Near the Tharapar Gate, there’s a small rice shop under the shadows of a cluster of trees. Though simple and humble, the shop is always bustling. Small tables and chairs are arranged in clusters. Since there are two other food stalls nearby, this small rice shop has been named Tharapar 3. Even without a signboard, people know it as the Tharapar Rice Shop, where Lunn Ya Kyaw was once treated to a meal.
Sitting on a small chair, Nansan examines the dishes brought to her with curiosity.
“This shop is affordable and serves good food, Nansan. For each dish, you only pay for what you eat.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I wanted you to experience this type of roadside dining. I’d feel bad feeding you at a lesser place.”
“No need to worry. I’m quite interested. Let’s try everything they have.”
“This shop is close to Ananda Temple and the Tharapar Gate, so after eating, we can easily walk through the gate to the old city.”
“That sounds convenient, Lunn.”
Nansan glances around at the people joyfully eating at the small tables as a waitress brings a plate of freshly fried chicken. Then, other dishes follow: fried fish, sour leaves with fish, fried fish paste with green beans, spicy fried dried fish, and fish in sour soup. Nansan eagerly tries them all.
After taking a bite of the spicy fried dried fish with a spoonful of rice, Nansan’s nose tingles and her cheeks flush.
“Whew! That’s spicy!”
“Is it too spicy for you, Nansan?”
“Yes, quite spicy!”
“Well, many from your side can’t handle much spice, but we love spicy food here.”
“I like spicy food too! Even though I’m Myanmar, I can handle it.”
Realizing her mistake, Nansan feels awkward. She had implied that Japanese people can’t handle spicy food, and it seemed Nansan wasn’t fond of such generalizations. Despite the heat making her sweat, she takes another bite of the spicy fried fish.
She wants to stop but doesn’t want to seem weak. So, she powers through, eating a spoonful of mixed greens, accidentally biting into some raw chili, causing her eyes to water.
“Nansan, stop, stop… Drink some water.”
With teary eyes, she quickly takes the cup of water he offers and drinks it all in one go. She wipes her eyes and looks at him, blushing with a little embarrassed smile, which made her seem even more endearing.
In moments like this, it seemed that they would soon form precious memories. After settling the bill, they head to the shade where their bicycles are parked. As they approach, they see Tamar on a motorcycle coming from the direction of the Tharapar Gate.
Tamar notices them and turns toward them with his usual wide grin. His face is painted with thanaka, and he wears his familiar long-sleeved shirt.
“Hey, Lunn Ya Kyaw!”
Tamar calls out loudly as he stops his bike near them.
“Where are you off to, Tamar?”
“Nowhere special. Just heading to Taungbi Village for a bit. How about you?”
Tamar glances at Nansan, then asks, “Who’s your friend, Lunn?”
“She’s my friend, Nansan. I’m showing her around. Nansan, this is my friend Tamar.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Nansan politely bows and greets Tamar in perfect Burmese, although her accent has a slight Japanese lilt. Tamar seems amused by this and exchanges glances with Lunn Ya Kyaw.
“Nice to meet you too, Nansan. I have some business to attend to, so I’ll be off. You two take care.”
Tamar rides off, leaving Nansan and Lunn to continue walking toward their bicycles. Nansan gives Lunn a curious look.
“Lunn…”
“Yes, Nansan?”
“He called you Lunn Ya Kyaw, huh?”
“Yes, many friends from Bagan call me that.”
“You seem quite close with Tamar. Are you childhood friends?”
“Yes, we’ve known each other for a long time.”
Nansan goes silent for a moment, then looks at Lunn again.
“Lunn, is that thanaka on his cheeks?”
“Yes, Nansan. It’s thanaka. It protects from the sun, which is why he wears it whenever he rides his motorcycle.”
“Maybe I should try wearing thanaka too, to protect from the sun.”
“You need thanaka stones and a special grinding stone to make it.”
“I can just buy them, right?”
“Yes, but you also need to know how to grind it properly. Do you know how?”
“Lunn, can’t you teach me?”
Lunn smiles at her without answering, then laughs softly.
“Men don’t usually teach others how to grind thanaka, Nansan. We only do it for kids, mothers, or our wives.”
“Oh, I see. So I’m none of those, huh?”
Lunn gently taps her head, making her feel slightly melancholic.
“Come on, let’s go.”
He takes his bike, and Nansan sits on the back seat. They ride to the bike rental shop, where they rent another bike and continue on their journey.
They pedal side by side along the winding red dirt paths, passing by one temple after another. The sun gradually descends behind the Buddhist pagodas of Bagan, casting its golden glow over the Irrawaddy River. Nansan and Lunn sit together at the Bu Pagoda, gazing at the red sun sinking into the horizon. For a moment, Nansan feels an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.
She isn’t the type to fall for someone so easily, nor is she a girl who gets emotionally attached. But in this moment, at sunset, she feels her heart ache with emotions she can’t quite explain.
“When do the cherry blossoms bloom in Japan?” Lunn suddenly asks, breaking the silence.
“By April, Lunn. In Japan, after a long winter of heavy snow, the cherry trees begin to bud around the end of March as the warmth returns. By mid-April, the whole island is in bloom from the southern regions to the northern tip of Hokkaido.”
“That’s when Japan becomes a Sakura Zone, right? From the sky, it looks like the whole island is covered in pink.”
“Yes, every city in Japan has carefully planted Sakura streets, and when the cherry blossoms bloom, the whole city is filled with the flowers.”
“Just like our Padauk trees. They bloom in April too, but they don’t last long.”
“Sakura is the same, Lunn. That’s why in Japan, people value the Sakura season so much. During that time, we have Hanami festivals.”
“Hanami?”
“Yes, Hanami means flower viewing. In big cities, people gather under the Sakura trees, spread out mats, and enjoy the sight of the falling petals. There are long lines of festival stalls where families and friends eat, drink, and have fun while admiring the flowers.”
“What’s your favorite flower, Nansan?”
“My favorite flower is the Sakura, Lunn.”
“Why?”
“Even though its bloom is short-lived, the Sakura gives its all to bloom as beautifully as possible. That’s why even the samurai and ninjas relate to it—they see it as a reflection of their own lives.”
“I want to love someone like the Sakura—someone who, even if they only have a short time, blooms with all their might.”
After saying this, Nansan turns away, unable to look him in the eye, and gazes at the sunset over Mt. Tantgyi. The soft glow of dusk reflects off the Irrawaddy River, and a cool breeze blows, signaling the coming night.
“Let’s head back, Nansan.”
“Yes, let’s go.”
Together, they leave the Bu Pagoda behind.
