Finding a Little Piece of Home in Myanmar

The grounds of a local monastery in Bago, Myanmar

The realization that I am actually here, creating this new home in Myanmar, hits me in waves. My feelings of excitement and disbelief appear to eb and flow.

In a previous post, I wrote about a desire to capture and savor the ‘little moments’ that occur in daily life here in Myanmar. I thought I would share just a few of these moments with you:

On a bus ride back from Yangon - As golden hour begins, I watch a father carry his barefoot and half-asleep child across a long wooden plank bridge to their home,sat high on stilts above a small body of stagnant water. The warm glow of the slowly setting sun washes over the pair.

At the local school - A line of three men toss heavy clay bricks to one another to put in place a sturdy new fence.

Our favorite noodle and dumpling shop - The sizzle and pop of oil in a hot pan and the pungent smell of fresh garlic waft through the open space. A steaming bowl of khaw sway joh and a plate of freshly cooked steamed dumplings are placed carefully on the small table surrounded by plastic and metal chairs.

A walk in our neighborhood - Tiny voices shouting “mingalapar!” as our group of “teachers in training (ဆရာမ/ဆရာ)” make our way to our local school in the morning.

Language lessons - The long days spent inside a bright mint green Myanmar classroom, studying this challenging yet beautiful language. The ‘tick tick tick’ of a broken ceiling fan, no longer providing solace to the rising afternoon temperatures.

These moments have kept me grounded, especially when a day appears to feel particularly difficult. And the days sometimes are [difficult]. Some days I am simply just tired, or I’m battling a heat-induced migraine. Other days I miss my family, my friends, and my dogs. Sometimes it is as silly as missing cheese or my favorite tacos. But then I have these moments in Myanmar. I think of how much I would miss home here too, and how lucky I am to be living these moments.

The other day I was thinking about how much I miss the solitude of the towering pines behind our house in East Texas. The peacefulness I felt as I sat outside in the light breeze, listening to only the sounds of small birds chirping above and the buzzing of bees and dragonflies.

Then, our language cluster visited a place that reminded me of the tranquility I felt at home in Texas.

We visited a local monastery, hidden among trees. The stillness of the monastery provided a sense of calmness as we walked the grounds. We were told by the assistant to the head monk that the grounds were more than 500 years old.

After chatting with the monk, Acara, we enjoyed fresh fruit under the shade. As we left the monastery, I looked out the back of the tuk tuk, watching the place that reminded me of home fade farther and farther away. I’ll visit again one day.