Along the road from Shwezigon Pagoda to the soya bean paste factory (to be posted tomorrow), we passed through a small village. Some of the roofs may be better constructed than centuries ago, and there’s the occasional satellite dish. A well-constructed little dry-goods store has proprietor’s quarters above. But really, little has changed here in all this time. The houses and many fences are still made of woven bamboo, and many of the roofs are thatch. The road is still dirt. Vehicles–what few there are–share the road with children and animals.

It’s not so different here from one generation to the next.

Many of the homes and stores in southeast Asia have little “spirit houses” in which the spirit of the place may dwell without invading the human habitation. In the cities, these are often made of concrete. Here in the village, though, the spirits live much like the humans do.

Now here’s that lovely dry-goods store, built (it proclaims in both Burmese and Anglo numerals) in 1983. These people are doing relatively very well indeed.

Here are some people who are, perhaps, not doing so well, but still, they have a boat. And waste not, want not. Empty provision sacks, sewn together, make fine sails for traveling along the wide Irrawady River.