Only Burma sends its ghosts after me, reminding me that even with an eternity to travel, I will never fully appreciate the place it is, nor understand the country it could be.
The tuk tuk bumps down isolated country roads, where children pop up, like fresh produce, from small farms. A chorus of “Hello! Hello!” matches the slap of their bare feet racing after us…
“He who has seen one cathedral ten times has seen something; he who has seen ten cathedrals once has seen but little; and he who has spent half an hour […]
Two winter coats, a pair of boots and a supply of softcover books won my bags an excess weight tag at the Air New Zealand check-in desk. Over-packing is my specialty; but, as […]
An anecdote: Traveling puts us at the mercy of strangers. Especially when stumbling over the barriers of language, minute relationships are built on help – freely given – and gratitude […]
“Do not be afraid,” Kyaw insisted, gesturing at my camera. “You are a guest, it’s ok.” The construction crew of a nearby building paused to watch the repeated flash. It […]
In Burma, guilt used to taste a lot like fermented lemon moonshine. Quench, the local soft drink, came in dusty, recycled bottles; often, filling in space previously labeled for Star […]