed the guardrail by centimeters.

By the time we got to the motel, I thought I wouldn’t care less what it looked like. I just wanted a place to drop my bags before we got some food and a beer. But when we entered our room, I took immense comfort in the fact that we would only be staying there for the night. It was dark, a little dank, and fairly shady. I’m not a princess but I like nice things. I don’t mind staying in a Marriot Courtyard if I MUST, but I prefer a boutique hotel and a Four Seasons is even better. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t have to be expensive just clean. And nice enough for me to feel comfortable walking on the floor without shoes on. Ok, so maybe I am a little bit of a princess. Is that so wrong?

I found myself wondering where Claire Danes had been taken in that movie that Billy talked about. Whatever, I told myself. Suck it up and stop being such a princess. It was only for a few hours. It was already midnight. Our plane to Yangon left early that morning.

We were staying close to the Red Light district, otherwise known at Pat Pong. This is the place where men line the streets asking if “You want see sexy lady? You want see sexy lady shoot golf balls out of pussy?” No, actually. No, I do not want to see sexy ladies shoot anything out of anywhere, I thought to myself as we were accosted several times on our way to grab some food and a beer. On second thought, how often do you get to see anyone shoot golf balls out of their pussy?

We opted out of the “sexy sexy” bars and went for some pad thai instead. I eased into the booth, ordered my familiar food, and we started to talk. Or rather, we attempted to talk. It was bizarre. If I’m being truly honest, it was painfully uncomfortable. Emailing had been so easy. Our first date had gone so smoothly. But this person whom I’d felt so comfortable with seemed like a complete stranger…perhaps because he was. Conversation was strained. I couldn’t find anything to talk about. And the harder I tried, the more strained it seemed. This was NOT how the movie was supposed to go. How had we had enough to email about at LENGTH for the past 45 days, but we couldn’t manage to get out more than a few words now? I took a deep breath and decided to chalk it up to hunger and exhaustion.

We walked back to the room, took a shower and got into bed. I was in a bed with someone I barely knew. And it felt that way…for both of us.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 2:12 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

10 Days - Part 10
Sunday, September 14, 2008

Note to reader: my mother would like to clarify that in addition to “interrogating” me (which occurred in the last section of this story), my parents also gave me the miles to fly to Thailand. This is true. I have very good parents. Fabulous, in fact. Not to be vilified with “interrogations” in my story.

As the trip got nearer and nearer, the emails got shorter and more logistic. Thursday night before I left, I had a minor anxiety attack having neither spoken to Burma Boy nor received an email from him in a few days. I was literally flying half way around the world and I didn’t know where I was supposed to meet this person. That I had met once. For 12 hours. I didn’t even have a phone number for him. Mix all that up in a cocktail in my head and what do you get? PAAAAAAAAANIC!!! I got very little sleep that night as I stared at my ceiling wondering if I was making a HUGE mistake.

Thankfully, I awoke on Friday morning to an email with instructions as to exactly where in the Bangkok airport I was supposed to meet Burma Boy. The unknown became known and my anxiety subsided. I printed out the email, tucked it safely in my backpack, and headed out to take the subway to JFK. That plan was quickly averted after waiting 15 minutes for the A train and realizing that if there was any sort of issue at all, I was going to miss my flight. So I coughed up 45 bucks and hopped in a cab to the international terminal.

When I boarded my flight to Tokyo, it appeared that I was interrupting an Asian Dental convention. Every single Asian on board was wearing a medical mask to ward off SARS. Although I knew from my extensive research that this did absolutely nothing in helping to prevent transmission of the disease, I wished that I’d packed a few of the dental masks that my father had given me from his supply (see?!?!? Miles and dental masks!!! FABULOUS PARENTS!!) .

When I got to my row, I was elated to find that I had the entire three seats to myself. I set up camp, and attempted to sleep. I had tried to plan everything out perfectly. My flight departed at 1 PM, which was 2 AM in Thailand, so I took 2 Benadryl (sadly, this was pre-days of Ambien) immediately in hopes that I could somehow get myself on the time schedule I was going to have for the next 10 days. I dosed on and off for a few hours. But I would hardly call what I did sleeping. I didn’t eat much on the plane. They clearly catered to their Asian passengers. And Asian airplane food?? Not so much. I watched a few movies, started a book and tried to keep my mind off the fact that I barely knew the boy I was going to see.

