On my strolls though Mandalay I came across a very special place. Hidden from the hustle and bustle of the main roads following a passage through a slim alley lies a muslim enclave. Muslims are part of Myanmar since the 11th century AD.

In recent years this subject has brought out some very inconvenient realities. The ethnic minority faced several episodes of offense and social instability. You could tell from the gates that were surrounding the enclave. Memories from the jewish Getto in Venice sprung up my mind.

From what I experienced the first time I went to this place I was keen to show this to my partner in crime. So I went for three consecutive days to this place.

Today an old woman approached us. She brought beautiful and great smelling flowers. A part of them being blossoms of the local Thanaka tree (more on that later). Tossed them on a string and to a little bouquet and fixed them to the head of my travel partner. The woman was using her own hair needles to do so and vigorously rejected the ones offered as compensation.

The gesture seemed a little cliche at first but on the other hand I liked the feminine and innocent appeal that lies within. A young woman with flowers in her hair. Something that appears to be basic on first sight but turns out to be a manifold pleasure. To the eyes, to the nose and to my mind.