At the same time, I am incredibly sad that my first big adventure is over. I miss the people I met, the challenge and excitement of facing the unexpected day in and day out, even the food (no, really!). It doesn’t help that a bunch of friends I left behind immediately jumped into a citywide, multi-day water gun fight in Chiang Mai for Songkran, Thailand’s New Year celebration; moved on to adventure sports in New Zealand; or just plain got to stay in tropical (or cultural) paradise.

I still have a lot of processing to do. Memories and experiences I “forgot” creep up at random times during the day, and it’s been fun to share stories and details as I remember them. I kind of can’t believe these things even happened. But what I can do right now is return to why I did this in the first place.

Asia was about taking a risk, about doing something really scary, about getting out of a pattern of saying “I can’t.” It was about using a crazy experience to be better, to get over the fear of failure, to maybe figure out what I want out of life. It was about learning to embrace the unexpected, the things that hit me in the face and those that just quietly pop up over and over until I finally catch on, about deviating from what I thought I wanted to do what will ultimately make me happy. And boyyyyyyy have I had some wonderful and unplanned things come my way since I returned home. The big risks, the uncertainty, the running leap off of the cliff — these things got me to where I am now. They were 100 percent worth it, and I am reminded of this every. single. day.

If I’m being honest, though, I’m overwhelmed in the best possible way by it all. There are frequent tears (my mother will be the first to inform you that this is highly unusual, as I am not emotional, ever), and I just have to take deep breaths and live one day at a time, just as I did when confronted with the daily challenges of traveling in Asia.

[See that? Life skills.]

Now that I am no longer halfway around the world, what happens to this blog? Good news — the adventure actually isn’t over. I’m about to hit the road again, only this time I get to take along a massive rolling suitcase and a bike bag instead of a 60L backpack.

There’s a company out there that plans to pay me to travel to amazing places, ride bikes, revel in adventure, and interact with interesting people. It feels like a fantasy, and I keep expecting a phone call that begins with “Yeah, oops, we made a mistake in hiring you…” (Note to my employer, please, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, do not do this.) It’s a work hard/play hard type of job that falls well outside of the traditional realm of 9-5 office work, and though it’ll be incredibly challenging, it means I’ll never have to sit behind a desk or in front of a computer screen. You could say I’m excited.

This won’t exactly be a return to your regularly scheduled programming. I won’t be able to write as frequently, and I may not be gallivanting around Asia, at least not immediately. However, I will continue to post dispatches from the road in keeping with Here&Afar’s original purpose. Are you in?

I don’t have any pictures of my meals in Pai even though I was there for two weeks. Sorry. Most of my breakfasts were at the gym, where we had a homecooked meal served right after our morning workout. Similar to what I made at cooking school back on the islands, this was really delicious and simple Thai cuisine — curries and fresh vegetables, always accompanied by a steamer full of rice. It was also a fun, communal experience that is most welcome after a really hard two hours in the ring.

Let’s talk about fruit shakes for a second. There is nothing more refreshing in 100-plus degree heat. It’s wonderful to have a glass of just fruit and ice to complement heavy, hot dishes. The best fruit shake in all of Asia is at Pai Country, just a few doors down from 7-Eleven. For a little more than $1 (for comparison’s sake, many shakes on the street are between $0.65 and $1), you get a HUGE glass with a thick and rich blend of any combination of fruit. I highly recommend the strawberry watermelon and the strawberry blueberry. The key, I discovered, is to blend the ice completely. I had one every single day, and I was guaranteed to find a group of fellow trainees there between workouts doing the same.

I had a fruit shake with many of my meals, so I tasted many, many varieties. In fact, I drank five on my last day in Pai. But the real debate came when I discovered, with a few friends, the Chocolate Dream at Nai’s Shake Stand on Walking Street. This drink contains high-quality cocoa, banana, soy milk, and sesame seeds, and it is the best (relatively healthy) dessert I have ever tasted. I could hardly wait until our daily 8:30 pm excursion. Nai got to know us and thought we were hysterical because we would stand around for 45 minutes fighting over whether Chocolate Dream or Banana Bran (Banana Brain, if your name is Dante) was better. BB had homemade peanut butter in it, but I think the answer is still obvious. It was probably a bad thing that we were all at fight camp because if it had been reduced to blows, shit would have gotten ugly.

