Jimmy in Burma

March 3, 2016

Jimmy is backpacking SE Asia and he’s in Burma right now and made it to Htan Sant Village and met the family that hosted me while I was volunteer teaching there! It makes me so happy he was able to find them. I love and miss that family so much!


Life in the Myanmar Village

February 27, 2014

My post yesterday about teaching in Myanmar was quite long and I cut out a large section. Here is the section I cut out, it doesn’t have much flow to it.. I blame the few beers I had while I sat a few weeks ago for nearly 3 hours writing and reflecting on my time in the village. If you are just reading this one, skim back a couple posts as that’s the “meat” of life teaching English in Htan Sant Village, Myanmar. Missing you all lately, getting excited to get onto Sri Lanka in three days as I’ve been stagnant here in Kuala Lumpur for over two weeks:

One day walking into class the teachers came out and said “We go home? no class?” Which was way more English than I had heard them speak to date. Shocked that they were trying to cancel one of the classes when they had me there, I said “No.” They asked me again if they could leave. I could already hear the children’s roar of excitement as they see me approaching and no way am I going to deprive them of class. I tell the two teachers “You can go home, I’m having class”. They gave me a stern face, packed their bags, and left. *IF* this is consistent in the type of education throughout Myanmar, it’s no surprise that there is an alarming lack of literacy and education in the country. Then you have to remember, the teachers themselves were taught in this environment and therefore it’s not necessarily their fault, it’s merely an endless cycle. That day ended up being great. That day I taught animals and really pushed the envelope with “Very Good. Thumbs Up!” Since there were no teachers there, and slightly bc I was frustrated with them, I had the kids standing in their chairs and running around the classroom screaming “Very Good. Thumbs Up!” We had FUN! Then after class one of the most memorable things of my time there occurred. As we left, a handful of the older kids in the school took my hand. They motioned me to follow them and when I headed towards Maung OO’s house they kept requesting by their body language that I come with them. So I obliged and a group of 6 boys guided me to the monastery. At this point, they took me to the chalk board, grabbed the chalk and literally put it in my hand. They pointed at the board and all took a seat and opened up their book. They wanted more English. I was stopped in my tracks, literally speechless as I saw the chalk in my hand and them all sitting, opening their books and pointing at the chalk board. This was at 5 so from 5-sundown I sat and taught them phrases. (I am ___). They were the older kids in the school, roughly 10-12. Everyone in the school is different ages and them being the oldest have the quicker learning level and I assume they were bored with what was taught in class and wanted more. Then since we were at the monastery the little monks came out and we had an additional late, late afternoon session. Then at sundown I went to Maung OO’s house and had my nightly session with whoever wanted to practice. People came from different villages having gotten word that Htan Sant had a teacher. Two thirds of the evenings there was someone new wanting to practice with me. It was great. Very rewarding. They’re so eager to learn! It made for a great day and a very long one. By 9:30 I was exhausted and excused myself to my room where I slept like a baby, tucked underneath many blankets to escape the terrible cold. Life in the village was extremely relaxed. Everyone went along their day without a rush and seemed really happy. It was very basic but it works just fine. One thing I have realized while traveling is it’s extremely easy to project our lives on others and think “these poor people”. For example, looking at these houses one may say, these poor people they don’t have a TV, nor a couch, nor a computer, not this nor that what makes us happy in our lives. The thing is, maybe they don’t want a couch or want a computer or want Facebook or any of these other things we have. They’ve never known them and sometimes ignorance is bliss. Of course there is a very definitive line when it comes to this. This I want to make clear. This doesn’t work in all