I discover to my amazement that to travel the 500km from Kalaw to Yangon requires 14 hours on this bus. Stopping for food and passengers all along the way, all through the night until dawn the next morning. I have a seat at the back of the bus on the left hand aisle seat. What amuses me is to see that even the standing aisle of this bus has seats that extend out from one side of the bench seats. On this aisle-aisle seat, is a mother nursing a baby. Some time in the evening I look down at and see vomit settled on my trouser leg.
It’s only starting to dawn when the bus arrives in Yangon. I realise that Lily had snuck me onto a bus that would put me in Yangon 2 hours before my flight. I also find out that I am still miles away from the airport, and I don’t have any money left.
I walk the gauntlet of taxi drivers awaiting the bus. I tell them a few times that I don’t have an money left, and after some consultation they direct me to the bus stop for a bus heading towards the airport. At the stop I meet an army engineer, an officer, old as I am, who ushers me onto the bus and who also takes care of the bus fare for me. All through these travels in Myanmar, I am the recipient of these acts of kindness from strangers.
Although I didn’t record his name, he tells me of his travels, his work in Malaysia, his family and his desire to travel again. This year 2015 comes up again as a date of promises, of freedom to journey beyond the borders and a chance at living in greater world.
I arrive in time to board my flight and I leave with ten US dollars still in my pocket, my Doc Martens boots on my feet, and a hope to return some day.
Thursday, 5 January, 2012.