Story time: Road to Mandalay

It is 4am, air is cold, the whole train wagon is dark. Ordinary class is full of unknown, smell of sleepiness, and strangers that I share no language with. Train moves forward, slow and bumpy ride sets the rhythm of this unusual country.

Back in 2014, when I visited Myanmar, it was still a country untouched by the modern tech inventions. Regular people did not have phones, debit cards, most of them have never seen a computer or used internet. The country has recently opened up to foreigners, who started to come and admire this strange, strange land. Land where women’s face is painted with thanaka - yellow powder paint made from a tree bark, land where man wear lungyi - long skirts.

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Myanmar has been through so much, oppressive military regime, harsh life conditions, yet the people find a way how to go on, find some kind of inner peace and most of all, keep a very kind heart.

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I sit down on a small wooden bench next to an old wrinkled grandma. She takes her tiny wrinkled hand and places it on my left tight. Her touch is very gentle, and to be honest at this point I am not sure the hand is even there. Then I look down to check and yes, it is there. I feel confused. Being brought up in an environment where keeping personal space is a big deal, I feel far beyond my comfort zone. I look into her eyes and she gives me the warmest smile, with shining clarity in her eyes that look right at me. I get so embarrassed by such an unexpected moment of intimacy, that I look away and try not to cry, as my throat becomes tensed and my heart melts a bit. After some time she offers me a bag of rice to use as a pillow.

Unfortunately, I have not yet mastered the national sports of Myanmar aka “the art of sleeping anywhere”, so I need to return this gift. She offers me her own knee to use as a pillow. As touching as this gesture is, I am not that compact. Old wrinkled grandma stands up, pulls out an empty bag of rice, spreads it on the floor, and falls sound asleep, beautifully ignoring all the people passing through and around her in the train aisle.

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What I have learned on that train, is how important and how easy it is, to connect with person next to you. I don’t want to forget to look into the eyes of strangers, I don’t want to fear smiling and being curious about others. Even when we don’t share a single word in a common.

I don’t want to forget that 4am cold air full of humanness hiding in a dark wagon on a road to Mandalay.

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