situations as I have seem more cases in the other direction where they do not have access to humanitarian things like food, water, sanitation and a sturdy shelter. This is when it IS a problem. Thankfully, all of this was not a problem in Htan Sant Village. They had the food, the water, the sturdy homes, etc. No they did not have the TV nor the Internet but at night they all sat around the table drinking tea, talking and laughing. It worked. They appeared happy with their rather simple lives. It was a brilliant, happy little village tucked into the mountainside. This simplicity sometimes appeared as a “difficulty” for my spoiled, Western self. For example, everytime I needed to use the bathroom, basically a hole in a wooden shed, I would walk outside down ~20 steps past the horses to get there. Showering was another ordeal. Being the shower lover I am, I aimed to shower every day after class. It was a 20 minute hike outside the village to a pole sticking out of the ground. I wore a longy, a long male “skirt”, whenever I showered.. And it was cold.. Ice cold. It didn’t help that Htan Sant naturally is cold in general so each shower was rather painful but extremely rewarding due to the dust. The dust and overall particles in the air is something hard to explain. In the homes, school, monastery and outside there is always a haze of dirt and dust flying in the air. It really made me feel quite dirty without doing much. Sometimes I would rub my face with a tissue to find a dark brown mark left on the clothe. Your feet are always dirty and your legs never quite clean. But this is OK, a little dirt won’t hurt. This brings back my previous point, it’s easy to project my custom thinking “oh they have to walk ages to take a shower” and stuff like that. But when it was shower time they all went as a group. They all joked and laughed and it was an event! I’m so thankful I was able to see this viewpoint on things because it can get easily get miss perceived. Their way of life was great. As mentioned, they all moved at a rather slow pace. If class started at 1:00, you better bet no one would show until 1:20. The women tended to the very young ones as the fathers did the manual labor in the fields or did construction throughout the village. Everyone woke up around 5:00am and started their day before sunrise (including hammering at sunrise). Dinner was around 5:00 and bedtime around 9:00-10:00. It was a great rhythm of life. Something’s were shocking to see as well. For example one day in class I see a child playing with a razor blade. Wondering what they were doing with this, they simultaneously took out a pencil and begin sharpening it. This kid was no older than 7 handling a razor blade. Maung OO’s daughter, a 4 year old, also had one in her pencil pouch. A toddler who was learning to walk was handed scissors to play with and was stumbling along the road with scissors in his hand. The children all shared the same sinus infection as nearly all of them had a steady stream of snot as all times. Everyone shared cups in my house, they would ask if I wanted tea and would grab a used cup and rinse it out w a splash of hot tea to clean it before handing me the filled cup. Kids would run around and fall in dry horse manure and get up and wipe their faces. Some kids had the same thanakha (white makeup) for days on end suggesting they haven’t showered. Some things definitely were a shock to see but in the end everything seemed to work out just fine for them. Something also hard to see was the day I told Maung OO that I would be leaving in two days. He knew my time was nearing but when the long haired trekking guide was stopped in the village, I had him translate that I was leaving soon. When he told Maung OO, I saw a look on his face I’ll never forget. He stared into the distance and gazed forward lost in thought. He started taking deep breathes and looked like he was about to burst into tears. He then spoke in Burmese which the trekking guide translated. Maung OO said it was difficult to accept the fact that I was leaving. That I was family and part of the village. That he was forever indebted to me. Maung OO said what I offered his village he will never be able to repay me. He said he was unable to express to me his gratitude. As my visa neared expiration, I knew I had no other choice. It was great to feel their appreciation and I hope they felt mine reciprocated.