We landed in Tokyo 14 hours later. I was now in Asia. As I got off the plane, it hit me that I had officially lost my mind. Those initial moments in the Tokyo airport were some of the loneliest moments I can remember ever having in my life. Everything around me was foreign. Nothing was familiar – not the sounds I heard, not the language being spoken, or the smells of the airport food. I had never been to a foreign country that didn’t speak English. Now I was receiving a harsh crash course in being foreign in a foreign land. I felt foreign. But it wasn’t just that. I think that if I’d been intending to travel on my own, I would have had a bigger sense of adventure at this point. Or if I’d known the person that I was meeting on the other end. But it was hitting me and it was hitting me hard that I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

I had been hoping to get some sushi in the airport, but instead there was only fast food - Japanese style. I stood staring at the menu of gibberish and found myself with a newfound respect for all the foreigners who make their way through the United States on a daily basis without understanding a word of English. Welcome to the real world Michelle. I ordered shu-mai and water. I thought I was ordering shrimp. I can say with complete certainty that what I ate was most definitely NOT shrimp. But I was famished and I didn’t have a whole lot of choice. I forced myself to forget about the fact that I didn’t know exactly what I was putting in my mouth and I just ate. The noodle wrapped dumplings looked familiar enough – even if the taste wasn’t.

After “dinner” (or whatever meal I was eating – I had no idea what time it was,) I went to the bathroom. I washed my face. I washed my face again. I stared at myself in the mirror trying to wake myself up, trying to convince myself that making this trip was NOT the most moronic thing I had ever done in my entire life, trying to tell myself that this was the adventure I had asked for, the adventure I had been waiting for. I was unsuccessful on all accounts.

I walked back to my gate and waited. I listened to the sounds of mothers soothing crying babies. I listened to the sound of flights being called for final departure. I listened for anything that sounded remotely familiar. I listened for comfort.

When we finally boarded the plane for Thailand, I collapsed into my seat with exhaustion. I had already been flying for 14 hours. But the 3 hour plane ride to Bangkok felt far longer than the 14 hour ride to Tokyo had been. I tried to sleep, I tried to read, I tried to write in my journal, but my nerves had completely taken over my body. I think the closest thing I came to doing was throwing up. Thankfully, I managed not to.

When the plane finally landed, and I stood up, I was shaking from head to toe. Like, visibly shaking. I fished the email out of my back pack and began my descent to the “big hall,” as Burma Boy had described the place I was to meet him. It was the longest walk of my life. I followed the instructions that had been given to me and I kept reminding myself not to have expectations, to be open minded, that no matter what happened, even if I ended up being by myself for some reason, I was going to be just fine. I told myself this over and over. I did not believe it, but I kept repeating the words. As I walked through the hall full of foreigners, my eyes peeled the crowd for the boy I’d met a month and a half ago for a single night. I felt like I was 8 again, a child separated from their parent hoping, praying that they’ll find a friendly face in a sea of unfamiliar. The movie in my mind was in slow motion, following my every glance. I could hear my heart pounding in my head.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 11:57 AM 2 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

10 Days - Part 9
Thursday, September 11, 2008

After a few more days of contemplation and a few more opinions from most everyone I knew, I did, indeed, decide to seize my Meg Ryan moment. In my heart, I had known all along that despite the war and despite SARS and despite the fact that it was INSANE, I was going to go. The whole thing was playing out as a movie in my head…every step of the way. I pictured our reunion in the airport – the music swelling as our eyes met, passionately kissing, completely unaware of the people around us. I anticipated sharing romantic dinners complete with perfect sunsets and days of sightseeing and holding hands. I went so far as to imagine the story that would be told at our wedding of how we met. I told you - I have an active imagination…

Although I was trying to embrace my adventurous side, I knew Burma Boy had me beat in that department when he asked if we could travel through Hong Kong and Shanghai. What’s so adventurous about that? It was smack dab in the middle of the SARS epidemic. I was trying to be adventurous – not stupid. After several anxious hours trying to figure out whether or not I should just call the whole thing off, I wrote Burma Boy that, while China was a country I’d love to see someday, that day would have to be when it wasn’t being featured nightly on the news for a deadly disease with no cure. I eagerly (also read anxiously) awaited his reply, knowing that the person that I should take the effort to go visit would understand my concerns and tell me that we could do something different. If he wasn’t open to doing things differently, I knew I wouldn’t go. After all, I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone who was completely set in their ways and didn’t take my needs into consideration. (Yes, I was getting way ahead of myself…but if you’ll recall, I had already started thinking about the speeches at our wedding. So how does this surprise you?) So why was I anxious if I had already decided what I was going to do? Well, I really wanted to go…so I WANTED his answer to be the one I hoped for.

