"This is Burma, and it will be quite unlike any land you know about." (George Orwell, Burmese Days)

s: We have heard that there is a joke going around Yangon that George Orwell wrote not one book about Burma, but three: Burmese Days, Animal Farm, and 1984. It is fitting, then, that the government here requires that internet cafes take screenshots of what their customers are doing every few minutes. With this in mind, some specific stories may be saved for later, particularly to protect the locals we've met along the way.

a: In general, though, we agree that Burma is at once the best and the worst place we've ever visited.

s: This is because of its dramatic authenticity... and because of its dramatic authenticity.

a: Nothing about daily life here is reminiscent of America, which makes our clumsy journey around this nation exhilarating but exhausting. For instance, at a pagoda in Mandalay, we gave 1000 kyat (about $1) to a mother and her diaperless baby. Within seconds a swarm of more mothers with diaperless babies as well as young children surrounded us with a cacophony of pleading hello, hello, hello's while they pointed to their mouths. Flustered, heartsore, and feeling dumb about our initial donation, we darted out of the pagoda, tailed by several of the mass. We searched for our rickshaw drivers, but they were not at our agreed upon location. Ugh. It's moments like this that make Myanmar a really difficult place to be. In no time, though, our drivers came smiling down the road, excited to give us gifts: peanut candies they bought for us while we were in the pagoda. Our drivers. Who had been bicycling our weight all around the unpaved ground in the humid, dusty city of Mandalay. All day long. For a measly five dollar fare. Left. On what should have been their break. To buy us peanut candies. It's moments of unrelenting Burmese kindness like this that make Myanmar so wonderful.

s: So, while not everything about our stay in Mandalay was perfect (and clearly, whoever designed the glitzy Vegas hotel has not visited its grimy namesake), any difficulties were seriously trumped by the ridiculously wonderful Burmese people who will not stop giving me back the $20 bills I keep accidentally sticking in the midst of 3000 kyat. After two days in the city, we caught a night bus to Nyaungshwe, the town bordering Inle Lake. Unfortunately, Amy had gotten a 24-hour bout of heatstroke--

a: It's really hot here.

s: --so the bus ride involved a lot of fanning and trying to give her space to breathe (the latter being pretty ambitious on a Burmese night bus). Luckily, though, Nyaungshwe turned out to be a small, quiet town with vaguely Western cuisine options, so we were able to spend a day just relaxing with mango lassis and coconut water.

a: Coconut water doesn't taste so great after a couple of sips.

s: Yeah, but you needed the electrolytes.



a: Okay, fine. Eventually Nurse Sara had found enough coconut water and parmesian cheese to cure me. We took a day trip out on Inle Lake with our new friends, a super nice Israeli couple we met in a taxi from the bus station. All I will say about Inle Lake is that it would take too many words to describe it, and they would fall short anyway. We'll post pictures when we can. Until then, just imagine tons of houses, stores and monasteries on stilts, floating tomato gardens that have to be pinned down with bamboo sticks so they don't float right away, Long Neck tribe families, and white puffy clouds in the sky reflected on the water. At least there's a start.

s: I think it's a sign I've grown too used to south-east Asia that I found myself wondering, "Of course, who wouldn't get to work by canoe?" It was a little bit confusing to realize that I couldn't think of anyone at home who did this, which I rationalized with the fact that I couldn't think of anyone who lived near enough to a river for canoe travel to be practical. You all do have chickens though, right?

a: I'm constantly saying things like "Wow, Sara, look at those five people crammed on that motorcycle," to which she'll reply, "Oh, that's normal here." Or, "Sara, there's no light in this squat toilet," and she'll passively remark, "Yeah, it'll be okay." Or, "Sara, should there be seat belts in this (insert bizarre foreign method of transport)?" --"No, we want to be able to jump off if we're about to hit something." (Don't worry, parents, we're safe.)

s: Finally, you may have noticed occasional switches between the names "Burma" and "Myanmar." This is driving Amy crazy.

a: My name's Amy. Or, Blarfy! YOU decide! It'll be such a fun game for your mind to play every time you try and think of what to call me! YAY!!

s: Which is fair. So, to clarify, they're the same place. But, if you're super curious and have time to kill, I'm sure Google can tell you all about the politics. As Amy implied, there's not really a "right" answer.

a: That's it for now. So, in the words of a pleasant Burmese shop owner, "Thank you for your comings." To our blog, that is.

Love you all bunches and bunches,
Sara and Amy (Blarfy)