Teaching English in Myanmar

February 26, 2014

Last month I was given the opportunity to live high in the mountains in a Palaung Village teaching English. As I woke up that morning, I frantically searched the Internet for lesson plans realizing I had little clue in what I was getting myself into. What do I teach them? How do I teach them? Will there be a translator? How many kids will there be? How long will I teach each day? I began to think I got myself in too deep but then remembered, any help is better than none so I put my worries aside and just decided to roll with it. Waiting for someone to pick me up, I sat in the lobby promptly at 9am, when he was due to arrive. Hours passed and before I knew it was 1:00pm. Thinking they forgot about me (and not wanting to leave the hostel in fear I would miss him), I sat practicing patience. Around 1:15pm, a man came to the door and motioned me to get on his bike. Sitting on his bike I realized I would have to carry my large bag in my back as we were hauling gasoline where I normally would set my bag. Fearful I would fall off backwards from the weight, I decided to empty half of my bag, leaving it in the hostel. As we began the journey we made a quick pit stop and picked up some rice wine (home made alcohol, tastes like bad liquor). The man motioned me to drink up. “So this is how it’s gonna be” I thought. I obliged and had some drinks with him and mounted on the motorbike, feeling quite nice. So off we went up the mountain dirt path winding through valleys and villages until we reached Htan Sant Village (pronounces Tawn Sant). He dropped me off at my host families house and I bid him farewell. I never saw my drinking buddy again. Entering into the house I was greeted by a man named Maung OO (pronounced Mong-Ew) and his beautiful wife Chit La. They had a 4 year old daughter named Kin Tay. His parents, Joe Minh and Em Ai also lived with them. Their house was quite nice. A two story wooden frame with a large upstairs. One thing I realized is how smokey it was inside. The room for cooking had a wood fire inside most of the day and there was not adequate ventilation so the smoke circulated through the house. The cigar and cigarette smoke added to the mix. They walked me upstairs and offered me my own room. They laid a thin padding on the ground and gave me some heavy blankets as it gets extremely cold at night. The village is located in the mountain tops and has roughly 35-50 homes throughout. Their main trade is tea plantation and most of the village men spend their days in the fields. There are horses and oxen regularly wondering through the pathways and their feces is scattered everywhere. Maung OO had about 8 horses right outside his house. I’ll get into life in the village later but now let’s dive into why I am there.. To teach.