I was not disappointed when he suggested that instead of China, I could fly into Thailand and that we would go to…you guessed it…Burma! for a few days and then finish in Phuket for some rest and relaxation. Along with the fact that both countries had fewer outbreaks of SARS than the US, I was just happy that my future husband did have some flexibility in his nature.

Despite the fact that he’d thought it might be otherwise, the air force base in the Philippines where Burma Boy was learning to fly was internet friendly, and I received daily emails from him. We wrote about how much we missed each other – and how odd that seemed to us. At the time, I thought I was truly missing someone with all my soul. As it turned out, I had no idea what that felt like yet.

I spent several days plotting how to break the news to my parents that I was going to Asia “to see about a boy”. A boy whom I’d failed to even mention to them. Though they took it better than I expected, they were obviously taken aback and bombarded me with fifty million questions.

How did you meet him? Mutual friend lie. Also lied and said we’d been on a “couple” of dates.

What does he do? Easy. He’s an investment banker in business school in Japan.

What do you like about him? What do I like about him? He makes me laugh…and he’s adventurous…and smart…and… I just need to know.

It helped that he was Jewish (a fact they did not know – given that they didn’t have full disclosure about how we met.) And despite their trepidation, they believed that I was responsible and had a good head on my shoulders. (Clearly they had NO idea…) I booked my ticket.

Approximately 15 days before I was set to fly halfway around the world for my highly anticipated second date, I spent Passover in NYC at my Jewish home-away-from-home. In 2001, I had been invited by my friend, Lisa, to Rosh Hashannah dinner at her soon to be in-laws house. I accepted and was there for many Jewish holidays thereafter. The entire family truly became my home away from home. In addition to Lisa’s future husband, they had another son – we’ll call him Long Distance Boy. Lisa had suggested quite early on in our friendship that I should meet him - she just thought we would click. Initially, I thought Lisa meant for us to be friends, but as I heard more and more about Long Distance Boy from everyone in the family, I realized that, despite the fact that he lived in Los Angeles and I lived in NYC, no one intended for us to be friends. I was intrigued.

In April 2002, I finally met Long Distance Boy at a bar after Lisa and David’s rehearsal dinner. I was standing with a group of people when I felt an arm around my waist and heard someone say, “Who are you? You’re the cutest girl here.”

I turned my head to find myself face to face with an absolutely adorable boy. I knew it was him immediately from the pictures I’d seen all over his parent’s house. I was certain that he’d been told about me but Lisa later explained that if anyone had so much as mentioned me, he would have had zero interest. And they clearly hadn’t mentioned me, because he did. Long Distance Boy flirted incessantly all evening. He gave me his number and told me to call him when I was in LA in a couple months. I did, but we never quite managed to connect.

I didn’t see Long Distance Boy for an entire year but I heard about him through Lisa often. I had thought about him often as well…until Burma Boy. For the entire month leading up to Passover, I didn’t think about him once. Until I got to Passover and there he was. And he looked great. I’d had no idea he was going to be there. And did I mention he looked great? I found myself nervous around him. Excited nervous. Long Distance Boy walked me home that night on his way to go meet a friend. And for the first time in a month, from the time I saw him that evening until he left me at my doorstep, I forgot about Burma Boy and the fact that I was getting on a plane in 15 days to be with him. In fact, I forgot about it for the rest of the night as I contemplated our ambiguous conversation about long distance relationships. Was this a stomach flip?

But Long Distance Boy did leave me on my doorstep with a kiss on the cheek, and the next morning I woke ready to plan my trip again. I got my visa and I consulted my Lonely Planet guide that Burma Boy had so sweetly and thoughtfully sent to me. We loosely planned our trip via email - where we would go and when. We didn’t make concrete plans, but that was ok. Burma Boy had spent so much time in Asia, that I was happy to let him take charge.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:00 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Upon the closing of RENT
Tuesday, September 9, 2008

ed note: I wrote this two days ago but I needed to sit with it for a moment. RENT closed on
Sunday, September 7 after 5,124 performances on Broadway.