I miss those fruit shakes.

Other great spots in Pai:

• The Witching Well — Definitely go for the apple pancakes, the tofu salad, and the vegetable baguette, but everything on the menu is fresh and wholesome and delicious.
• Na’s — This might be some of the best curry in town, and brown rice is a welcome alternative to the standard white.
• Burger Queen — The eggplant burger is a good veggie alternative, and the freshly made French fries are awesome.
• Charlie and Lek’s — More tasty curry, as well as crunchy salads and a kickass pumpkin/coconut dessert.
• Om Garden Cafe — This is a really chilled out place — in an already super chilled out town — that serves a mix of creative Western and Thai dishes. Try the Thai noodle salad.

Well, this is it. January 1 and the start of your journey seem so long ago, but suddenly you’re on a flight back across the Pacific wondering where the hell the last three months went.

Going home is bittersweet. You’re excited to see family and friends, to ride your bike, to cook and eat healthy and familiar foods, to sleep in your own bed, to escape the oppressive heat. But the world is big, and there’s so much more to see and do, and you definitely feel some sadness over the end of this particular adventure.

Extended travel is a lot like Ironman — you only get one first go-round, and even though you know there are more races (trips) in your future, you’ll never get the excitement, the experiences, the ups and downs of this one back. There is plenty more you wish you could have done in three months — or just stayed for three more. It wasn’t long enough.

The good news is that you maximized almost every minute, and you’re going home completely changed. Some of the elements of this transformation are obvious — for example, you’re more confident, relaxed, curious, and brave; your communication skills and your ability to walk into unfamiliar situations have vastly improved; and you’re so much more energized by and appreciative of other people and cultures.

You’ll continue to discover things in the coming weeks and months as you process what you experienced, and that’s really exciting.

You’re also bringing back relationships with some of the coolest individuals on the planet. These are your people. They come from incredibly different backgrounds, but they’re on the road too, and they GET you. They’re the kind of friends you get to know on a deep and intense level within hours of meeting, the kind you can pass hours with talking about goals and dreams, the kind that (for now) would rather work odd jobs every few months than develop long-term careers that keep them stuck at home, the kind that understands that going on a big trip doesn’t “get travel out of your system.” On the contrary, this type of adventure makes travel an essential part of your soul.

So guess what you’re doing right now? Planning your next one, of course.

A few weeks ago, you could have (and would have) written an entirely different letter. You were in a challenging place and thought maybe you’d had enough of this whole backpacking thing. You had in mind what a fellow traveler told you at the beginning of your trip:

You know it’s time to go home when things stop surprising you.

You’ve met many people who are traveling for six months, a year, even several years, and they say they wouldn’t have it any other way. They don’t mind living out of backpacks and sleeping in different beds every night and spending entire days on cramped buses. On the flip side, you’ve found many more who — if they’re not just on a short holiday from work or school — believe that three to five months is the sweet spot of longish-term travel.

A little bit past the two-month mark, you did reach the point where you were no longer surprised by goats grazing on planters on the boardwalk, by rams tied to poles in front of city shops, by cows charging you as you attempt to dodge an endless stream of motos. It became normal to cross the street in stages because you were NEVER going to get an all-clear in both directions. You stopped trying to guess on which side of the road cars drive because you’d seen left and right and “confused” (Myanmar is technically right but most cars and infrastructure are set up for left). You stopped taking pictures. You couldn’t handle the idea of getting on yet another bus. You thought that maybe a month or two was all you’d attempt in the future.

