About a magical arrival in Bagan last night.  About being overwhelmed today.  About making a plan.  About getting out slowly.  About superstitions and UFOs.

The approach toward Bagan last night on the slow ferry was nothing less than spectacular.  Pakokku was our last stop.  Several women had boarded the boat with beautiful handwoven blankets they wanted to sell.  But they were also offering trade for perfumes, lotions, shampoo and soaps — anything smelling good, anything of foreign origin.  I was so reminded of my life in East Germany where we had soaps, of course, but people and packages from the West always smelled so wonderfully different.  They smelled of freedom, of things beyond reach.  I would have loved to just give these women anything that smelled foreign, but I had parceled out only a tiny amount of perfume and lotion to take on this trip, both gone by now.… VIEW PHOTOS AND READ THE WHOLE STORY