Day 3, on the way to Mandalay

On our pickup van were besides me, three foreigners and two locals, and huge backpacks and cargo boxes. Next to me the two Australian young boys in early 20s were excitedly talking about their girl friends and some very private lives,nonstop. On one hand I was a little embarrassed, but meanwhile felt a little jealous of their having a friend to travel with esp. at such boring moments, Me, another European one, and those two locals pretended not to be preoccupied by overhearing so we just turned our heads away to look out .

Modern buildings disappeared quickly into farmland,and villages. The wind were blowing the hays left from recent harvests and at roadsides were a few Buddha statues on raised platforms and pagodas,casted and then painted in white and golded colors. Even though I knew at Mandalay and Bagan, over thousands of temple,pagodas and monks were there waiting for me to explore, the sight of them still impressed me a sense of grandeur and lostness,especailly when against the setting sun and bunches of palm trees.

The van pulled into the station, which turned out more like a parking lot with different bus companies at their own parking section and operations.I felt kinda abandoned on the pickup when the other five were welcomed by their bus company and were ready to get off. Noticing my worries about where to go, the local woman kindly checked my ticket, and confirmed the location of my bus and asked the van to take there exactly( as it turned out of course) before she said goodbye.

The van drove forward for another 5 minutes and then took a left turn. I was gestured to get off in front of a big coach by a small room. Must be a waiting room .No bigger than about 60 sqm, it was half filled up already. The bus staff were in the middle left of the room behind a very small and old table. They asked for my name and passport to reconfirm my bus ticket. In Myanmar currently, like a couple of decades before in China, local people and foreigners pay prices in big difference. There were students, businessmen-like, monks in saffron robes around me quietly; Realizing I was the only foreigner there, I felt a bit lonely and helpless suddenly again.When I calmed down, I couldn't believe the chances,during this busy tourist season, quite a few bus companies,only me was chosed to put here. There were children beggars, vendors selling chips, newspaper, and drinks, monks begging donations,thanks buddha they didn't behave aggressive.

The bus was again, a second-hand Japanese coach, but obviously quite spacious, clean windows, with soft seats. Pretty good I was telling myself when I saw my neighbour. A local man in middle 20s, tall and strong. While we were sitting there, he said something in Burmese but I understood nothing. He couldn't speak English either but he tried to point his finger at his thick jacket and then my short-sleeve t-shirt. Now I knew it. He meant it's going to be cold. I thanked him and pointed to my bags on the shelves meaning that I did have warm clothes up there. Then came silence, awkward silence forever.

The sky became dark immediately around 5:30. Very few street lamps were on. So the dense trees seemed horrible sihousette to me now. The road was quite well paved. I felt tired and fell asleep quickly. When I woke up again by the cold, it was already about 2 hours later.I tried to find my long sleeve t shirt but in vain. I was thinking it over when I pulled my jacket on. But I was still with short pants.I was waken up also due to the music from poor speaker. The melody sounded sweet but the volume really hurt ed my ears. My young neighbour must love Karaoke much, he sang as other men on the bus.I hoped myself not too rude by turning on my ipod at his gaze.

It was a pure blackness out of window. Following only its headlights, the bus ran slowly but smoothly, which worked its magic on me as soon as I realized. The world, in both of my eyes and in my mind went black again.