A lesson in class

Two days ago in Mandalay, I literally sunk to a new low and had the most embarrassing moment of my life (at least this year).

What I’ll write is that when you’re getting from one temple to another and you think about crossing (what you think is) a wide ditch against the cries of some Myanmar people who try to direct you 10 metres over to your left to a bamboo footpath, follow their advice! Because the ditch was actually a moat and I ended up knee deep in murky, disgusting, sewer-like water while fighting to stay on my feet.

A couple locals helped me up while I struggled to maintain my balance. One man repaired my flip-flops, and another man took me across the street to a restaurant where he poured water from a big bucket over my pants, my legs, my feet, and my hands. A girl that worked there gave me soap so I could disinfect. There were a lot of onlookers and while I was laughing at myself at the absurdity of my situation, they just smiled politely and wished me well. I got a lesson in humility but I learned even more about class. Helpless and vulnerable, I was the recipient of mercy and compassion.

When you travel, you remember a day for different reasons – sometimes, it’s being somewhere indescribably beautiful; sometimes, it’s doing something you’ve never done before. In this instance, it’s because of how I was treated by these people of Myanmar and one more reason why I love this country.

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