Bagan Myanmar
My last temple. The sky is pink, birds call, I am alone - in the back the wind blows.
It feels desolate and ancient.
The pages of time have turned back.

A nice drive home in the dark - the carriage roof down I can enjoy the full view. Bikes, walkers, all on the dark road - cars and small trucks honk themselves a clearing.The air is not as perfumed as Cambodia - as Siem Reap really.
Not wet here. It is a different beauty. On to Mandalay.

"I will never forget your kindness," said Boo Boo on the road to the airport.
I wrote him high recommendation in his book for other travelers. And I gave him extra money. I wish him well.
Dressed in a bright blue longyi and white tee shirt he and Cho-su are off. The little horse needs a rest.
Cho-su means"many beautiful".