Hotel California

We never made it to Burma.  Who would've known that the obstacle would be Thailand?  The only way in and out was Bangkok, and the international airport has been occupied and shut down by an anti-government minority for nearly a week now, with no end in sight.  Like Hotel California, you can check out, but you can never leave...

Initially, we waited around for a couple days, just idling and adjusting plans.  One day, we bussed it over to Kanchanaburi, sight of the infamous Bridge over the River Kwai.  Set along the quiet river, it was the focal point of the "Death Railway,"  Japan's attempt to build a line through Southeast Asia into Burma during WWII.  The museum and an Allied war cemetary were moving.

On a lark, I had decided to email Felix, one of my former colleagues with MSF in Homa Bay.  I heard he was sent somewhere in Southeast Asia, but he was actually in Bangkok!  As we left Kenya, neither of us thought we would see the other again, but here we were, sharing a bottle of Chilean wine and reflecting on this craziness.

Then any hopes for flying out faded by the day.  Bangkok became tiresome in a hurry -- once we had made up our minds to leave, staying any longer became loathsome.  But we were still bound to the tickets to Yangon, and getting a refund (we haven't actually yet) was an engaging experience.