Along the passage of tree arches, the sunset was like a prelude to another plain on another continent, somewhere, someday. Time travels. Time-travel.
The day started with the market, and a stop at a typical tea house where men in longyi sat and chewed betel, and I felt I had intruded a men-only zone. In the shade at Shwezigon Paya (where the 37 Nats were), I watched the young monks checking each other’s harvest of offerings, timidly smili
ng for the photo with les frères français, to whom we ran into thrice more that day.
Floating in the pool watching the palm tree leaves waving from the sky, it suddenly dawned on me that all it reminded me of was Bohol. Kuşadası had similar moments but not quite. This fact alone says so much about the kind of travelling I have done so far… but these are changes I welcome with open arms.
The culinary touch: Great homemade ice-cream was a nice finish at The Black Bamboo, and Aroma 2 put on some very decent chapattis. I thought the local cuisine at The Golden Myanmar was decent, but there was no consensus on that.