As I woke up the first day I wasn’t sure exactly where to go for school. Maung OO, who was supposed to be my translator, mentioned to me that he had to go to the fields and couldn’t accompany me on my first day. I was a tad bit concerned and mentioned to him that I didn’t know where the school was and if he could show me. He said “yes” and I told him I would go to the bathroom and be right back. When I got back, he had already left for the fields. There was a communication error. We had many of these lost in translation moments. So I stood there thinking, “where the heck do I go?!” and soon thereafter the head of the village came and motioned me to follow him. Not being able to speak their language, I couldn’t ask any questions. He took me to the monastery and upon arrival I noticed about 10 monks under the age of 13 peering out at me. He took me to pavilion outside and motioned me to stay. I waited and soon about 10 villagers trickled in one by one. As it turns out, during the morning and early afternoon I would teach the villagers and in the late afternoon I would teach the kids in the school. It was great. One difficulty was some days villagers could make class and others they would have to go to the fields. So if I taught one lesson one day the missed, the next day when they came to class they would be behind. Some would come for just one random day and I would help them as much as I could but in general me just being present and them listening was beneficial even if they didn’t practice speaking much. (sorry this is hard to write because there are so many aspects and it’s impossible to cover every dynamic of what went in. It’s hard to explain it all in words, but I’ll try my best.) The villagers ranged from ages 15-45 and were attentive. They wanted to learn so bad. I would go to each individual having them pronounce the word or answer the question. So the older group, the villagers, really got one on one practice. Usually when I went up to one person, someone else would say the answer to help them out and it was really difficult to get them to be quiet. It was nice they we’re excited and knew the answer but whoever I was talking to wasn’t able to think independently without help. There were a lot of challenges that came about in teaching English that I never realized before. Since Maung OO, my translator spoke extremely little English and came to 20% of the classes, I was on my own. We had one book and no translator. I had to get creative. For example, when practicing “How are you?” “I am fine, thank you”, we practiced each question first. So “How are you” we would say, I dunno, 50 times as a group before each one by one would say it 10-15 times independently. Then afterwards the same with “I am fine, thank you”. Next, time to combine the question with the answer. I would ask the class “How are you?” wanting them to respond with “I am fine, thank you”. But they would repeat the question. So I had to find a way to explain it was a question and an answer and to answer accordingly. Plus, ere was no translation so at first they had no clue WHAT they were even saying. That was one day until Maung OO came the next day and was able to explain what it meant, the question and answer and gave me the words in Burmese to use to explain. So the villagers were during he day.. Next it was time for the school children.. Oh boy, I had no clue what I was in for. As I walk towards the school, without Maung OO, I hear a roar in the distance of the children. I enter the building to see 70 energetic faces, of all ages, suddenly stand tall, arms crossed all looking at me chanting a rather long greeting in unison. I enter the warm welcome into the stagnant, dust filled air and think, “OK, now what next…” I literally had no clue. I was thinking what the hell have I gotten myself into. Here is this village seeking more wisdom than I have to give. Then I remembered, “You’ve got this!” So I say, “Hello!” as loud as I can! And the children, all 70 of them reply, “Hello!” I repeat “Hello” over and over and over as I make my way from one end of the class room and back looking at each one of their precious faces in the eyes and getting acquainted with my new surroundings. Not knowing what to do next, I walk slowing the length again screaming “Hello!” And shaking hands with random ones seeing this reactions. Most were happy, laughing and in a rather goody mood. Few were scared into statuettes and when I approached them became rather timid. I left them alone as I knew they just needed time to warm up. Then next was maybe the funniest part of my entire time. I say, “My name is Justin!” And in unison, the students scream back “My name is Justin!” (!!!) As I reaction I say to myself, “Oh no” and the group of students near me all in unison say “Oh no”.. Hah! Everything I said they mimicked. I tried to say “No wait” and it was replied with “No wait”.. So I had to use hand signals. When they would speak I would give a sign to be quiet and to not speak. This took maybe 7-10 times before all 70 understood to be quiet and to not speak. Whoever got it first would say in Burmese to the rest of the class to be quiet. I kept thinking how in the heck am I going to do this without a book nor a translator. This is impossible. False. It was possible, it was just challenging and completely new to me. After a couple days I got the hang of how to communicate and what ways were effective and what ways were not. Hand motions, facial expressions and noises were the best way to be honest. Whenever I got in a pickle, I naturally would feel frustrated and just had to remember, have fun with it. These kids are all here, smiling and loving life. Who cares if it doesn’t go as planned. So for example, as Kat taught me, repetition is key for learning a new language AND having fun. If there isn’t fun the kids will loose interest. So we would say, for example, “How are you” as a group over and over and over for maybe 3 minutes. I would speed up and slow down as I said it. Sometimes going super fast in a humorous way and the kids would get a good laugh. Then, one by one, I would go through the entire classroom. I would have each child say the phrase three times by themselves for them to practice. Now, how do I keep it fun when going through 70 children one by one? Clapping of course. So after each child we would do a series of claps initiated by me. After I clapped I would pause and so would the kids… Then sometime later I would start clapping again, and again. Then sometimes I would pretend to start clapping and then not, “tricking them” which they thought was hilarious. Then as that died down after a few days I had to think of something new and fresh. I kept saying “very good” to the kids and they would always repeat so I added “two thumbs up” to the end. So “very good, two thumbs up” became a chant we all would say over and over and I would lift both thumbs in the air making goofy faces and the kids loved it! If they learned one this while I was there, it was the phrase, “Very good! Two thumbs up!” 