Sunday 30 March
Dozing till close to noon, I drank water, got up to pee, snoozed again, before deciding to remove myself from the comfortable womb of this western hotel and wander down the street to one of Yangon's most famous markets. I'll admit I was hungover as I flopped down the street, absorbing whatever I came across but not really able to process it.
Turning left at an intersection I was overcome with a beautiful sensation as sweet fragrances unlike anything I had ever experienced filled the air. The light jingle of clear bells accompanied the heavenly scent, borne from the gears of the old machines that ground sugar cane still in 2008.
Over a railway bridge and past a poor deformed beggar child, I wandered into the market proper, drifting this way and that among the cobbled streets and past all sorts of colours, goods, people and sounds. People wanted to sell me this, offer that, but I floated through it all with a smile and an expression of wonder.
Deciding that some food would be a good idea, I settled on the only cafe I had seen, just near the foot bridge, and ordered some fried rice and a coke from a young kid with the best smile ever. From ear to ear he grinned at me and took my order in English, then dashed inside to transmit it and over again to pick up something else.
Wandering back over the bridge afterwards, to check out of the hotel and head to the airport, I saw the beggar child once again and felt so sorry for him it was an automatic response to give him 200 kyats, or twenty cents. When he looked up at me, through one eye, this pitiful boy showed his beautiful, grateful soul and I saw a pure smile of thanks for this tiny gesture. I couldn't take it then, and fell apart on the bridge before I moved to the side of the tracks and wept for this boy. The horror of so many people undergoing such suffering overcame me, and the rest of the trip was spent in numb recognition of the gross inequity in the world today.
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