I watched RENT for the first time on the Tony Awards in the spring of 1996 - my Junior year of college. I was awe-struck and overwhelmed by the innovation and excitement I was seeing on stage. I knew I was seeing something new, something life changing. I felt like I was going to jump up and start dancing as they performed "La Vie Boheme". I didn't care what or how - I had to get to New York to see the show. And that fall, after I'd already memorized the entire album (and consequently had driven my Senior Year roommates absolutely mad - it was the only thing I listened to. Ever.) one of my best friends and I went to NYC for my 21st birthday to see RENT.

I saw the show at least 7 or 8 times in next 7 years. Sometimes I was madly in love with it and sometimes I was underwhelmed. That's the joy of live theater - you never get the same thing twice. But no matter how much I loved that particular show or not, I always left that theater inspired and fully and completely alive. Like tingling. From head to toe.

8 years after I watched those Tony Awards, I went to work for the men responsible for bringing the show to Broadway. I sat in the audience again during a particularly impressive performance and once again, I was awestruck. I felt the magic of what good theatre does. I felt like absolutely anything was possible. La Vie Boheme.

And last night, as the curtain came down on a show that changed my life in so many more ways than I ever could have possibly imagined, I was not in NYC to witness it or to celebrate it. But I thought about it.

I thought about Seasons of Love and how much I've been reflecting on it lately without even realizing it.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:01 PM 1 comments    

Labels: homesick, introspection, musings on life, nostalgia, NYC

10 Days - Part 8
Saturday, September 6, 2008

March of 2003 was a funny time. The war in Iraq had started and everyone seemed to feel lonely, scared, and completely unsure of what was going to happen next. It seemed like a time to be overly cautious and at the same time, to live life no holds barred.

The war started the night that we opened Avenue Q Off-Broadway. We got rave reviews and began discussions of a transfer to Broadway AT the opening night party afterward. But it was hard to celebrate fully when we got the news that we had just attacked Iraq. We raised our glasses to the closing song and said outloud, "Everything in life is only for now." I stumbled home after far too many glasses of red wine - a few to celebrate, a few to drown my fear of the world we were living in - and sat down at the computer. I just wanted Burma Boy to be here. I wanted him to be at the opening with me. I wanted to curl up on the couch with him and talk about the craziness of the world.

are you sure you don't want to fly back one day soon to kiss me for a few hours? is it possible to miss someone you don't even really know?

m

Which was truly how I felt. I felt connected to this person…immensely. And yet, I was aware of the fact that I barely knew him. Still, at times I felt like there was more revealed in our writing than could ever possibly be revealed in person. A true romantic…

Part of what was so amazing about the emails was how they made me think and question – about life, about the world, about myself.

Burma Boy wanted to know what made me “tick...”

what makes me tick? am i supposed to tell you that? or are you supposed to find out for yourself?

m

He responded:

I think you’re right. i'd rather figure out what makes you tick myself...i mean...i have a couple months on my hands...[make mental note to self: come visit asia....come visit asia]

And with that, I began to obsess over taking a trip to Asia. I kept saying that I wanted more adventure. What did I have to lose?

Since at that time, I was completely incapable of trusting any decision I made on my own, I started asking the opinion of literally every. single. person. I knew.

I have contemplated the idea of coming to asia everyday since you left. My most rational friend marnie irrationally thinks I should come. My most adventurous best friend sharon rationally thinks I’m insane. I don’t know what I think. Here’s the thing. there’s definitely something between us – but we only spent 12 hours together. One night. What if I got all the way to ASIA and it wasn’t there anymore? For whatever reason - what if you didn’t like me, I didn’t like you, we didn’t like each other? That would be a problem. And I don’t have any friends in asia to go stay with…

then there’s the part of me that is pretty sure that’s not going to happen - that we would have an amazing week. But I don’t know…

Being the consummate adventurer, Burma Boy was taking a month in the Philippines to get his pilot’s license before he started school in Japan. He wasn’t sure if he’d have email access while he was there, so he sent me the following email before he left:

baby doll,

one parting thought before i have to run...
get your arse over here...
why don’t you try and plan for May -- we can do Burma or something interesting...

i'm most likely out of Hong Kong this saturday and will be heading down to Philippines…don't know about the internet set-up there so you may be getting a bunch or postcards...

