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