Returned to the States. Got a job I adore. Moving into a new place very soon..
Thinking about this sunrise over my most complete day in Burma. I took a horse at 4 a.m. to perch atop a temple to view this sunrise. I planned my entire route through the country, which would take me by local transport to the Northwest. I bicycled through the city, enjoyed a caneball match over coffee, found Myanmar music, went to the best dinner I could imagine. There, I was told about a festival starting that evening.
I rode by rented bicycle miles to attended and found myself in the midst of thousands and thousands of locals and a wooden ferris wheel crawling with teenagers; (literally, crawling, climbing) In the night, cheering crowds were thrilled by sports matches, concerts, a dance show attended by hundreds, sitting on the ground, amazed by my camera, fine festival food galore, front row at a match full of men, a womens team(!), rural people gathered in celebration of an annual Buddhist festival.
In the middle of these ruins a huge celebration waged into the night. But I had planned my journey to depart by bus very early in the morning, and though I was high from the thrill of the celebration, I mounted my bicycle from it’s unlocked, unkept parking spot for the long, dark drive home.
On that ride home, I saw death for the first time. Gruesome death. A motorbike crash. A few steps from me. Where there is little medical care. People stood around silently. Not doing anything. There are no cell phones and no hospital to call. Someone beckoned me to “mind the glass,” and I could hardly equate such a warning. A reminder closing the most thrilling, frenzy of a delightful day I could have wished for; this life is a precious thing that can fly in an instant.