The Train. The Zoo.
It’s hard to come up with words to describe such a day, so I am relying on the video clips I have. Please excuse Pavlo’s language in a couple…
The train was packed. There were people shouting, dancing, singing, sleeping, selling, and moving their household furniture.
It was nothing I could have imagined it would be. We were on the train for five hours. I felt like passing out from the heat. I should have brought more water. I looked at the water from the vendors on the trains longingly, wishing I could drink just a couple of sips. It wasn’t bottled. I might get sick. I ate watermelon, sucking the rind for all the water I could get. We got off between two stops, two hours from central Yangon. We walked down the tracks and saw a family. The kids were flying kites. A man beckoned us over.
Sweltering in Yangon.
I am safe and sound in Myanmar. I don’t have much time to write, as I am heading to the zoo with two new friends I met at my hostel, from Australia and Greece, but I wanted to check in for my mom’s sake.
A Letter to my Gut.
A letter to my gastrointestinal tract:
The havoc that is about to befall you, is one that I would not wish upon my greatest enemy…
Beijing, for 13 hours.
After arriving in Beijing, I quickly began to feel like I had lost my marbles. What the hell were you thinking, Anoush, everything was going to be in English? Everything was definitely not in English. I was the only non-Asian on my flight, and anywhere I looked for that matter. What were you THINKING it would be like? I began feeling a little overwhelmed. I was exhausted from an 18-hour flight and two failed attempts at knocking myself out with ambien, and I wasn’t imagining it would be like this upon arrival.