The amber parasol

Ngwesaung Beach, Myanmar

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Two carrot beams spilled their golden light onto the road. Diesel coated the air, so that I could not tell if the ocean was close by. Regardless, this was Ngwesaung Beach.

The bus rumbled on and I stood looking up at the stars, wondering what to do next. All I had was the return ticket and a water bottle.

While my amphibious eyes adjusted to the dark, the glow of a lamp post in the distance signaled its presence. My flip flops slip slapped the silent ground. As I got closer to the light, another sound met mine: that of an animal running. My mind raced as my feet stood planted. By the time my thoughts caught up to me, I could make out teeth, pointed ears, bristly fur and the large paws of a dog. A dog running straight at me.

I inhaled, as he dashed into the light. Center stage, he bowed in play. I exhaled. Jumping into the ring, the match was set. We jumped and skipped and nipped and dashed into one another and I realized I was being herded towards the shore. The ripples of dunelets were flattened by Dog and I, as we settled into sleep.

Over the following days, our tracks would trace mosaics across Ngwesaung. Under the amber gaze of my shepherd, I spent the sunshine hours in contemplation of the Ayeyarwady waters. On the final day the waves were to claim our prints, the bus driver collected my ticket back to the monastery.