😬 Luckily I saw first hand the children learn way more than just that. As mentioned, a trekking guide was the man who told me about the village. Therefore, a few days during the week, he would arrive in the town at night with a couple Westerners (someone from Europe, North/South America.. Or Australia) who he took on a trek that day and they would spend the night in the village before carrying on the next day. After the second day, as trekkers would arrive at night some of the kids were saying… “Hello, my name is Justin!” to them as they arrived. Yep, still inserting my name but it’s a ground for advancement!.. And it was only day two! The following days there was much improvement, Maung OO was able to assist me in the classroom with the students to explain basic things like when to answer and what the phrases meant I was teaching them. In the late afternoon (3pm-5pm) is when I taught the 70+ kids and I usually left with a slight headache from their screaming voices repeating everything I said. One of the major difficulties was the amount of students I was teaching at once.. Plus they all had different learning levels. Some were 4 while others were 12. It’s impossible to teach them all at once as some would get bored (the material too easy) while others confused (the material too difficult). I wish I could say there was a solution to this but in the end I just had to wing it. I tried to get the young kids one day to color as I practiced “I am happy/sad/hungry/thirsty/cold/hot/etc” with the older kids but it was still a bit of a mess. Then again, that’s just my American standards being projected on the classroom. I wanted everything orderly if you will. Observing the rest of how their day was taught, mine appears to be rather structured in comparison. During the day, when I taught at the monastery with the older villagers, the students afar in the school were running around and didn’t seem to have much class time in general. But this is just an observation. (Recall during the day 9-11am and 1-3pm I was with the older villagers at the monastery and 3-5pm I was at the school with the younger ones.) The time with the older villagers (15-45 yrs old) was way more structured. We went through a LOT of English and they were rather attentive. One difficult thing was “I am/you are/he is/she is”. When I would ask the older villagers “Are you thirsty” they would say “I are thirsty” or “You am thirsty” or even “She am thirsty” when the answer is “I am thirsty”. English is tricky and trying to teach it unveiled complexities never seen before. There were hurdles that popped up everywhere which were tackled in time. The hurdles were endless. Every explanation needed an explanation which also needed an explanation. Luckily we found a Burmese/English book and were able to do some translation. The book was organized horribly but after much searching and time I could find what I was trying to explain 70% of the time. The last day with older villagers I went through everything we had learned and tested each one. Only 5 were able to make it that class but out of each 5 I realized one thing, they were all messing up a lot. I became disheartened and had a moment of self pity thinking I was a horrible teacher which lasted until lunch. Then at lunch, usually I took a nap but this time I sat thinking.. I needed to give myself a break. I had taught them SO much English crammed into 9 days. How could I possibly expect them to remember everything? Even on exams in school, rarely do people score 100%. Shit they were speaking English and OK maybe they forgot to put the “S” on a plural or forgot “Tuesday” during the days of the week but they’ve learned so much! Plus they have their notes to go back on. So I returned that afternoon to the older villagers with a lighter heart. I had Maung OO there to translate my sincere gratitude to them all and thanked them for their hard work. They each one by one told me long phrases in Burmese which were semi translated for me but rather more I was able to see into their eyes and read their body motion to understand that these people were extremely grateful. They all brought me gifts of tea and handed them over to me. Some tried to give money equivalent to $1.00-$4.00 which I kindly did not accept. As I left I could feel their hearts aching as one student looks at me and said in English, “I.. Am.. Sad.” It just about killed me. I nearly lost it. I put cultural customers aside and gave him the biggest hug holding back tears. He was the only student who was able to come everyday to class. His name is Two Ying and he’s adorable. Two days in I went to shake his hand and realized underneath his jacket was a missing arm. He was working near the China border and got it caught in a machine. I was told he is unable to work effectively in the fields and wants to be a trekking guide therefore wants to learn English so he can fulfil his goal. He was there every day. He tried the hardest and put forth the most effort. It sucked saying goodbye. We all grew so close over the past days and then suddenly it was time to go. Leaving the children was no different. I went inside and practiced the normal routine and they all had it down to a T! Then we all went outside and took a group photo. After the photo they went to their assigned seats and I went one by one, taking my time, to shake each of their hands, looking each one of them in their eyes and trying to transpose my sincere gratitude. I got to one of the monks and upon seeing his face my throat got that every familiar ball in it and it was just way harder than expected to leave this kids. At the end, I screamed “WHAT DO WE SAY?!” Which is the trigger for “VERY GOOD! TWO THUMBS UP!” and I signalled them to stand on their chairs and dance and get as loud as possible. And just like that, I turned around walking away as the children’s roar dissipated in the background. Just like that I was closing the door on a very special, short chapter in my life. Something I will never, ever forget as long as I live.