It took an unexpected detour to realize that it’s not so much about the total time spent on the road — it’s about how you allocate that time. In two and a half months, you moved to a new place every three days, on average. You covered a lot of ground this way, and because you knew all along that you had just three months, this seemed like the right strategy. But it was exhausting, and so for the last two weeks, you unpacked your bag, put down some roots, developed a bit of a routine, and joined an awesome community in a really chilled-out town in Thailand. You could have stayed there for months, or you could have taken the energy you regained to head back out and see more. Now that you know that travel is a permanent part of your lifestyle, you can build in that downtime in future trips without feeling like you’re wasting your days away. It’s all part of developing your own style of travel.

This isn’t the end. So go take a shower barefoot, eat a bowl of cereal, and rest up for what’s coming next.

My project for the 48-hour minibus/bus/two plane marathon journey back to the USA is to sort through hours of GoPro footage, and then I promise I will write in great detail about what I’ve been up to for the past two weeks.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, it looks a little something like this:

10. MOVIE NIGHT

On one of my last nights in Yangon, instead of going to bed early, I went to the movies. Oz was playing in 3D at a cinema near my guesthouse, and tickets were $2, which is absurd compared to, oh, $16 back home? The film was in English without subtitles, and it was fun to watch with people for whom English is a second or third language because some of the subtle humor got lost in translation (literally). I met a lot of people in Myanmar who told me that they practice English by watching movies and listening to music, which explains the crowd. It’s also worth mentioning that everyone was required to stand for the national anthem before the movie started, which was awkward for me because I was the only foreigner in the whole theater and it’s not my national anthem. The movie wasn’t bad either!

9. KARAOKE & SOAP OPERAS

On the MegaBus from D.C. to New York, the name of the game is silence. Music, loud phone conversations, and other disruptive noise are sure to draw death stares from passengers. Not so on buses in Asia. Karaoke and soap opera DVDs blare at maximum volume at all hours (4am? Why not?) ensuring that sleeping, reading, and listening to anything via headphones is pretty much impossible. But even though the films were in Burmese, the plot lines were incredibly predictable and easy to follow: betrayal and death and romance. And the karaoke often incorporated recognizable Western tunes. My favorite? The music video that suddenly transitioned into “Just Dance” with pregnant teens walking a catwalk in the middle of a huge shopping mall. It was … weird.

8. TRANSPORTATION

Planes, trains, and automobiles in Asia are never-ending sources of fascination. Transportation in Myanmar offers fascination on crack. In addition to the bouncy, oft-derailed trains and off-roading motos, there are pickups trucks packed with 30 or more people seated in the truck bed, on the roof, and hanging out the back. There are families piled atop cargo on the roofs of buses. There are boats I would never deem seaworthy. I wish I had pictures of all of this, but suffice to say that no form of transit would meet even the lowest safety standards imaginable.

7. MONKS

Buddhist monks are everywhere in Asia, but they are EVERYWHERE in Myanmar. Most boys in Buddhist families spend at least a few weeks or months of their childhoods in a monastery, which means that there are lots of little novices running around with their crimson robes and shaved heads — some as young as five or six years old. Can you imagine getting a six-year-old to hold still for anything, much less any sort of meditation or chores? Myanmar is also the only place I saw nuns, also of all ages.

6. TEA SHOPS

I spent a lot of time in tea shops, which is pretty much the most Burmese way to pass the hours. Tea shops can be proper restaurant spaces with permanent furniture or pop-up street stalls with child-sized plastic stools and tables. There are no menus. Food choices range from pastries only to full platters of thali and bowls of noodles. Some are closed by late afternoon, others are open late to accommodate Premiere League soccer matches. No matter what, though, you’re guaranteed to find delicious tea and interesting company.

5. TEA

Oh, the tea. I probably already mentioned how much I loved the sweet milk tea in Myanmar, but I’ll say it again. I really LOVED the sweet milk tea — probably because the tiny cups were usually more condensed milk than actual tea. I also learned to love tea mix, which is basically powdered tea, powdered milk, and sugar in a perfect ratio for on-the-go goodness. All you need is hot water!

