Two thousand seventeen. One of the most profound lessons I've come to this year.
As I'm riding on the back of a Burmese motorbike taxi, one hand death gripping my seat and the other on a bag of goods. My helmet strap is no longer on my chin, but choking my vocal cords, the helmet no where near protecting my actual head, but hanging on by a thread. There are NO traffic lights. NO stop signs. 1.25 million people in this city and we are blazing through intersections, rip roaring past buses... and the only warning prohibiting us from death in the black of the night is a constant blaring of the bikes' horn. And I think to myself: "Live April. Let go and let live."
It's all out of my control anyway. ✌🏼🏍
We only spent one night in Mandalay. We intended to get in and get going. But we were to tired for that. So after we made it home after our NASCAR bike ride, we slept in, did nothing - and caught the first bus back out to Hsipaw.