Myanmar Departure

February 11, 2014

…And I’m right back where I started. Got to see the family I first made friends with here in Myanmar. It started and ended with them in Yangon. They told me the framed picture I gave them is hung on their living room wall. Made me extremely happy. This time I brought him colored pencils and two coloring books. The Power Rangers one wasn’t a hit but he Despicable Me 2 Minon tracing book sure was! Onward to back Malaysia tomorrow.. Bittersweet departure from this wonderful country. Myanmar takes the prize, this place is incredible. Don’t wanna leave, but once again, the show must go on


Sunrise in Bagan

February 9, 2014

Today marks the day I start making way to catch my flight out of Myanmar and I couldn’t think of a more memorable way to depart. I awoke in Bagan, a city built in the 12th Century with over ancient 4,000 Buddhist Temples sprawled throughout the vast plains. It was near 5:30am and I was on a quest to climb one of the temples to see the sunrise. As I finally found an e-bike at a reasonable rate, I took off without a map into the dark towards the direction of the temples. The first big temple I saw and climbed, sitting roughly 4-5 stories tall. As I wanted for sunrise I kept anticipating the famous hot air balloons which are to set off at sunrise hovering over the land filled temples. I sat and I waited.. and waited.. and waited. By this time the sky was lit and there were no balloons in sight. In addition, it was so hazy that there wasn’t even The Sun to be seen in the sky. No balloons.. No Sun.. Feeling disappointed, I wondered around the square shaped temple to the opposite side to give thanks to The Maker for my time in Myanmar. As I sit speaking to Him/Her/Them/It, I relived my time over the past 26 days. I gave thanks and sincere gratitude and prayed that the elections next year are the year of liberation from decades of suffering and oppression to these wonderful people. As I came to a finish, I opened my eyes and to the left of me were 10 large, round objects growing upwards amongst the field of temples. There were the balloons. With excitement, I stood and ran to the other side of the temple as fast as I could. As I reached the other side and gazed forward, my body came to a complete stop. As my body stopped, my head kept moving forward (the way it does in films) and as it slung back to an upright position, sitting in front of me so delicately and weightlessly was the Sun in a perfect, floating circle just slightly over the horizon. I was sucker punched by beauty. I felt my chest tighten.. I literally lost my breath and there was a ball in my throat. As I stood on this holy, ancient temple, I stared onward and realized that on the other side were roughly an additional 10 balloons preparing to take flight. The song “Gong” by Sigur Rós was climaxing over my earphones with the violin orchestra exploding and I couldn’t believe what I was experiencing. The hot air balloons danced with the temples for maybe an hour, soaring at different altitudes and some passing directly between the Sun and I. I walked around the temple snapping hundreds of photos while periodically taking time to simply sit, think and stare. I can’t imagine a better way to start my departure as I head back to Yangon to catch my flight out leaving, undeniably, my favorite country I have visited thus far.


Sunset in Bagan

February 8, 2014

Sunset today in Bagan, Myanmar. This place is spectacular. Hundreds and hundreds of ancient temples sprawled out over miles of land in central Myanmar. We were taken around by horse and carriage today to numerous of these bad boys. This place is definitely something special. It has an Angkor Wat type feel but still completely unique in its own way. Bed time now, I’m exhausted. Adios.


