On the jetty

The three of us walked down to the "jetty" (a muddy flat by the river covered with garbage and tents) and asked about hiring a boat. We found a guy who would take us across the river to a village. The village turned out to be the poorest I've seen yet. Set up on a plain, the people lived in simple huts of bamboo with thatched roofs, which didn't look permanent. Some of the huts consisted of one room with just the bamboo wall separating the family from their pigsty. But even though they were poor and dirty, they seemed happy. The children were playing, some guys were playing the volleyball-like game where you can only use your feet and head, and other men were gambling on a billiards-like game. Then our friend took us further upriver and we got out and walked back to town. Besides stopping for delicious strawberry milkshakes, nothing exciting happened. I would rather be alone, since more interesting things seem to happen, then.

While eating dinner and chatting with the owner of the restaurant, who spoke perfect English, I was introduced to a magnificent man and his flying machine. I read about this guy in "Welcome to Burma." He's been building a helicopter for 20 years. It's all done now, but he needs a bigger engine. He's working as a guide now, and offered to show me around. I may go with him tomorrow, instead of with the guy with the WWII jeep who Noel met.

I've had the shits for five days, and the're not going away, even with my new diet. So I started a course of Cipro antibiotics tonight.