Collecting Moments

Последний нотный лист - Обрыв кардиограммы. Аккорд не прозвучал, Диагноз не поставлен. С началом, без конца Квартет, без завершения Для скрипок и альта. Вся жизнь - Басовый ключ Вопрос и многоточие...

Just before first light we arrived to Yangon after a 10-hour night bus ride. The city was just waking up. The first hour we spent in a poorly-lit local bus with sleepy passengers going to work to the center. It was still dark when we arrived to Sule Paya. The benches in a small park didn't seem welcoming, we sat for a cup of tea in a nearby Chinese cafe which was empty and quite dirty. The prospect of spending the whole day in this big noisy city wandering around with backpacks was definitely not inspiring. “The name of your hotel, please. I'd like to invite you for dinner at 5pm”, I got a text from the lady, a senior government worker, who ten days ago picked us up on the highway from Yangon to Naypyitaw. “We don't have a hotel”, I replied “We need to be at the airport at 7:30pm. We'll just walk around”. “Oh, then I'll pick you up in an hour. You can rest in my home and then use our car to go to the airport”. Since I almost didn't sleep last night, I thought I

Taunggyi is a grey, dusty, dirty town but the market... The market is full of colours!

When they don't carry stones or do some other extremely hard work, children in Myanmar are happy, playful and eternally grateful.

A local of Nawnghkio: “This road is dangerous, not peaceful. Some towns are closed to foreigners.” We still insisted on hitchhiking out of town southwards. “So you see this road on your map? It's rare used. Only by the army and private trucks. No taxis, no buses.” - said another senior resident of Nawnghkio when he saw us trying to hitch. “We want a truck then.” “Wait a minute, I'll try to get you a truck”. Ten minutes after we were driving in a motorbike taxi (paid by that man) to the offices of an Indian transportation company owned by his friend. The owners and workers were gathered there waiting for the next lorry. We decided to share the huge watermelon gifted to us by our previous hitch driver. Soon a girl appeared speaking good English and explained to us that we could reach a village half way to Taunggyi (our destination) with a truck and then continue the next day. We were introduced to the truck driver and his wife and told they would offer us somewhere to sleep

In the banks of Myanmar you can see happy people walking out with bags literally full of cash. Imagine big supermarket plastic bags full of kyats! I've never seen anything like that in my life. Even in the Soviet Union where I grew up nobody could imagine having so much money on their hands. The smell of money stays in the air in the Burmese banks. Workers with nose masks sit the whole day in front of the tables with piles of banknotes and count them diligently. You can hear the sound of leafing through those small dirty papers.

Hsipaw was a great example of the closeness between beauty and ugliness, life and death. On our way to the beautiful Namtok waterfall we first had to pass through a burning noxious field of rubbish. The road to the refreshing hot springs started at an expanse of cemeteries representing the different faiths living in town. Children were playing and bathing in the river just next to the smoking crematorium...