A lot about the life I’ve been living over the past 2.5 years has been about experiences that feel unrepeatable. Friendships that feel like beautiful memories. Places that I may never see again. And for the most part, this is a free way to live. It inspires the (cliche) attitudes of “seize the day” and has helped me feel like I can and should open my head and heart to the opportunities in front of me, without fearing the inevitable goodbye. But recently, I retraced my steps. I dug into my past and went back to some places I didn’t know I’d ever see again. I relived, while also reinventing, some old memories. It felt like a treasure hunt.
My time in Myanmar was very special. Unlike in other places, my life there didn’t feel transient. Instead, I felt like I established myself. I built a balanced life. I made lasting friendships that survived and grew even after moving away. My whole concept for what making a career in this line of work could look like changed, becoming both more tangible and more limitless simultaneously. My colleagues at Proximity inspired me, helped me grow my professional networks, and gave me invaluable learnings that I have drawn on ever since. And from small things like walking endlessly through the wonderfully diverse neighborhoods of the city to trips and travels all around the country, I felt complete fascination with life around me.
As time has passed, I was surprised to feel these memories grow fonder. To date, I still love browsing through my Myanmar memories, everything from the mundane to the momentous. Since moving back to the region again 8 months ago, I have been waiting for the chance to revisit. Natasha moved back to Yangon and I was on a plane just a couple weeks later. We were overdue for an adventure together anyways.
Landing in Yangon was surreal. I got the usual nerves as I cleared immigration (I may be permanently scarred after my first experience) and laughed to myself in familiarity as I walked out and faced the sea of taxis, desperately vying for my attention. Not having lived there in a long time, I was curious if I would feel let down by all my memories, if it would feel like the magic was gone. But I shortly affirmed for myself that that was definitely not the case. I eagerly took in the city and all its quirks with fondness and ease. Within a day, I had even switched back to speaking bits of Myanmar. Even though communication can still be a nightmare/guessing game, a little goes a long way. In the first phase of my trip, I was reunited with my dear friend Camille and it was heart-warming to get to reflect on our old Yangon adventures as well as make amazing new memories. Her immediate love from the moment I landed reminded me how fortunate I was to feel welcome and home, in so many different parts of the world.
When I left in 2017, it was hard to detach, but I hoped to come back eventually. The south of Myanmar on the other hand, I never began hoping to revisit with Natasha, it seemed too improbable. Our trip to Myeik in early 2017 was one of my favorite holidays to date, made uniquely special as it felt like Natasha and I were in a world of our own, stumbling upon hidden treasures and having ridiculous experiences that we hold onto with vivid detail. Despite being a fairly bizarre place for foreigners to visit, it held such a special place in my heart after our trip their together. So when Natasha’s work took her back to Myeik, returning together became the obvious choice.
Myeik “round two” was substantially rainier than the first time, which only increased the absurdity of us planning a holiday down there. As we traipsed around in the rain, ponchos and umbrellas aplenty, we got one weird look after another. Why are there two random foreigners, dressed like idiots, walking around in the rain, in a city that attracts basically no visitors? Because Myeik has become our special place. We returned to the restaurant where we had eaten one of the best meals of our lives (the fresh lobster in mouth-watering spices was the star player). After confirming that the food was in fact as remarkable as we remembered, we came back every night, had the same meal, and received plenty of amused looks each night when we walked in. By the end, we had befriended the restaurant owner and he was delighted to know that we had remembered him and his amazing food from our last trip. I’m sure he still has no idea how these two foreigners seem to wind up in Myeik, repeatedly.
To continue on the topic of food, in our previous trip, we had found a particular street vendor who sets up her shop in an evening street food market and is the only one who makes “ar pohn”, a local coconut snack, cooked fresh on charcoal stoves. The coconut batter is poured in the special pots and forms a thin crepe-like consistency on the edges and a fluffy custard-like consistency in the center. Last time, Natasha and I had stumbled upon it right before leaving and had missed the opportunity to really savor them, which was endlessly disappointing. This time, we ordered a dozen and as we took our first bites, it was like a year-long itch had finally been scratched. We relished every bite, took a parcel of them to go, and raved about them endlessly. Obviously the taste was incredible, but there was also something so monumental about finding the same street lady, being back together in Myeik, and avenging the tragedy of not getting to soak in this treat’s glory last time. Incidentally, when trying to track down the name of this snack, I dug up the photo of this woman from my old blog article and we sent it to a friend who is from Myeik. This friend forwarded the photo to all her hometown friends and everyone excitedly reported back that this is THE lady in town who makes the best version of this snack and everyone knows her. I found it remarkable, but I guess that’s part of the charm of a small town. By establishing our favorite “ar pohn” lady as the local legend, we formed a deeper connection with the city. Unsurprisingly, we definitely confused her by ordered zillions and having the most animated reaction to her food that she’s probably ever seen.
Though it doesn’t sound like it, we had other adventures besides eating amazing food. We got stuck in the rain a zillion times and got in the habit of pulling out snacks and randomly playing cards in road side shops while the storms passed. We took a motorbike through the countryside and marveled at the stunning greenery. We had a beach day that culminated in us jumping in the ocean rather than trying to hide from the rain- splashing around with glee in the middle of a rain storm was absolutely thrilling. We took some ridiculous bus rides in standard Myanmar fashion, and spent countless hours talking about life, discussing the state of electrification and off-grid energy solutions, playing cards, and relishing the fact that everywhere we went, we were the only tourists. I guess normal tourists don’t want to take a rainy coastal holiday, but we’re far from being normal or tourists.
The fact that this city has become our special get-away seems to surprise everyone, but there is something that I love about having a place on the earth that really feels like ours. When we left Myeik the first time, I never expected to return. I made a mental note to hold onto those memories extra carefully. Now with two times under our belt, it might be our special holiday location for years to come. Despite a lot of nostalgia throughout the trip, I also felt very present. I’m in a new place in my life now, as is everyone else I met up with, yet our adventures in Myanmar continue to thrive. While I usually prioritize trying new things in new places, there is a special satisfaction that can come from doing old things in old places, but with a new mind and with renewed love.
First I have to catch up on some old photos:
First two rows are from a conference in Singapore several weeks back. I’m convinced the photos I took of the city look like artificial renderings.
Probably the best part of the conference was being reunited with Louisa, a dear friend and colleague from my time working Myanmar. It’s a small world! Don’t mind the not-terribly-flattering photo of either of us.
The last row is a couple photos from our second village. We’ve been expanding operations rapidly, and it’s exciting but also scary to be taking on the challenges that come with growth and new circumstances. Also, Oscar’s enthusiasm during our process of getting more boards ready to be deployed in the field was a priceless shot.
The remaining photos are from my trip back to Myanmar. The first three and the title photo are from Yangon itself.
The next three rows are from Natasha and my adventures, beginning in Myeik. We rocked polka dot ponchos and carried on in the rain, visited the mountaintop pagoda at night, and ate to our hearts content. These local joints that we’ve gone out of our way to track down multiple times now have a strong hold on my heart. Don’t miss my newest photo of the aforementioned “ar ponh” lady, nor Natasha with the lobster we rave about incessantly.
The last two photos are from Dawei where we played many games of cards in the lovely bungalow veranda and explored much of the countryside in the rain.
