Did you know that March is National Umbrella Month? Funny that. How does this relate to a travel tale, you ask? I’m about to tell you how a rainy day in Yangon turned into my best ever travel moment. And, yes, there is an umbrella in this story.
Storm Clouds Brewing Over Shwedagon Pagoda
It’s 2009. May. The middle of the stinking hot season in South East Asia and I decide, on impulse, to spend a week in Burma. I’m walking the streets of Yangon one sunny afternoon. Temperatures have been hovering around 40 degrees all week and it is HOT. I’m pawing of street market stalls buying dodgy bootleg DVDs and even dodgier jewellery made of bullets when suddenly the heavens open. Bucketloads of rain are literally spilling down on top of me and I’m quickly getting soaked through. The vendors all quickly pack up their things and I stand there like a dummy not knowing what to do. Anywhere else in Asia I’d simply hop in a taxi or on the back of a bike and zoom back to my hotel. But this is Yangon. Taxi’s are few and fair between and the ones I do find don’t know where my guesthouse is or can’t speak English. The only thing to do is to keep on walking. Not that I know where I’m going….
Out of nowhere a kind voice asks me, in English because obviously I don’t speak Burmese, if I need an umbrella. I turn around and see an even kinder face repeating the offer. A young monk introduces himself to me and suggests I step under his umbrella. I gladly accept and he proceeds to chat away at me in pretty good English. He offers to take me to a tea shop to wait out the storm and, again, I gladly accept. We retreat to a little shop and sit on plastic children’s chairs and sip a strange blend. I am a stranger in this environment and receive a lot of strange stares. We pass the time by discussing the usual topics – where are you from, where are you going, what do you think of Burma? An hour passes and the rain ceases. My new friend escorts me to a taxi. Giving me his phone number he insists we meet again when I pass back through Yangon at the end of the week.
If he hadn’t been a monk, the whole thing would have been terribly romantic.
The week passes. I travel to Bagan and once back in Yangon, the receptionist at my guesthouse helps me call the monastery. After a few failed attempts, we finally make contact with my monk who has been out at English lessons all day. We make plans for me to arrive the next morning and visit the monastery in which he lives.
I’m greeted by a friendly wave from the gate of the monastery. My monk shuffles me around the grounds showing me the different areas – the monks quarters, the mess hall and the incredibly simple orphanage where 40-odd boys from around the country have come to live having lost their parents to violence or to Cyclone Nargis the year before. The boys are much more interested in their television than they are in meeting a foreigner. We proceed to the mess hall where I’m left alone with the Abbott to discuss Buddhism while my friend collects our lunch. The Abbott speaks a little English and with the help of a phrasebook we converse. My monk returns with a home cooked meal for the two of us to share. As monk’s rise early and don’t eat after 12pm, lunch is served at 10.30am. Each day a different woman from the community prepares a lunch for my monk. I’m sure on this day she’s been instructed to prepare a feast fit for a fat foreigner.
Lunchtime at the Orphanage
Residents Crowded Around the Television
After a large meal of vegetarian delights, I have to make a speedy exit to catch my flight back to Bangkok. Not wanting to waste a moment of time together, my monk accompanies me by taxi back to my guesthouse to collect my bags and then on to the airport. He tells me I’m the first foreigner he’s ever had the courage to speak to despite taking English lessons for a year. He tells me of his plans to move to Sri Lanka to study for a Masters’ degree at a Buddhist University. I feel compelled to give him my remaining cash to pay for more English lessons and contribute to his flight – about US$200 and a few handfuls of Kyat. Our extraordinary meeting comes to an end as I slip past the security gate and onto my flight but our friendship continues to this day through the modern marvel of Facebook.
With Ashin Panyin at the Monestary in Yangon
If I’d had my own umbrella the best moment I’ve ever had on the road would never have happened.
The moral of the story? Never be prepared and always talk to strangers.
>>> If you’re visting Burma and looking for more ideas on what to do then check out this post on things to do in Yangon for inspiration!
Leave a Comment
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
This is a beautiful story. Wow. What an encounter.
Thanks Erin. Like I said, my favourite travel memory.
What a beautiful memory. Life takes such twists and turns. Stories such as this re kindle my hope for humanity. There might just be enough good souls in the world to save the rest of us.
Indeed Charli!
Love this post! What an incredible experience. Do you know if he has made it to Sri Lanka?
Yes! He’s been there for a few years now and has invited us to visit him. Do you have any plans to go to Sri Lanka? I could pass on his details to you.
Great story, I love a good monk! I think it’s great you gave him some cash. I’m not huge on monthly charities and what not, but when you find someone who just seems like a good person who could use a little help, I am all in favor of lending a helping hand. Good on you.
what an awesome story!
Oh, that’s a lovely story! I’d love to hear a follow up of what your young monk is up to in a few years…
A very special moment, indeed! I’m always surprised at how open people are to foreigners and, like Micki says, it would be great to hear his story.
What a memory! And so nice you’re still in touch. THIS is what travel’s all about, I think.
Lovely story, Bethany. Our favorite travel memory involves getting lost in HCMC and stumbling on a remote Buddhist convent, meeting some fantastic nuns. Maybe this is part of the magic of Buddhism. . .
The best travel moments are so often unplanned. Lovely story. Thanks for sharing it.
What a great story! And so wonderful that you can keep in touch!
So glad I read this today–what a sweet story, and how cool that you two are still in contact!
i love stories of kindness in the world. i really feel like there is so much more good than bad out there & it’s always wonderful to hear about these magical moments!
Wow! You are still memorizing more than me. Yes, as you say, we met like terribly romantic. Fortunately we have to thank the king of rain-god because it was suddenly rain on that day that is why we became special friend. I always remember this. I do thank you so much Bethaney.
It really does seem like the best travel days are never expected!
Awesome tale and great storytelling Bethaney 🙂
I’m so glad this ended up in your top ten list because I’d never read it – what a brilliant story! I really love this kind of mad coincidence that happens when people travel. Makes it so much better than staying home!
Yay to 2 year anniversaries and pointers to top posts!
Love your philosophy:
“Never be prepared and always talk to strangers.”
The serendipity of travel 🙂