The first few days in a new place are always fascinating and frustrating. Your ability to communicate is so limited that any tiny success in that department feels like a huge triumph. At this stage, getting on the wrong bus isn’t a big deal, because you’re not usually rushing to get somewhere, and something you discover while getting lost will likely come in handy next time. Even catching the eye of the waiter—a somehow more difficult task in these parts than where I was born—seems especially satisfying.
Mostly I spend my time networking and looking for paying work. Every night during my first week I had dinner with somebody new. I try to act as if I know what I’m doing, all the while sensing that I’m just a little bit off target most of the time. Everybody admires the effort, but they can see I don’t really get it yet. Happily, I am middle-aged and mature. Situations like these don’t intimidate me in the way they might have in my 20s. With a little luck I’ll be drawing a salary before the month is out.
Last weekend I took a wee break from the job search and popped up north to walk in the Inle watershed. Here’s a writeup about that trip, which was another confirmation that moving to Myanmar was the right move.
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