Here are the photo B-sides from my month in Myanmar, without any particular theme to hold them together. Hope you enjoy the randomness.
Me in front of a temple entrance.
Mr. Yoon, our Thai friend, on the first day across the border.
Mr. Yoon and Ali (in the back), rode with us to Yangoon before returning to Thailand.
TREES. There was an awesome tree canopy like this over much of the road in Myanmar. It was like natural air conditioning.
Mike entertains some village kids with his flag flag.
Mr. Yoon (right) and Ali(left) head out after a break.
All the bikes, leaned up against one another, like a game of Jenga.
Lemme get some sleep guys!
I'm not sure how much good this thing does for putting out fires. Maybe just a collector's item.
Check out this clock with the Burmese numbers on it. And that guy's shirt pattern next to the column.
I have a good photo of this lady in another post, but I thought I'd include this one of us together to illustrate just how tiny she was, and how big her newspaper cigarette is. I think it might have been drugs.
Above: Shaky portraits. Left to right, top to bottom: Mirek, Mike, Katya, Minsung, Daniella.
Don't worry, the bike's ok, there was just nowhere to lean it up.
Big city livin', Myanmar style.
Ornately decorated, new but modeled on antique sewing machines, made in India and China, for sale in Myanmar.
Lovely ladies laying asphalt.
A bit of unexpectedly homo-erotic advertising.
I always forget the name of this game, but guys in Myanmar were playing it all the time. It's like hacky-sack but with a rattan ball. Needless to say, I'm no good at it.
Our lady cyclists pulling in for a meal stop.
Mirek and his train on the road.
Katya and Daniella and I share a meal.
The bike, it's still there. This time on a bridge.
This is what happens when I move into a hotel room.
Puri and Thali just before crossing over from Tamu to Moreh.
Mike and some raucously drunk guys driving around on their motorcycle. Hope they made it through to the end of the day.
This entire village came out to the road and cheered us on as we passed, like it was the tour-de-France or something.
Mirek jumping over his bike.
This policeman rode ahead of us on his scooter for HOURS, making we made it to the next town, and maybe also that we didn't disseminate any subversive information to the local populace.
Sometimes everybody needs a little push.
Break time for the shakies.
Now it's my turn to do something silly next to my bike.
This just cannot be safe.
Yet another beer and meal combo to while away the hottest hours of the day.
Me, in my tent, on top of a building.
We met this cool dude, who had lived in the US for several years before returning home!
Mike and I leave an edible present for our friends behind us. On this particular day, we were in the middle of nowhere, and there were no shops or restaurants, so we had to subsist on cookies for most of the day.
Goin' to work!
Some older ladies and their breakfast club meeting.
Katya and I relax in our hammocks before hitting the road again.
Happy driver and his Model-T truck. I have no idea how they keep these things running.
Words of wisdom from (B)order (R)oads (O)rganization, the Indian government org that maintains all the out of the way roads in India . They built the last couple hundred KM of our road in Myanmar, and this was the first of many clever signs we saw encouraging us to drive slow, be safe, and make it home to our wives.
Mike, being all hardcore and crossing a river.
The I Love You machine.
My dream car, and probably the nicest vehicle we saw in Myanmar.
Finally, this was on the wall at the immigration post in Tamu, just before crossing into India. It reads, "Myanma Spirit: The simple-minded Myanmars have no envy against those having fair complexions, nor hatred for the brownishs; nor differentiate with the blackishs; nor hostile to those of different faiths. They have brethren love and affection and respect equally for all, irrespective of above all, if the affairs of our country, nation, land, history, culture, religion, and preaching, are interfered with a foxy-trick to implicate national politics, it would be dealt with severely howsoever great or small, black or white and so on with all the might but without a single word to finish to the end, even if we are left by a single person with full of injuries lying in the pool of blood."
Intense words.
Me in front of a temple entrance.
Mr. Yoon, our Thai friend, on the first day across the border.
Mr. Yoon and Ali (in the back), rode with us to Yangoon before returning to Thailand.
TREES. There was an awesome tree canopy like this over much of the road in Myanmar. It was like natural air conditioning.
Mike entertains some village kids with his flag flag.
Mr. Yoon (right) and Ali(left) head out after a break.
All the bikes, leaned up against one another, like a game of Jenga.
Lemme get some sleep guys!
I'm not sure how much good this thing does for putting out fires. Maybe just a collector's item.
Check out this clock with the Burmese numbers on it. And that guy's shirt pattern next to the column.
I have a good photo of this lady in another post, but I thought I'd include this one of us together to illustrate just how tiny she was, and how big her newspaper cigarette is. I think it might have been drugs.
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Don't worry, the bike's ok, there was just nowhere to lean it up.
Big city livin', Myanmar style.
Ornately decorated, new but modeled on antique sewing machines, made in India and China, for sale in Myanmar.
Lovely ladies laying asphalt.
A bit of unexpectedly homo-erotic advertising.
I always forget the name of this game, but guys in Myanmar were playing it all the time. It's like hacky-sack but with a rattan ball. Needless to say, I'm no good at it.
Our lady cyclists pulling in for a meal stop.
Mirek and his train on the road.
Katya and Daniella and I share a meal.
The bike, it's still there. This time on a bridge.
This is what happens when I move into a hotel room.
Puri and Thali just before crossing over from Tamu to Moreh.
Mike and some raucously drunk guys driving around on their motorcycle. Hope they made it through to the end of the day.
This entire village came out to the road and cheered us on as we passed, like it was the tour-de-France or something.
Mirek jumping over his bike.
This policeman rode ahead of us on his scooter for HOURS, making we made it to the next town, and maybe also that we didn't disseminate any subversive information to the local populace.
Sometimes everybody needs a little push.
Break time for the shakies.
Now it's my turn to do something silly next to my bike.
This just cannot be safe.
Yet another beer and meal combo to while away the hottest hours of the day.
Me, in my tent, on top of a building.
We met this cool dude, who had lived in the US for several years before returning home!
Mike and I leave an edible present for our friends behind us. On this particular day, we were in the middle of nowhere, and there were no shops or restaurants, so we had to subsist on cookies for most of the day.
Goin' to work!
Some older ladies and their breakfast club meeting.
Katya and I relax in our hammocks before hitting the road again.
Happy driver and his Model-T truck. I have no idea how they keep these things running.
Words of wisdom from (B)order (R)oads (O)rganization, the Indian government org that maintains all the out of the way roads in India . They built the last couple hundred KM of our road in Myanmar, and this was the first of many clever signs we saw encouraging us to drive slow, be safe, and make it home to our wives.
Mike, being all hardcore and crossing a river.
The I Love You machine.
My dream car, and probably the nicest vehicle we saw in Myanmar.
Finally, this was on the wall at the immigration post in Tamu, just before crossing into India. It reads, "Myanma Spirit: The simple-minded Myanmars have no envy against those having fair complexions, nor hatred for the brownishs; nor differentiate with the blackishs; nor hostile to those of different faiths. They have brethren love and affection and respect equally for all, irrespective of above all, if the affairs of our country, nation, land, history, culture, religion, and preaching, are interfered with a foxy-trick to implicate national politics, it would be dealt with severely howsoever great or small, black or white and so on with all the might but without a single word to finish to the end, even if we are left by a single person with full of injuries lying in the pool of blood."
Intense words.
