Or rather, actually in Mandalay. Which doesn't resemble the idyll of Rudyard Kipling's poem much, so much as a modern, bustling and very dusty city. And then it turns out that Kipling never even made it to Mandalay anyway, so I am left rather disillusioned about the whole thing. On first impressions, despite the plethora of motorbikes, no working traffic lights and (apparently) no traffic laws, it seems rather safe and civilised and, unlike most places in South America, the drivers would actually be quite sad if they managed to kill you in the middle of the street. Despite arriving at the close of the rainy season it is still disgustingly hot and humid - thank god for air-conditioning - although it is so hot that I'm not counting on any decent photos of myself this
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