4. NOODLES

I know I lost my shit over noodles, but the truth is that the best three bowls of noodles I had in Asia were in Myanmar.

3. LONGYI

Longyi is the ubiquitous fashion choice for both men and women in Myanmar. I bought a longyi on day #2 partly out of necessity — Myanmar is quite conservative, and I felt uncomfortable in shorts and short skirts and actually couldn’t enter some pagodas without covering my legs. Of course, in my packing planning, I was thinking more about how to survive the hot-as-balls dry season than I was about covering more skin than necessary. Aside from that, though, I really loved how nearly everyone dressed in longyi and wanted to join in on the fun. I walked many circles around the Bogyoke Aung San market in Yangon before I found the perfect one. There are so many choices, and if what you want isn’t available ready-made, the seamstresses can whip one up for you in your favorite fabric in about 10 minutes.

The trick, as I learned, is to wear longyi to the morning market — the ladies manning the stalls get excited and point and smile. It’s a thoughtful and fun way to show interest in Burmese culture and traditions. My moto driver in Mawlamyine took me to his wife’s medical practice for lunch, and she complimented me on my longyi. She then proceeded to laugh hysterically when I hiked it up to climb back on the bike. Polite Burmese ladies ride sidesaddle. I am not a polite Burmese lady.

2. YANGON

Of all the cities I visited in Myanmar (and I really made the rounds), Yangon was by far my favorite. I can’t identify why, exactly — I think there are just some places that elicit deep, visceral reactions for no good reason.* Yangon isn’t particularly scenic, and there’s not a ton to do, but the people I met there were absolutely wonderful, and I really enjoyed wandering the streets, sitting by the lakes with a book, and passing whole afternoons in tea shops. In fact, when I was all out of sorts at the end of the month, I spent two additional days in Yangon before my flight out and totally fell in love with Myanmar all over again. I was excited and energized, and if I had gone back sooner, I maybe wouldn’t have had quite the same level of breakdown.

*Two possible things contributed to this: There are no motos allowed inside the city limits, which gives it a whole different feel from every other place in Asia. Also, it feels a bit more formal (professional?), which was a nice change from rural village life.

1. PEOPLE

Of course, the absolute best thing about Myanmar was the people I met there. From the very first day, when I ran into Nanda, to the very last, when I had tea and a long conversation about politics with Shiva, I was completely in awe the hospitality and friendly attitudes of everyone I encountered. I cannot say enough good things about the guesthouse and tea shop staff, the moto drivers, the guides, the bank employees, the locals who waved me over to have tea — please, Myanmar, never change!

The northeastern part of Shan State is fairly light on foreigners, much cooler than the south of the country, and full of opportunities to be active and to meet interesting people. It’s also one of the few places in Myanmar — in fact, in all of Asia — in which it’s easy to trek without a guide.

Most people who visit Hsipaw do at least a one-day roundtrip trek to Pankham, a Palaung village a few hours walk from the town. The trail wound through three or four other villages along the way, where I found lots of friendly faces — especially children waving and calling hello. There was a turn early on that I missed, which led to about an hour of wandering around lost, but eventually I got back on track and, thanks to a very brisk and sweaty pace up the steep dirt track, arrived for a late lunch at the home of a local man and friend of my Hsipaw guesthouse owner.

After lunch, a few other people from my guesthouse and I continued up to Taung Sant, a village located about a 1.5-2 hour hike past Pankham. I think we were the only group who did so, which meant we had the trail all to ourselves. I’m so glad we continued on — the second part of the hike was far more beautiful than the first. The road to Pankham was red dirt and completely exposed and light on sweeping views, but the section up to Taung Sant was shaded and green and very scenic.

After a wonderful home-cooked Palaung meal and a tutorial on a popular domino game called dozet, the other trekkers and I crashed on pallets on the floor. It’s early to bed and early to rise in these villages, as there’s little to do after dark.

The next day I headed back down to Hsipaw on my own. I was very tired and very dirty when I arrived back at my guesthouse, but it was pretty rewarding to have done the entire trek (of many miles over steep terrain) alone.

