Ancient Oriental to Contemporary Californian

---

BAgan, July 20th southeasterly wind.

locusts call from the sprigs of trees patched between the barren fields, the flat plain erupts in odd little mountains, as if the fields had mustered all of their collective strength and popped up these random peaks of the same color. when the swallows retire the bats come alight though the sprinting wind has already displaced any airborn insect. the portals of each little mountain yawn with the stretching of the days light. these black pores dot the horizon below their respective earthen spires of which time will wash away to the soil from which they came- to have another go at the nurturing of corn, beans, and sprouts of all types.

Temple Philosophy

Leaning against a 9,000 yr old structure is humbling. they made pretty darn good bricks back then. it's raining and except for a few motrobikes and the tinkling of bells that top the thousands of pagodas that surround me below it's fairly quiet. more exceptions.. The birds are also raucus at this time in the evening. Jay-sized brown/black birds w/ bright white patches under their wings swoop about. The clouds are a thick blanket and the horizon is mist-obscuring where land ends and the sky realm begins. Roosters bark, maybe to remind me i'm one of the land-bound no matter how high I climb. I just finished my first water color painting using the rainwater falling from the sky onto the page, this I recommend doing again, and I think I'll give it to my counterpart Austin as condolence for not participating today. (He's got the Mohinga fish sauce lower GI tract blues.) Speaking of, I hope any temple dwelling spirit can forgive my own flatulence and pencil-shaving desicration. A Spanish-speaking lady just arrived on the terrace below me. She rolls out her pink mat for some quality meditation time- I'll keep it down so as not to disturb her mojo. the wonderful breeze has been at it for 3 days now and i pray it never stops, I could almost live in this climate. Oops! a young lasse selling postcards has interrupted the yoga sesh- can't she see this is a holy place?? a moment later, "oh... um, why yes sweetheart, I'll have three post cards." I've yet to decide whether the souveneir sales are blashpemy or icing on my cake, but I guess it's not my call to make anyhow. I will say that the cute kids w/ the powdered faces and "hello mister's" are repetitious- (isn't that the same wooden croaking frog from Phnom Phen?) I saw a sign the other day for a shop selling marble sculptures of the Buddha-"Highest quality in Burma" it read. They might want to rearrange the wording to "Highest quality in SE Asia," b/c there might be more Buddha carvings in the region than human beings. A boy with great big white front teeth and a disproportionately small shaven head asked me at the time if I would like one of these carvings. After declining the Buddha and a ream of post cards he frowned. "What you like??" really, what would I like I thought...
A grilled cheese kid. I would like a grilled cheese. In fact, I would buy ten grilled cheese sandwiches and your sign could read, "Only grilled cheese in SE Asia"...

After drifting away in temple-thought, darkness has once again caught up to me and again I'm completely unprepared. I've got a bit of a bicycle ride North along the Irrawaddy- shouldn't have left my headlamp in the room... more later.

---

Photos

Rotan ball game
no winner, no loser- these guys were wicked-good.

he's got this one in the bag.
Ye Ning Thu is 13. He's small for his age, but he's got big personality. He's a baller on the soccer field every afternoon as well. He won't be going back to school after this year (8th grade). His parents are sending his younger sisters and thus need help selling souveneirs around the temples.