With Love from Myanmar

More than half a year has passed since my trip to Myanmar. To this day I sit in front of colorful photo folders – the only thing that appears to be organized in terms of my memories. So many wonderful moments want to be dressed into chubby warm and sugar sweet words.

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Life just is so gorgeously exciting with a next Adventure just around any Corner

Sometimes I fear that I will forget one or the other memory of Myanmar, until suddenly another moment comes, in which I realize that this trip was a very special one for me and I am going to carry it with me in my heart (and lately on my apartment wall) forever.

In January I told you about my very special afternoon, I spent with the art dealer and his family in one of the oldest temples of Bagan.

I got to experience an unforgettable story. Everything started with this mean feeling of assumption that you have been taken for granted along with doubt, however it all ended in pure happiness which made me forget about time and unfortunately about the address as well.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bagan

I asked for your help to find Myanmar travelers, who would take the photos and a letter to Bagan to hand it over to the art dealer. The response was overwhelming. I truly thank each one of you who wanted to help me. Especially because nobody really likes to enter into an obligation during holidays.

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In the end, I chose Petra. A friend of friends who wanted to travel through various countries in Southeast Asia. Unfortunately, I was not able to give her the letter in person and so on days I found myself, tormented by a terrible flu, ringing the bell of a Berlin apartment door. A young man opened. Between coughing and wiping my nose, I thanked him for his help. “I really do not understand the whole thing, but you are very welcome.” Well, apparently not everyone comes to such outrageous ideas. As my voice waned, I trusted that he would also be aware of the great story behind the letter the latest in Myanmar.

A beating Heart and Tears in my Eyes

The weeks went by. Every now and then I saw photos on Facebook, which proved that the Travelgroup Postman had already arrived in Myanmar. On a cold dingy day in February I saw the picture that made my heart jump and which brought little tears of joy in my eyes.

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There they were: the father, who looks like he is wildly gesticulating in order to properly tell our story. The mom who looks down smiling on a photo and maybe wearing Amandine’s lipstick. And the little tot, who is probably much too small to remember how wonderful the time was we had spent together.

Unfortunately, I haven’t yet had the chance to thank Petra in person to ask her about the moment of the handover. Did they know who sent the letter? Did their eyes sparkle as in the photo? I look forward to the day when I can ask all my questions.

However, the story of running errands has not come to an end with this.

Shortly after I had delivered the letter and the photos, my ex-colleague Rouven contacted me. He was also going on a trip to the Golden Land. Since the letter had now been on the road, I only gave him a few travel tips and wished him a good time. Being on the journey, he off and on uploaded incredible photos of countless hot air balloons rising into the misty morning sky over Bagan or the U Bein Bridge at sunset, which I sadly I had not managed to visit.

At a certain point he was on one of the images, my art dealer. Rouven also paid him a visit to chat with him and his family. They likewise exchanged stories about life and banknotes.

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Rouven still go to be the messenger. He brought me a gift from the art dealer. When I laid eyes on the flat in newspaper wrapped packet, I had a hunch what it might be. In fact, it was one of his precious sand paintings.

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I will put it into a frame to hang it against my wall at my apartment. It will always remind me to travel the world with open eyes. In the dustiest corner of an ancient temple the most beautiful travel memories may be hidden.

By the way, if one of you will travel to Myanmar soon and owns some Finnish banknotes, the art dealer would be more than happy to call them his as those are still missing in his collection.

When you get there, please, give him and his family a big hug!

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