It was the dead of a nearly moonless night when we left our hotel . . .

… to catch the 5:30 AM ferry from Bagan to Mandalay.

Yesterday, I was up early for a hot-air balloon ride over the plains of Bagan and the day before involved an early morning flight from Yangon. I’m looking forward to this full day of doing nothing.

I’m in Myanmar with a group of 14 women from an organization with which I have been involved for the last few years, Dining for Women (DFW). We’re here, in part, to visit with adolescent girls in “Colorful Girls Circles,” a program that was funded with a DFW grant a couple of years ago. The concept is simple, but desperately important in this impoverished country as they emerge from decades of repressive military rule: girls meet in after-school peer groups to participate in activities that will help them with confidence, decision-making and planning for their futures. The curriculum addresses cultural and religious differences in this country with over 100 different ethnicities. Girls are encouraged to stay in school when they are tempted to drop out to help take care of younger siblings or go to work in a factory. The girls learn about sex trafficking and domestic abuse. They learn about menstruation and feminine health – which otherwise is never addressed at home or in school.

There are more than 2,000 girls enrolled in these circles all over the country, and we’ll be visiting several of them while we’re here. But not today.

Today is all about the river.

The Ayeyarwady (formerly called the Irrawaddy) River is the lifeline of Myanmar, flowing 1,350 miles from the Himalayas in the north to the Andaman Sea. We were traveling upriver, from Bagan to Mandalay – a distance of only about 115 miles. There are several luxury vessels which ply this route – including the 5-star Road to Mandalay river ship – with linen tablecloths, massage treatments and swimming pools. Ours was not one of them. We were going local – on one of the government ferries. “No frills” was an understatement. We were all learning to go with the flow. And today we were going to be flowing on this river for about 12 hours!

At 7 AM, the “Dinning Room” opened and we eagerly redeemed our breakfast coupon for a hard-boiled egg, instant coffee and two slices of spongy white bread, toasted and smeared with mystery margarine and hot pink jelly.

We passed the hours in bamboo deck chairs, aiming our cameras left and right to snap photos of barges floating downriver laden with huge teak logs or those going upriver, loaded with bags of white rice grown in the southernmost delta region. Small wooden fishing boats, dusty villages and women washing clothes on the riverbank were common scenes as we cruised through this sparsely populated region.

It’s the dry season so the water level is low and the ship’s pilot had to carefully navigate around sand bars. At one point, a crew member at the bow was taking depth measurements with a long bamboo stick and calling out to the Captain. Someone translated for me: “eight feet.” Yikes … this is a pretty big boat and that doesn’t leave much margin for error! I was pleased to see a Buddhist altar up on the Bridge … and hoped that our Captain was a man of right action, in good standing with the river gods!

The tour company had arranged something special for us to help pass the time: a fortune teller. 

Astrology and superstition are entrenched in the Burmese culture – unrelated to Buddhism – and many people consult astrologers regarding naming their children, suitable marriage partners, etc. I had come prepared with my information – including the time of my birth. I’ve always had a healthy skepticism about such things but am always curious what the stars portend for my future.

I was surprised and disappointed to be told that I am having marital problems (I am not) and that there will be a divorce (I think not!). His other prediction was that I should avoid international travel for a year after I turn 61. Apparently, I will have an accident and injure my foot and be unable to walk. When I told him, through our tour guide’s translation, that I had no intention of ceasing to travel internationally, he scribbled something on a slip of paper and told me to carry it with me as a “protection symbol.” He explained that carrying this will mean that, “my accident will be less serious and my foot injury not as debilitating.”

He did have one piece of promising news for me. He told me that my book will be a success as long as I publish on a Thursday at 9:30 AM.

Comparing notes about his insights and predictions provided all in our group with plenty of laughs:

• Melanie was surprised to learn that she had two children!
• Ava, who is a veterinarian, was told that “your hands are poison.” (Which somehow translated to “your hands are medication.”)
• Alison was told that she knew her husband in a past life, that they had a good relationship, but that “he is very popular with women.”
• Janet was told she was “difficult to manage.”  (To which she said her husband would agree.)
• And Jamie was told she would “meet someone special next year.”  (Perhaps I should introduce her to my husband?!)

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Your feedback motivates me to stay up late every Thursday night writing these weekly blogs – even when I’m in Myanmar!