Hospitality in Inle Lake

February 5, 2014

The last five days I’ve been in Inle Lake, Myanmar. It is a giant lake in Myanmar where ethnic groups reside. Their homes are accessible by boat, the gardens are small islands on the lake, the schools are surrounded by water and fishing is their main source of food. I’ve been excited to see this place but upon arrival in my boat I remembered the downside of tourism. There were these ethnic, local people living happily once one a lake and suddenly there are thousands of boats filled with foreigners infiltrating their daily lives. I felt like I was invading their personal space as my boat would slowly approach a man peacefully fishing on the lake for tourists to take photos of him like he’s a flipping animal at the zoo. It wasn’t my thing, at all. There’s nowhere for them to go as their on their boat in the middle of the lake. We passed through neighborhoods as women are trying to bathe to have people snapping photos of her. Ugh, I couldn’t stand it. Furthermore, it’s so overran by tourists they take you to these shops all day long where you feel like an asshole when you don’t buy anything. Definitely my least favorite place in Myanmar, by far. Luckily that was only one day, the “main attraction” if you will. The other days were quite pleasant. He first day I was walking around town looking for wifi when I heard “Tea?.. Tea?” I turned around to find a little old lady with betel root, red stained teeth smiling ear to ear holding out a cup of tea in my direction. I really wanted internet but you gotta go with the flow so I obliged and sat down in front of her home. She was so excited I had stopped and pulled up a chair and poured out two different bowls of snacks. She spoke a few words of English but her energy radiated positivity. Her home is literally falling apart as it is on the corner of the road, no larger than my parents garage. Four people loved inside including two growing boys. It sits over a stream that is filled with trash and has a green tint of algae on the top. It was more “in your face” than most poverty I’ve seen this trip. Just like time and time again, these prove to be the happiest people. She pulled out a notebook and showed me the contents. Inside there are short messages written by the hundreds of backpackers who came and had tea with her over the years. She was so proud of his notebook. I read some inside and all were along w lines of “I’m so glad you stopped me today to have tea! you have a wonderful family” etc. each wrote their respective country underneath their names and she searched out the other Americans who sat exactly where I was sitting. Soon thereafter, her husband came back as he is a trekking guide. He is a soft spoken man and sits quietly. It’s apparent she wears the pants in the relationship as he did everything quickly as he was told. My tea never sat unfiltered for more than 15 seconds and when I wasn’t eating she said “Sapa!” Over and over which I gathered means “eat!” Then her two grandsons came by, one seven and one five, who were a ball of energy. They were adorable. I sat there starting at roughly 2:00pm and before I knew it was 5:00 and he sun was going down. I knew it was about to get freezing outside and I had to run back to the hostel since I have only cold cold water for a shower. As I said goodbye she said I couldn’t leave because she was cooking dinner! So I told them “6:00pm” and arranged to come back an hour later and had a much needed shower. I came back and soon after three French individuals came up who met her the previous day. We were all there for dinner. She pulled down a table inside and requested all of us to come inside her home. Wondering how we would all fit, we squeezed gently inside. Once inside all four of us noticed one thing, how peaceful and cozy it was inside. On the outside it looked rugged and depressing but inside it emulated love and comfort. Here were pictures on the walls and giant Buddha arrangement as well. Then she set the table, about five main bowls with some delicious food. I mean it was great. All four of us were pleasantly surprised by what she had cooked on their small open fire in the corner. One we were full she refilled the bowls stating (slightly screaming, but she meant well) “SAPA!”.. So we stuffed our faces again.. And again until it wasn’t physically possibly anymore. She never asked for a dime.. Not one cent. Her life is surrounded. Y the joy of cooking for others. So genuine. It’s priceless! That was my Inle Lake experience. Nothing to do with the lake itself but what this wonderful woman bestowed on me was way more than any lake could offer. If anyone is coming here send me a message and I’ll tell you how to find her, unless she finds you first. So yea, I have gone there each subsequent day, all four days I was here. The third night I got sick.. Again as I woke up in the middle of the night puking my guts out. Sucks. That’s three times in five weeks. I’m over it. Can only go uphill from here! Hmm.. Let’s see.. Yea that’s it for now. Today I went horseback riding which was a nice mix up. Horseback riding in Myanmar! Check! I head to Bagan tomorrow morning and then back to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on Tuesday where I’ll spend my birthday before heading to Sri Lanka. Oh and I’ve had a handful of people asking about the school over messaging and thank you! And I promise to tell ya a little bit later. I’ve just been sleeping most these past two days since it feels like fireworks are going off in my stomach. . It happens! Alright kids, take care now.