Once I learned a bit more about the area, I really wanted to check out Namhsan, a Palaung town much further up into the mountains that was rumored to be the “Switzerland of Myanmar.” It’s possible (I think) to do an unguided trek over several days, but I really preferred to do a guided four-day/three-night trip. Unfortunately, most guides require a minimum number of clients, and I’d missed the trip while I was on my way back from Taung Sant. So instead I hired a guide I’d met on said trek to take me up via motorbike and back down the following day. It was much more expensive and not what I originally wanted, but in the end the back of a moto was a fun and different way to see the area.

As I think I’ve said, Shan State is the origin of delicious black tea. There were mats of tea drying in the sun everywhere.

It was a bit smokey thanks to the dry heat and burning fields, but I think this is about as close as you’ll get to Switzerland in Myanmar.

This little girl and her mother were walking around one of the pagodas we visited, and she started imitating everything I did. She took her shoes off when I did and sat down beside me and placed her purse on the bench in the same position I’d left mine.

Namhsan is a sleepy little town. Most things are boarded up by dark — though, conversely, activity begins very early in the morning. It’s a conservative place with few foreigners, and I got a lot of weird looks as a single girl alone with a male guide.

So, the ride. On the way up, Aike Thein (my guide) drove on the main “road,” which was rough but mostly paved. It took between three and four hours from start to finish, and I was pretty ready to get off the back of the bike by the time we arrived but not totally sick of the ride.

Day two — the way back down the mountain — was far less comfortable. We took dirt trails instead of the main road, which originally sounded like a good idea because it would offer different views. And it did. We drove through many small villages and saw some pretty stunning valleys over the sides of steep cliffs just inches from the edge of the trail. But bumping down steep inclines and big rocks and huge crevices in the trail became pretty painful pretty fast.

Hours of off-roading later, we arrived at Aike Thein’s village, where we stopped at his home for lunch. I met his wife and three-month-old daughter, as well as his sister and brother and several cousins. He owns tea fields and returns to his village to help harvest them, but he spends most of his time hours away in Hsipaw leading foreigners on guided treks. He only sees his family once or twice a month. We had long conversations about the work he puts in to support his family and how much he wants to speak fluent English and to be a really experienced guide. He asked me to correct his grammar and took notes every time I made a suggestion. I found so many people in Myanmar who were extremely motivated to learn and to better their situations — it was inspiring.

Anyway, the simple vegetable and tofu curries Aike Thein’s wife made amounted to one of the best meals I had in Myanmar, and it was really lovely to spend time wandering around the village. The Palaung people have their own language and culture and traditions — distinct from the Burmese and Shan groups who also inhabit the surrounding mountains. It was yet another eye-opening experience in terms of the reality of everyday life in Myanmar.

We had another three hours of even rougher trails back to Hsipaw, and I was really happy to roll back into town around dinnertime. But, when I really thought about it, what’s more authentic than riding a moto on rural mountain roads just like the locals do day in and day out?

MOHINGA. A visit to Myanmar is not complete unless you have mohinga for breakfast. The unofficial national dish, mohinga consists of rice noodles in a fish paste soup along with garlic, lemongrass, onions, and pieces of something fried — maybe fish, maybe banana leaves, maybe corn fritters. Every bowl is a little bit different, and it sounds like a weird breakfast option, but I can guarantee it will not disappoint. Any tea shop is likely to serve it. Location: Yangon — Let Ywe Sin, less than one block northeast of Sule Pagoda.

SHAN NOODLES. This was the first type of noodles in Myanmar that really wowed me. Again, every bowl is a little bit different, but it’s basically rice noodles with chicken or pork (or vegetarian, if you request it) with onions, garlic, tomatoes, chili, and crushed peanuts served with fried tofu and pickled greens on the side. I started ordering this because it was one of the few dishes I knew how to say in Burmese (Shan khao swe), and it was so good that I continued to eat it for a lot of my meals in Shan State. Nothing topped my very first bowl, though! Location: Inle Lake — a tea shop on the road out of town from Mingalar Inn.

