No Title Yet Part 3
The smell of curry made her mouth water, and she stopped at a booth to buy some. It came in a plastic bag, with chopsticks, and the next booth had sticky rice steamed in banana leaves. She paid for her purchases, bowed her head, and headed for a park bench away from the hustle and bustle.
She noticed something moving past her foot, and focused in, thinking it was a gecko. The tiny lizards were everywhere. But it turned out to be some sort of millipede, 2 inches long and seemingly slithering over the cement on it's zillion eyelash legs. She shivered. It seemed the hotter it got, the bigger the bugs got. At least geckos were cute.
She watched the people walking past. It was always livelier at night, though the city trapped the heat for hours after sunset. Young women in tank-tops and jeans, old men in button down shortsleeved shirts and brown pants; grandma's in flowered prints - it seemed fashion didn't vary much no matter where she went. Some people maintained the traditional costumes, but most wore the modern trends. Even in the repressed dictatorship of Myanmar, the Burmese people wanted their Louis Vuitton bags and Levi's jeans.
The curry made her mouth burn in a way she'd come to enjoy. She ate a piece of cucumber to dull the tingling, but then returned to the curry, unable to resist the delicious medley of tastes. Her forehead beaded with sweat and she brushed it away with the back of her hand, a reflexive impulse she didn't notice herself doing anymore. She watched a family drive past, four people on a scooter. She loved these lands where the rules of the west just didn't apply. Not even physics or logic stood a chance in some corners of the world.
Eventually she tired of watching. The burning in her mouth had all but disappeared, and she headed toward the train station. It was time to move on . There was more world waiting for her. As per usual, the train arrived late, and was delayed before leaving, but she was used to that. Very few countries seemed to have trains that adhered to any semblance of a schedule.
The fan near her was broken, so she was bound for a hot, sleepless night of travel. She looked out the window, watching families say goodbye - women leaning out of the train windows to hold hands with their men until the last moment, like so many romantic movies being played out. She felt sad. There was never anyone to cry when she left a place, no warm embrace awaiting her at her destination. Suddenly she felt tired, worn, like the plodding ponies at the zoo, forever trudging forward but never getting anywhere. She deeply craved to go home, but where was that?
She noticed something moving past her foot, and focused in, thinking it was a gecko. The tiny lizards were everywhere. But it turned out to be some sort of millipede, 2 inches long and seemingly slithering over the cement on it's zillion eyelash legs. She shivered. It seemed the hotter it got, the bigger the bugs got. At least geckos were cute.
She watched the people walking past. It was always livelier at night, though the city trapped the heat for hours after sunset. Young women in tank-tops and jeans, old men in button down shortsleeved shirts and brown pants; grandma's in flowered prints - it seemed fashion didn't vary much no matter where she went. Some people maintained the traditional costumes, but most wore the modern trends. Even in the repressed dictatorship of Myanmar, the Burmese people wanted their Louis Vuitton bags and Levi's jeans.
The curry made her mouth burn in a way she'd come to enjoy. She ate a piece of cucumber to dull the tingling, but then returned to the curry, unable to resist the delicious medley of tastes. Her forehead beaded with sweat and she brushed it away with the back of her hand, a reflexive impulse she didn't notice herself doing anymore. She watched a family drive past, four people on a scooter. She loved these lands where the rules of the west just didn't apply. Not even physics or logic stood a chance in some corners of the world.
Eventually she tired of watching. The burning in her mouth had all but disappeared, and she headed toward the train station. It was time to move on . There was more world waiting for her. As per usual, the train arrived late, and was delayed before leaving, but she was used to that. Very few countries seemed to have trains that adhered to any semblance of a schedule.
The fan near her was broken, so she was bound for a hot, sleepless night of travel. She looked out the window, watching families say goodbye - women leaning out of the train windows to hold hands with their men until the last moment, like so many romantic movies being played out. She felt sad. There was never anyone to cry when she left a place, no warm embrace awaiting her at her destination. Suddenly she felt tired, worn, like the plodding ponies at the zoo, forever trudging forward but never getting anywhere. She deeply craved to go home, but where was that?
posted by Deirdre at 11:31 a.m.
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