Aging Adventurer

The last hour of a long red-eye flight, attendants came by and asked what I would prefer for breakfast, “sweet or savory”?  Please, airline food in coach? I laughed when I should have smiled. She was not particularly amused with my somewhat snide response.  I chose the fruit and yogurt; sweet, I presume.

A half hour later, I was holding my tray with a barely touched bowl of runny yogurt awaiting its  retrieval  when the lady in front of me suddenly declined her seat  knocking the left-overs out of my hands and into my lap. My last clean outfit, black no less, was dripping with white pasty muck from my chest to my knees. A few choice “” curse words””  emanated out of my mouth.  I quickly became see-sawed between two flight attendants, each hoping the other would help me as this was a BUSY time and people were to stay out of the aisle.  I lucked out with Martha who washed my clothes with me in them.  I smelled like a sick baby and was sticky as well.  However, when I landed in AMS I took a shower and put on yesterday’s dirty clothes with a pretty scarf to hide that fact.

Myanmar was amazing, hot, intensive and complex when I visited Yangon, Bagan, Mt. Popa, Mandalay and Lake Inle. It is one of the last frontiers proven by the locals who are still somewhat smitten by tourists.  The country and its people are another story.  Today it’s about hazards and happenstance.

A friend and I were staying in a bed and breakfast of sorts the night before an early flight to Bagan. We were on the third floor of an old house with its own staircase, peculiar plumbing and bars on all the windows.

Unaccustomed to the time zone and the barking dogs, the alarm clock was turned off.  Up, dressed and ready to go until we tried the door.  It would not open, not with a key, not with a push, not even with attempted unhinging.   The windows and the bars were also immobilized.

Daylight was beginning to break and all was quiet, including the hounds, giving me a chance of a boisterous soliloquy.  I was a little frightened, mostly about missing my flight, but claustrophobia was lurking.  I yelled “help” and then “fire” because  people  sometimes don’t like your danger.   My roommate hissed at me for waking up the neighborhood!  Thank goodness I ignored the  plea for politeness .

In what seemed like hours, a young woman climbed the steps to check on the racket.  She tried opening it from the outside with the key I pushed through the bars. Nothing. She then awoke the innkeeper who managed to take off the doorknob; to no avail. Finally her robust husband appeared and wasted no time in throwing his half-naked body against the door thereby creating a passable hole for us to get out with our bags and eat breakfast before the cab appeared.

Coincidently, the lock at a hotel in Mandalay also failed; luckily I was outside the room and could get help.

The last night of the incredible journey found me in Yangon again, this time, however, at a fancy hotel. My daughter, who travels globally for business was in town!  A small world indeed.

I keep a suitcase semi-packed. Travel is my passion and when queried I say my favorite place is the one I’m still dreaming about. The realities, when they come to pass, are always exciting, memorable and sated with stories. I hope to share some of those with you.