MONT DI. I didn’t know what Mont Di was when I ordered it at a roadside stall in Hsipaw (I’m still a bit unclear), but I think it’s another one of those dishes that is different depending on what region you’re in and who makes it. The bowl I had consisted of thick rice noodles with chickpea flower, spring onions, fish sauce, lime, and corn fritter pieces. It’s considered the spaghetti of Myanmar — basic, cheap, and flavorful — and it is definitely up there on my Best Of list. Location: Hsipaw — A street cart adjacent to Lily The Home Guesthouse.

MEESHAY. Another Shan dish, meeshay is sort of a kitchen sink noodle dish. It’s basically rice noodles and vegetables cooked in a clay pot and topped with boiled egg and a spicy curry sauce. It’s also called hot pot. Location: Hsipaw.

PALAUNG CURRIES. I think the rule that the best food is homemade generally rings true — unless your Russian host mom can’t do anything more than add water to powdered soup — because some of the best meals I had in Myanmar were in local homes. During my two treks to Palaung villages in Shan State, I had dinner with a home stay family and then lunch made by my guide’s wife. The meals were very simple: a variety of curries (pumpkin, eggplant, mixed vegetables), greens, and omelet served over rice, but I watched them cooking over open fires right there in my hosts’ one-room houses, and the fact that these were just normal, everyday dishes made them that much better. Location: Pankham and North Kun Huak villages, Shan State.

MOONSHINE. After hours of bouncing down the unpaved trails from Namhsan, my guide asked if I wanted to taste the local alcohol. Then he pulled up to this open shack on the side of the trail where a few shirtless guys were mostly just hanging out but also overseeing the brewing of moonshine. There were big oil barrels and plastic gas containers full of the strongest alcohol you’ve ever tasted. My guide poured me a glass, and I managed about two sips before I thought my tongue might burn off. Location: Deep in the mountains on the return trek from Namhsan to Hsipaw.

LAPHET THOKH. Tea leaf salad is another very well-known dish. Myanmar is one of the only countries in which people both drink and eat tea leaves. Laphet thokh is often found in markets, but I ate a delicious version made by Nanda’s mother when he took me on a tour of Dalla. Fermented lea leaves, tomatoes, fried beans — it’s odd but tasty. I think I could have developed a love for it had I eaten it multiple times.

THALI. The Indian population in Myanmar is quite large, and like many other Southeast Asian countries, Indian food is easy to find. Versions of thali are served for breakfast in tea shops, but there are plenty of stand-alone Indian restaurants and food stalls, especially in the big cities. I had a lot of great thali platters in Yangon (bottomless for about $1.25), but the best was in a small back-alley restaurant in Pyin Oo Lwin. Location: Krishna Restaurant.

BEQ NANBYA. This is another Indian-inspired dish found in tea shops. It’s usually served for breakfast. Naan and beans is about as light and simple as you can get. The best versions are baked fresh in an open outdoor oven.

FALOODA. You can thank Myanmar’s Indian population for this one too. Falooda is a dessert drink of milk, rose water, jelly, and coconut, sometimes served over ice cream and bread pudding custard.  I found different varieties in markets across the country, but any cold drink shop will serve it as well. Location: Yangon — Dessert shop on Anawratha Street several blocks east of Sule Paya Road.

LAPHET YEA & SANWINMAKIN. I loved teh tarik in Malaysia, but I think Myanmar’s sweet milk tea — laphet yea — might win top honors. You really can’t go wrong with a glass that’s half condensed milk. I drank far too many, and eventually I had to stop thinking about how unhealthy it was. Sanwinmakin is a semolina cake with coconut and raisins on top. It’s commonly served in tea shops, where waiters will bring you plates of pastries and snacks you don’t ask for — and you’re only charged for what you eat. Location: Yangon — Let Ywe Sin.

