Back to Malaysia

My last day in Myanmar was filled with emotional turbulences; I was somehow glad to leave this country, yet having spent 12 nights here I have developed a bonding with this unique country.

We woke up early to catch our bus back to Yangon's Au Mingalar's bus station, which we hope to grab a cab to the airport for our flight. The journey back was boringly uneventful, but I was grateful that we arrived Yangon in time. We wandered around amidst the horde of taxi drivers and touts, until we were content with one offering us 5000 kyats to share a taxi with another local. I was exhausted and would not really bother paying extra but my buddy was still enthusiastic enough to go around bargaining with the touts.

So, we dumped our bag packs and hopped onto the cab as we headed towards the airport. On the cab, I stared at the far horizon where lies Yangon, the old capital of Myanmar. The intense feeling of curiosity and enthusiasm when I first arrived this country was nowhere to be found; instead, it was a hearty feeling of ironically, content. I had seen enough of this country, and it was time to bid farewell and head for home.

The taxi arrived in the doorsteps of the departure terminal after 30 minutes; we disembarked, walked around the airport until it was time for check-in, and did some last minute shopping to use up our remaining kyats. Surprisingly, it is in the airport's duty free shops that I finally found the fridge magnets that I had been searching high and low for. However, it was a bit too costly so I only bought one for myself.

Our plane finally landed at 6 pm Myanmar time, and we boarded subsequently within 30 minutes. As the gigantic iron bird took off and headed southeast, I closed my eyes, laid my sore back and rested my weary mind with a grin.

"I survived Myanmar."