Why People Are Awesome l Yangon, Myanmar (Burma)

                                     

I left my camera in a taxi the other day. In Burma.

The camera that feeds me. The camera that I love. The camera that pays my rent and shapes the way I see the world.

Let me just start this story by letting you know that I got my camera back. And with no thanks to my own actions. I got my camera back because People. Are. Awesome.

It took about 7 seconds to notice that my backpack wasn't with me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. That was long enough for the taxi to disappear around the corner, even after a good flip-flop sprint after it. We stood out there on the street for a few hours. It was night. Everything was closed, even the police station across the street. "I'm sure he'll bring it back," I thought. "There's no way this can be happening. I've never done something this stupid, so I must get a freebie, right?" I was sure he would get off his shift, notice the bag in the backseat, and come right back to drop it off. I waited. I waited some more.

Before dawn, when the monks started walking down the middle of the street to collect alms, I decided it was time to go inside.

There's a chance insurance would have covered it, but try getting a police report in Myanmar.

Also... try dealing with an insurance company.

I woke up a couple hours later, trying to figure out what to do, and talked to the guys at the hotel. "Did you get the taxi number?" they said? "No? Then he's not coming back."

"People are pretty cool here," my friend Taylor told me. "He probably won't even think about selling your camera, and who would he even sell it to if he did?"

I sat. I sulked. I tried to remain unattached, in the midst of my Buddha dominant surroundings. But the reality is... if I want a job, it needs to be replaced.

At 2pm L.A. showed up in the hotel lobby. (Name changed).

Let me tell you a little bit about L.A.

Our hero

Ian and I met him down by the pier at Botataung Pagoda, a few days before the camera debaucle. He was super friendly and charismatic and wanted to practice his English with us. We chatted for a while. I took some photos of him and his girlfriend. He asked where we were staying. We avoided the question. 

Botataung Pagoda

I've made it a practice to not tell people where I'm staying. Number one, I usually have the aformentioned camera livelihood gear with me. Number two, I've had some stalkers in foreign countries. Not the kind you would necessarily expect, either. Yes, I've had Burmese spies follow me on motorbikes, but I've also had 16-year-old female students show up in my lobby and wait all day for me to show up. Sh*t can get weird when you're a charismatic, friendly white woman traveling far from home.

So we avoided the question. "Oh, are you staying at Yoma Hotel?"

"No."

"Are you staying at Sunflower?"

"No."

And finally I grew weary of acting shady and just decided to tell him. It's exhausting being suspicious of people all the time, even in a country where you've been followed by spies. Things are changing here, after all.

So we told L.A. where we were staying. We trusted that he was a genuinely kind and wonderful person, and he surpassed all of our expectations.

Because when I lost my camera in a cab, I had his info on a little sheet of paper. He was so lovely that I wanted to make sure to send him his photos.

An email address and a USA phone number don't get your camera returned to you when your taxi driver doesn't use the internet.

The driver called L.A., the only local number in my whole bag. L.A. didn't have my number, but we had fortunately decided to tell him where we were staying.

He came to our hotel. He arranged for the driver to bring back the camera. He insisted to come back at 6pm to mediate and translate because, as he said, "It is my duty."

This is Burma.

Hear what you will about government oppression on the news, protests, corruption... this is Burma on the ground level, with all the other crap stripped away.

I practically had to force L.A. to let me buy him dinner for $1.

The taxi driver had asked only for some money for his time to drive back from his home, which was an hour away. I gave him triple.

The kindness of these two people makes me hopeful about the world, and humble.

I go off and travel by myself a lot. And I can't tell you how many people (probably with very little travel experience) have told me, "Don't trust anyone."

To them, I ask this: What's the point of traveling?

What's the point of anything if you don't trust other people?

Because I am a white woman, in Africa, in Asia, it does not mean that everyone is out to get me.

It does not mean that I will end up dead. It does not mean that I will get robbed.

It means that I need to read what's going on around me and be an aware person. It means I have to trust those who I feel good about, shy away from those I feel are shady, and have the humility and strength to question and change my judgement part way through any interaction.

People are awesome.

2 people specifically saved my trip, my spirit, and my trust in people.

I want to thank them from the bottom of my heart for their honesty and efforts to right something that was definitely my wrong.

And to you, reader, I challenge you to trust someone today. Drop that skepticism with your taxi driver, the cashier at the grocery store, the cop on your street corner. Just be a good human. And change your default to assuming that people are awesome.