STRAWBERRIES. The fruit in Asia is incredible. I could probably live on the fresh mangos and pineapples and bananas and/or fruit shakes made from all of the above (I’d leave the durian, though). Strawberries have always been my favorite fruit, and Pyin Oo Lwin is known for its berry farms. The fruit doesn’t look like much compared to the big, bright red berries found in American supermarkets, but the flavor is far superior. Milkshakes, pastries, and jam made from local strawberries aren’t half bad either. Location: Pyin Oo Lwin — Golden Triangle Cafe.

TEA. Black tea is another awesome product of Myanmar, and the plants grown high in the hills of Shan State produce some of the best leaves in the world. When in Namhsan, I walked through a few “factories” and chatted with the families responsible for processing and packaging the leaves. And my guide is actually a tea farmer when he’s not leading people around the trails of Hsipaw and Chaukmye. I forgot to purchase tea when we were actually in Nahmsan, so I insisted he help me find a bag when we returned from our trek. He obliged — and taught me how to mix it with condensed milk and sugar for the perfect cup of laphet yea. I am taking bets on whether this makes it through U.S. customs without any questions. Location: Shan State.

Other dishes I tried include: mala hin, a Shan vegetable stirfry; kyay oh, another ubiquitous noodle dish made with pork or chicken and clear broth; biryani; beq tamin, or beans and rice; and all manner of fried noodles, rice, tofu, samosas, pancakes, etc. There was plenty that I missed, mostly because I didn’t know what to order!

The conclusion? Food in Myanmar is widely varied and heavily influenced by the traditions of individual states and surrounding countries. Thus, “Burmese” food isn’t only a representation of ethnic Burmese — it’s an incredible blend of cuisines. On the whole, it’s a bit oilier than other Asian food, but it’s distinct and delicious and I can’t wait to try to replicate some of it at home.

Then I got tired. And sick. I spent my 24 hours in Monywa mostly holed up in my (expensive) air-conditioned hotel room watching the news and sleeping. I arrived in Bagan and after only a few hours of seeing ancient temples got knocked on my ass with a fever and horrible nausea. Two days were lost to alternating between laying in bed completely motionless with my eyes closed and in the shade by the pool at the swanky resort I lucked into. There are worse ways to convalesce, I suppose. But after all that, plus an overnight, 11-hour journey on a too-cold bus followed by a daylong, 11-hour journey on a much-too-hot and bumpy train, the magic had pretty much worn off. I was 99 percent ready to turn right back around to Yangon, change my flight, and head to a beach in Thailand — fuck the expense.

Then I slept a solid 12 hours, took a long shower, began to feel slightly less queasy at the mere thought of food, and gave Mawlamyine a chance.

I’m glad I did — I accidentally saved the best city in Myanmar for last.

Despite a name that is hard to spell and even harder to pronounce (or maybe because of it?), Mawlamyine is a blend of all the things I’ve loved about my other stops here. It’s on the water, but unlike Yangon, the riverfront is clean and accessible and meant for sitting and drinking tea and reading. It’s Myanmar’s third largest city, so there’s activity and things to see, but the traffic is light and noise winds down early. It’s bounded on one side by gorgeous mountains. It’s only moderately hot with cool evenings. It’s GREEN. There’s a breeze. The people are wonderful and the tourists sparse. It is the Battambang I’ve been looking for. It is the ideal place, when you need a break, to just exist and not feel at all guilty about it.

That’s just what I did. I took my time getting out of bed.

I sat for four hours under a tree overlooking the waterfront, reading and “borrowing” wifi from an upscale hotel across the street.

I wandered through the local market, which was filled with very friendly vendors.

I hung out at Mahamuni Paya atop the hill that divides the town in half.

Two little girls who were running around the grounds started eyeing me cautiously, all the while scooting closer and closer, smiling and giggling, and then finally hammed it up for the camera.

I walked to Kyike Tan Lan Paya, also on said hill, where there is a panoramic view of the city and its surrounds, and y’all, it is gorgeous.

