When you book a double room in a Burmese hotel, it comes with one big bed or with two twin beds. In booking my hotel room, I reserved a double room, emphasizing two SEPARATE twin beds and then requested an EXTRA and SEPARATE bed. (They charge by the person in Burma, not by the room size.)
Now imagine having two twin beds in a room. Logically, where should the third bed be placed?
Obviously, the last bed should be placed at the foot of the two twin beds to allow for personal space between all the beds.
Not the Burmese way. Upon entering our first triple hotel room, our beds were pushed together a la slumber party. One BIG bed for the three of us. Since my brother and I arrived at Hupin Hotel in Inle Lake before our third roommate, we both claimed the "bookend" beds. Additionally, our communal bed(s) had footboard(s), such that the person sleeping bitch would have to climb over the footboard to get out of bed (or climb over his bedmate).
For those who know me, I live, sleep, and travel alone. This was a major departure for me. As I crawled into bed that first night, I made sure my pillow was perfectly centered on my one-third of the bed and that my blankets and sheets were not co-mingling. I put on the earphones to my iPod, shut my eyes, and pretended I was alone.
As I listened to Death Cab for Cutie's Plans on repeat, I could not fall asleep. I turned over my pillow to feel the cool side against my cheek. I opened my eyes and peered over at my neighbor sleeping peacefully. I got up to go to the bathroom twice, maybe three times. By now, I am losing track of time, and my cheap Thai watch does not glow in the dark, (but ticks very loudly). My iPod is set to PST before daylight savings, which I can't recall is behind or ahead an hour, and lastly, Burma is a half hour different from other Southeast Asian countries. It was impossible for me to do the math at this point.
I finally sat up in bed and turned on the lights to read. As I am reading, my bedmate wakes up, looks over at me, and proceeds to go right back to sleep. Infuriating.
The next morning, he asked, "Why were you reading Jane Austen in the middle of the night?"
"I was not reading Jane Austen. It was Somerset Maugham," I answered haughtily. I did not reveal to him that I am actually a modern Janeite (as opposed to an original Janeite).
"It looked like the cover of Wuthering Heights."
"Isn't Wuthering Heights by Bronte?" I knew it wasn't by Austen, but I didn't want to reveal my Janeitism.
He shrugged not seeming to care one way or the other.
***
I savor my alone time, where I can read Jane Austen in the middle of night, watch BBC's Pride and Prejudice dvd set, and/or eat saltines and strawberry jam sandwiches without justification. I love spreading my toiletries on top of the vanity table and then lining them up in order of use, and most importantly, I didn't want to be observed doing these things. As the days went by, my anxiety at sharing a triple room loomed larger until the night I woke up screaming.
During the middle of the sixth night, the sound of my own distressed voice woke me up in a panic. I sat up immediately and looked over to the right. David was sitting up in bed looking right at me.
"I had a nightmare?" I whispered hoarsely.
"Yes, you did," he answered.
"Ok."
With that gentle confirmation, I fell soundly back asleep. The next morning, I recalled what had happened. Usually when I have a nightmare, it is nearly impossible for me to fall back asleep. My mind races and my heart beats quickly. I told David that when I woke up last night I was a bit startled to see him sitting up in bed.
He replied, "I just wanted to be there."
And that's exactly what he did. He told me that my nightmare had actually inspired him to have a nightmare of his own. Maybe there was a conservation of nightmares theory in effect that night. Anyhow, I thanked him, and I really meant it. Perhaps it's not so bad to share a room after all.
Now imagine having two twin beds in a room. Logically, where should the third bed be placed?
Obviously, the last bed should be placed at the foot of the two twin beds to allow for personal space between all the beds.
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| Hupin Hotel, Inle Lake |
Not the Burmese way. Upon entering our first triple hotel room, our beds were pushed together a la slumber party. One BIG bed for the three of us. Since my brother and I arrived at Hupin Hotel in Inle Lake before our third roommate, we both claimed the "bookend" beds. Additionally, our communal bed(s) had footboard(s), such that the person sleeping bitch would have to climb over the footboard to get out of bed (or climb over his bedmate).
For those who know me, I live, sleep, and travel alone. This was a major departure for me. As I crawled into bed that first night, I made sure my pillow was perfectly centered on my one-third of the bed and that my blankets and sheets were not co-mingling. I put on the earphones to my iPod, shut my eyes, and pretended I was alone.
As I listened to Death Cab for Cutie's Plans on repeat, I could not fall asleep. I turned over my pillow to feel the cool side against my cheek. I opened my eyes and peered over at my neighbor sleeping peacefully. I got up to go to the bathroom twice, maybe three times. By now, I am losing track of time, and my cheap Thai watch does not glow in the dark, (but ticks very loudly). My iPod is set to PST before daylight savings, which I can't recall is behind or ahead an hour, and lastly, Burma is a half hour different from other Southeast Asian countries. It was impossible for me to do the math at this point.
I finally sat up in bed and turned on the lights to read. As I am reading, my bedmate wakes up, looks over at me, and proceeds to go right back to sleep. Infuriating.
The next morning, he asked, "Why were you reading Jane Austen in the middle of the night?"
"I was not reading Jane Austen. It was Somerset Maugham," I answered haughtily. I did not reveal to him that I am actually a modern Janeite (as opposed to an original Janeite).
"It looked like the cover of Wuthering Heights."
"Isn't Wuthering Heights by Bronte?" I knew it wasn't by Austen, but I didn't want to reveal my Janeitism.
He shrugged not seeming to care one way or the other.
***
I savor my alone time, where I can read Jane Austen in the middle of night, watch BBC's Pride and Prejudice dvd set, and/or eat saltines and strawberry jam sandwiches without justification. I love spreading my toiletries on top of the vanity table and then lining them up in order of use, and most importantly, I didn't want to be observed doing these things. As the days went by, my anxiety at sharing a triple room loomed larger until the night I woke up screaming.
During the middle of the sixth night, the sound of my own distressed voice woke me up in a panic. I sat up immediately and looked over to the right. David was sitting up in bed looking right at me.
"I had a nightmare?" I whispered hoarsely.
"Yes, you did," he answered.
"Ok."
With that gentle confirmation, I fell soundly back asleep. The next morning, I recalled what had happened. Usually when I have a nightmare, it is nearly impossible for me to fall back asleep. My mind races and my heart beats quickly. I told David that when I woke up last night I was a bit startled to see him sitting up in bed.
He replied, "I just wanted to be there."
And that's exactly what he did. He told me that my nightmare had actually inspired him to have a nightmare of his own. Maybe there was a conservation of nightmares theory in effect that night. Anyhow, I thanked him, and I really meant it. Perhaps it's not so bad to share a room after all.
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