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It is still dark outside when you and your driver arrive at the Began, Myanmar,

Riverfront. Your chilly and exhilarating journey through the early morning streets,

empty of everyone but you, has led you here. A last sip of warm tea from a thermos,

and you are ready to get going. The took-took driver helps you down from his sputtering mototaxi,

and gently shepherds you across a nearly pitch black sandy beach,

toward a series of lights at the water's edge.

You listen in the darkness to your own footsteps pressing into the damp sound.

You realise you can hear the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears as you follow the lights

that seem to bob up and down. A few cautious steps more, and the inky blackness

gives way to a narrow flashlight beam. The light comes from the hand of a young sailor.

He smiles at you, directing you toward a wooden gang plank, laid across the lapping tide.

With a polite nod, he bids you to enter the waiting boat.

You thank the driver as he delivers you safely into the care of your boat's aball crew.

Climbing aboard the four deck of the watercraft, you take stock of what little you can see of your

surroundings. You seem to be on a medium-sized river cruiser, draped artfully from bow to

stone in glowing light bulbs on a string. You listen to the river's languid waters

clap against the boat's sides. It's a calming thud that caresses the ship, beckoning the craft,

...