I found a shaded bench on which to read and smiled at crowds of visitors gawking at me and agreed to numerous requests from people who wanted to take my picture. There were others who just walked up with their cellphones and snapped away. I suppose the tourist boom hasn’t hit Mawlamyine just yet, and I’m a bit of an odd sight. And though I don’t mind, now I know how it feels when I stick my camera in someone’s face without asking.

I watched the sunset over the river. I think I need to do a “Best Of” post just for sunsets.

So I didn’t really “do” a whole lot — unless reading almost an entire book counts — but at the end of the day I felt reenergized, slightly less sick, and very relieved that I didn’t up and leave the moment I arrived.

And you know what? It’s OK.

Unlike Angkor, the individual beehive temples (which you can enter) and stupas (which you cannot) are not impressive in and of themselves. Rather, it is the sheer number and scale of the city as a whole, and the fact that it is all abandoned, that will make your jaw drop.

Also unlike Angkor, it is possible to have temples entirely to yourself.

Unfortunately, the minor stomach discomfort that began in Monywa turned into a full-blown fever and nausea fest that has now lasted on and off for nearly a week. I rode around the temples in the heat for a few hours on my first morning and then landed immobile in bed for the next day and a half — right up until it was time to catch an overnight bus back south to Yangon.

I missed some major sights, the landscape at sunrise, the monks doing their early-morning alms walk between Nyuang Oo and Old Bagan.

At least I got to see one sunset.

While there was plenty I wanted to do in Bagan that I just didn’t make it to, it was the best possible place to be sick if only because I was staying in a resort hotel with comfortable beds, a spa, and a pool. How does one manage that on a tight budget, you ask? I met a lovely young French couple on the bus and inquired as to where they were staying in hopes we could at least share a taxi, and without hesitating they invited me to add an extra bed to their room — I just had to cover the cost of the cot. When you have been living in hostels and cheap hotels for a few months, you do not turn down such offers. And they were incredibly gracious about my unfortunate illness. I cannot thank them enough.

Pyin Oo Lwin is known for its still-standing Tudor buildings and its strawberries and its horse-drawn carriages and its botanic gardens. The gardens sounded like a good way to pass a day, so I rented a bike and headed there.

They might have been the most meticulously maintained gardens I’ve ever visited. You’d never know that it’s the middle of the dry season all across Asia.

There were lots of families picnicking, children feeding fish in the pond, monks taking in the fresh air — great people watching.

Peacocks and black swans (not of the Natalie Portman ballet thriller film variety) are not things you find in everyday life.

The gardens were so peaceful (but also stimulating) that I spent two whole days there, reading and observing and thinking. On the second day, I hung out at the small pool, where a young woman from Monywa approached me and asked me to give her a swimming lesson. Her husband and daughter sat on the side and giggled while we tried to float and doggie paddle. It was a blast.

Flowers are a staple in the local markets, on the streets, you name it.

So are strawberries. Sweet, delicious strawberries.

Another holdover from the colonial years is the presence of churches and convents. There are so many Buddhist pagodas and stupas across Myanmar that I sort of forgot that other religions exist, and the country is actually fairly tolerant of this diversity. Religion isn’t something the military government beat out of its citizens. Or, rather, they practice equal opportunity discrimination or oppression based more on ethnic heritage and political opposition than spiritual beliefs.

Anyway. There’s a really cool Christian cemetery north of the railway station. It’s fallen into serious disrepair — there’s lots of trash, most of the headstones are broken, and herds of cows graze on what little grass is left — but it’s an interesting snapshot of history.

There are lots of British soldiers and government and church leaders and their wives and children buried there, as well as some Burmese who joined the church. Burial dates range from the late 1800s to the 1970s, though I found a stone for a man who died in 2012. Presumably he was buried alongside his family.

I’d guess Pyin Oo Lwin is often overlooked in everyone’s hurry to get to Inle Lake and Mandalay and Bagan, but I found it to be another one of those low-key towns that’s lovely for its sights and even more for its atmosphere. I also had the best Indian food of all time there — but we’ll save that for another post.