Inle Lake

Feeling better about the experience: able to laugh and appreciate it. But still feels like a great escape when our very own hammering boat and two French girls, our companions in the dawn wait, rescue us.

A blissfully indulgent day, enjoying being good tourists and doing the tourist thing without a hint of contradiction or hypocrisy. Fantastic to just be driven around, only required to name what we desire to purchase next, and dispense the cash; long discussions with the girls, recent graduates interested in the aid business, overlooking temples golden in the afternoon light. Suits our current need to spout perfectly, poor things.

Each village has a craft speciality: dying, weaving, silver, parasols, cigarettes, pottery. Behind each tourist shop looms and sewing machines clack and dyed threads hand out to dry, local sweat shops supplying the hordes. Seems a good alternative to immigration and despite the grumbles about environmental sustainability, clearly the locals are fully benefiting from this one.

We cruise back to town in the setting sun with warm beer. Violet and pink over the calm lake.