How do you spell your last name? Funny, don't even know how to spell your last name.

kiss kiss

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME????

I emailed my friends. What do I do? What do I DOOOO? It was crazy to think about going – there was a war going on, a disease with no cure, HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW MY LAST NAME!!! But I was starting to feel like that was all the more reason to take risks, to live life, to find out what could be. I’d never been a big risk taker. My tendency was to play it safe, to stick with things that were planned. But everything I was drawn to in my life involved risk. My fear of the unknown, my control freak nature were all keeping me safe. But I knew that my tendency toward safety was part of what was holding me back from taking the leap toward a lot of the things that I wanted to do, that I dreamed of having and of living. I was never going to be fully satisfied in my life if I stayed that way. In order to gain big, I had to risk big. Maybe this was the time to start...

From my friend Sandy:
GO

Uch, I love your life.

From my friend Lisa:
oh my god!!! I love it, it sounds as if you guys have been together for months already!! I don't think you are crazy, if I got that e-mail I would probably go too. Did you mention anything about him coming back to new york first?? b/c I would definitely try that first, although you have to go with your gut.

From my friend Kelly:
we must discuss

when? for how long?

agreed you only live once and really, how horrible could it be? but at the same time, i'm a little hesitant.

From my older, wiser friend Billy:
sweetie,

you are in your twenties - if ever there was a time to get on a plane and travel halfway around the world to find out if this guy is "the one" this is it. It would be nice if he would pay the air fare. But its not about the air fare, it’s about you and the right guy.

It would be silly not to go and 6 months from now he comes back and you're kinda seeing someone so it’s not convenient. Strike while the iron is hot.

The worst that can happen other than what happened in that Claire Danes movie - (ed note: he’s referring to “Brokedown Palace” where she goes to Thailand on vacation and is arrested for drug smuggling. Yeah…that would suck) - is that you get five days in an exotic place halfway around the world. The best thing that can happen is that you get 5 days in an exotic place halfway around the world and you find out he's the guy of your dreams.

I think this is a Meg Ryan moment and you should seize it.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:56 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

10 Days - Part 7
Thursday, September 4, 2008

I got home later that day to a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. The card read:

dear shell,
i had the most amazing time last nite and I hope the music doesn’t stop on this one.
kiss kiss.

It was official. I liked him. After smelling the roses about 50 million times and dancing around my apartment, elated that not ONLY was he NOT a serial killer, he also wasn’t an ASS, I sat down and wrote him the following email:

i have no idea when you'll get this as you said you won't be on email for a while. i'm hoping that was an excuse for me to give you my address so you could send me flowers...

i had an amazing night last night. thank you. let me know when you get settled far, far away. and i expect to receive sand from the beaches of thailand shortly...

m

The very next day, I got the following:

hi,

yeah, that was an excuse to get your address from you. sort of psychoish at the time, i know, but i didn't want to snoop around your apt. for mail...if you caught me that would have been even more psychoish and difficult to explain. At least the, "i won't have email" sort of made for a good story, yet made me look so desperate and hard-up for a good chick. i have to jump now, but i'll keep emailing and sending sand. Who knows, maybe you'll get so pumped up to laugh for 5 hrs straight that you'll want to come visit Hong Kong or something.

I'm there until early May, when i move over to Japan for school. I'm really a normal guy, so if it seems like i'm going way overboard (or ahead of myself) i'm not (even though I am) it is just when things spark, things spark; i guess we have to take from life what it gives us and maybe, some things, life expects us to follow-up. Well, we shall see what happens --and if things are still cool between now and say April or whenever -- and you want to travel a bit -- i would help pay for your flight out here (-- (i would pay for the whole thing, but I have a rule, i can't pay for airline tickets in full unless i have known that person for longer than 3 weeks and 7 secs, but the offer is out there). but like i said, i'm way in front of the train. Keep it in the back of your mind. get some sleep.

Ummmmmmmmmm. SERIOUSLY???? I stared at my computer. I closed my email and opened it again to see if it was still there. And every time, the email said the same thing. The whole thing wasn’t a drunken dream! The spark was mutual!! He wanted me to come to ASIA!

He wanted me to come to Asia?!?!??!!

He wanted me to come to Asia…I couldn’t help but start to ponder the idea.

We continued to email:

don't catch that hong kong pneumonia that everyone is dying from please. that would ruin everything.

m

I mean, SARS would truly ruin the relationship.

oh yeah, about me keeling over from the hong kong pneumonia thing...impossible...because it is in the cards that we were meant to die together (or at least after 80 years of hanging out)...

This was truly my life. I was actually getting these emails and not watching some chick flick where it was happening to someone else. It was me. It was happening to ME!! Not Carrie Bradshaw. MEEEEEEEEEEE.

It very quickly got to a point where I couldn’t think of anyone but Burma Boy. In fact, I didn’t do much else BUT think of Burma Boy. Day in, day out, I thought about Burma Boy. I couldn’t wait for his next email. And I couldn’t possibly think about DATING anyone else…what was I going to do? He was gone for SIX months…in ASIA!

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:36 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

I heart Jon Stewart

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:18 PM 0 comments    

Labels: it's always dumb to talk politics

10 Days - Part 6
Wednesday, September 3, 2008

As we settled into the cab, I thought to myself, “What the HELL is wrong with me? I’m going to a hotel with a guy I’ve known for 3 weeks via email and have known in person for 5 hours?”

So instead, I decided it would be safer to take him tooooooo…MY APARTMENT?? I realized just how moronic this was as we lay on the couch kissing to the Buena Vista Social Club soundtrack at 2:30 in the morning. This seems to be a pattern with me. I like to make snap decisions and then regret them HORRIBLY later. And it had happened again.

“You have to go,” I said, meagerly attempting to pry myself away from his lips.

“What?” Please note that he didn’t stop kissing me as he said this.

“You have to go…” Please note that I didn’t stop kissing him either.

“I’ll sleep on your couch. It’s so late sweetheart.”

“I know.” I said, contemplating the words about to come out of my mouth. “But I don’t know you. You could be an ax murderer or a serial rapist. You can’t stay here. I just met you…”

I thought about how proud my mother would be that I’d thought about this AFTER I let him into my apartment.

“I’m none of those things. However, I would kill my sisters if they ever did what you did tonight. Regardless, I’m here and I haven’t killed you. So just let me sleep on the couch.”

I don’t know if it was the sangria, the kissing, or the twinkle in his eye, but I gave in without any more of a fight. And no. He didn’t sleep on the couch.

I woke up the next morning at the very unreasonable hour of 8:30. I had a hair appointment and there was no canceling 2 weeks before your best friend gets married. I woke Burma Boy with a large glass of water and 2 Aleve. I only had to get my hair done. He had to drive back to Boston and get on a plane. To Japan. Before he left, he asked me to write down my address. He informed me that he wouldn’t have email for a while and he wanted to be sure to keep in touch. I didn’t know what to think. I felt confused and tired and possibly also a bit hung-over. Had it been the sangria talking when he told me that he wanted me to come to Asia to visit him? Was I ever really going to hear from this guy again? And what was wrong with me? Why ON EARTH hadn’t I gone to the PLAZA?!?!?!?

Even though I was already running late, I had him leave my apartment first. I didn't need the awkward walk down the street attempting to make conversation to ruin what had been a practically perfect evening. (Perfect would have included The Plaza.)

I left a few minutes later and let the brisk wind hit my face as I walked down 16th Street to take the subway uptown. I was shocked by the fact that I had finally met a fabulous boy who was now going to Asia for 6 months. And yet, I wasn't. Isn't this how it always happened? I felt just like Carrie when she met Burger. The butterflies were there for the guy who turned out to be anything but available. I felt confused. Why did this always happen to me? Why couldn't I feel this way about a boy in my own city who was actually available to me? I was certain I was never going to hear from him again.

I made my way to Bergdorf's to let John Barrett have his way with my hair. I needed someone to make me feel good. I was supposed to feel amazing after a night like the one I'd just had. I didn't. I felt stupid. Why had I bothered?

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:39 PM 1 comments    

Labels: 10 Days in Burma, past, writing exercise, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy