A Burmese Romance

By Thais Tirloni

Eden, a 24-year-old Italian girl, goes on vacation to Thailand with her mother. But what begins as a few days of rest and relaxation is transformed into a journey of profound emotional growth, enriched by both disappointments and passionate love that help Eden gain a better understanding of herself and what she truly wants. Lee and Aung, two Burmese boys she meets at the resort, will be the protagonists of this roller coaster ride of conflicting emotions and eye-opening experiences that changes her life forever.

Based on a true story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thais Tirloni
• Release date: Jul 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005249977

Book preview

A Burmese Romance

This first novel is dedicated to my parents, who’ve supported me during this period of personal growth.

1 Thailand

It was November 24th. The alarm rang at 5:20 a.m., jarring me awake well before sunrise. I stayed under the covers for a few minutes, staring blankly at the half-closed shutters through which a shaft of moonlight illuminated part of my face. Bea, my golden retriever, was at the foot of my bed, where she loved curling up on her pink rug until it was time for me to get up. When she heard the alarm she shuffled over, laying her head down beside me and giving me a wistful look. Even she could tell that something was about to change. I knew that this morning was going to be important, one of those mornings when you get up agitated like on the first day of school: you’re not hungry, but you force yourself to eat because you don’t want to face a long voyage on an empty stomach. That day we would be departing for Thailand for the third time, and I couldn’t have been happier or more electric with anticipation. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins like as a sprinter waiting for the starting gun, or a student anxiously awaiting the results of the final exam before graduation. I had waited impatiently for that day. The northern Italian winter was brutal: biting cold, fog, and gray skies provided the constant backdrop of those colorless days.

My mother Dana walked briskly into my room, and in her customarily gentle manner yelled: Wake up, Eden! It’s already late!

I’m almost awake ... give me a second, mom ... I replied, still half asleep.


No ... now! she yelled again, startling me so much I nearly fell out of bed. In a few seconds I was on my feet, already in a bad mood as I began the usual routine of brushing my teeth and washing my face. I hated being woken up by others, especially when they did so abruptly. It was like they were upsetting an extremely fragile balance. I got my last few things together and prepared myself psychologically for the eleven-hour flight, making sure not forget my sleeping pills and sedatives. I had never loved airplanes, with the air conditioning, the persistent engine noise, the all-too-silent other passengers, and naturally the idea of being kilometers above the ground was something difficult to come to terms with. Even when I knew there was an earthly paradise waiting for me upon arrival, I never felt at ease. I had probably boarded close to 400 airplanes, but this didn’t change things one bit: I simply didn’t like it, and I never would. After making our final preparations we left the house, stepping out into the cool, humid air. We loaded the suitcases into the car and set off toward Milan’s Malpensa Airport, with me still dozing. We would be flying Thai Airways, which in my opinion was one of the best airlines with the nicest cabin crews. Check-in went smoothly and we were on board in under an hour. The plane was spacious, its seats tinged red, pink and purple. Colors were really important for me because they had the power to influence emotions. Hospitals were decorated with green and light blue to help calm patients down, while billboards had bright colors like red to create excitement and encourage people to buy. The hues in the cabin made me feel secure and, for a moment, I wasn’t afraid of the trip. On our seats we found an orchid, the airline’s symbol, and just after takeoff the flight attendants began serving beverages. It’s going to be a long flight, but at least I have my trusty sleeping pills. I took one and within half an hour I fell asleep without even realizing it. Though I was less afraid than other times, I didn’t want to take the risk of there being turbulence and me bursting into tears uncontrollably. I much preferred my pills. The eleven hours went by quickly and we were already landing when I woke up, a bit groggy, but happy that I’d already arrived in a country that for me was synonymous with happiness. This time we landed in Phuket, a large and crowded city. The smell of Thai air was unmistakable: a blend of smog, flowers and food. On coming out of the airport the typically torrid Thai heat assailed my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. I plucked up my courage and walked toward a minivan parked on the opposite side of the street. I gave the driver the hotel address and jumped inside to relax in the air-conditioned coolness. For the first night we would be staying in a luxury hotel with our very own Jacuzzi. Normally we reserved the simplest accommodations we could find, but given the eleven- hour flight, we had decided to pamper ourselves a bit. After two hours crammed inside that little white van which gradually filled with travelers, we reached the hotel, located on top of a hill overlooking the sea. At first glance the staff seemed a bit listless, but they turned out to be helpful and quickly led us to our room. After making our way through some trees and up the stairs, we came to suite 22. The young man who had accompanied us opened the hand-carved wooden door and showed us the room. It was quite spacious with Chinese decorations on the wallpaper, the bed was large and looked comfortable, and the bathroom was finished with marble tiles and had an open shower. There was access from both the bathroom and bedroom to a large tiled veranda, with deck umbrellas and a stone Jacuzzi. After setting down our luggage, we decided to take a soak despite the fact that the weather wasn’t great. In that period Thailand was getting pummeled by monsoons and sunny days were a rarity, but with a temperature of 30° C and 80% humidity we could luxuriate in the warm water, hoping to shake off the sluggishness and fatigue from the flight. From the tub I began taking in our surroundings: the chirping of the blackbirds, the dark clouds heavy with rain, the rough sea with those typical greenish colors. I immediately felt as though I were in another dimension, and all those hours studying for my university exams and the nights spent contemplating my future suddenly seemed like a distant memory. Time had come to a standstill and allowed my true self, who I really was and what I loved doing, to emerge. I lit a cigarette and looked at my mother, who was coming off a hard year of work herself. She had always been one of the most beautiful women I knew, with her slim but well-proportioned build, those emerald eyes framed by dark eyebrows, a French nose, and her full, well-defined mouth. My friends told me I looked just like her, but if you looked closely, I took after my father quite a bit as well. Without being exceedingly thin, I had always had a harmonious and well-shaped physique. I had these full lips and a slightly elongated face, while my eyes were green or light blue-gray depending on the weather. Despite our obvious physical similarities, when it came to personality, my mother and I couldn’t have been more different. She viewed me as disorganized and impulsive, while I thought she’d always been excessively neat and rational.

What time is check-in tomorrow? my mother asked, putting an end to my reverie.

At ten, I replied hurriedly.

Do you already know how we’re getting to Koh Phangan?

Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll go down to the lobby later and figure everything out.

That’s fine, but Eden, just please don’t leave it all to the last minute.

You’re so irritating. I’m telling you I have everything under control, as always!

My mom loved giving orders and, more than anything, she loved to delegate. When we went on vacation together, she used language as an excuse to have me take care of everything because she said she simply couldn’t do it, which absolutely wasn’t true. Yet, despite the fact that she loved getting other people to do things, she wanted to control the situation, like a bird of prey monitoring its next kill, and she got annoyed if you were imprecise and didn’t take care of things ahead of time. I had never been very good about keeping deadlines or very scrupulous in general, but I’d always succeeded in everything I’d set my mind to doing, whether academics or sports. When my parents got separated eleven years ago, it was really hard on me. I was directed to the school psychologist, Michael, a middle-aged man with a beard and a white moustache. He really helped me, showing me how situations can be more or less painful depending on your perspective and the importance you give them. It’s not the end of the world, he always said in his squeaky voice. When a new situation presents itself, it stares you down and won’t relent until you confront it. It’s up to you to decide how to face it and what priority to give to it: you can choose to magnify it and have your life ruined by fears and anxieties, or get something positive out of it by taking it philosophically. I decided to face these situations positively, whether they were good or bad, and try to be a bit more easygoing. Human beings are naturally inclined to adapt, and I knew that after a few months or years I’d find a way to get something positive from the events in my life. So that’s what I did, which is how I became a girl who doesn’t overthink situations, who’s impulsive and sometimes even insensitive, and who embraces her collection of experiences and tries to look ahead, even when life isn’t fair.

When I got to the reception desk, I asked the girl, who looked lost and a bit sleepy, to book the trip to Koh Phangan for me. She made a couple of phone calls, conversing mechanically with that typically nasal Thai accent, then scribbled down some illegible characters on a piece of paper and hung up the phone, a satisfied look on her face.

Tomorrow wake up early in morning, you take bus, then ferry and then taxi, okay? Cost per person 350 Bath.

Ok … I replied, unsure whether I’d understood everything. I took out 700 Bath and set them on the counter, waiting for the girl to prepare the next day’s tickets for me. In less than two minutes all four tickets were placed before me.

Thanks very much, goodbye, I said hurriedly. When it came taking money, Thais sure had quick hands. In the big cities people had become greedy, hoping to squeeze as much money as possible out of rich tourists, while poverty and the hatred toward certain types of travelers who fueled the prostitution rackets on a daily basis certainly didn’t help.

After spending less than half an hour organizing our trip for the next day, I returned to the room.

It took me 15 minutes to book the trip.

So? What do you want, a medal?

No! But next time don’t stress me out over four stupid tickets, if you don’t mind!

I flopped down onto the bed and began flipping through a magazine I’d found on the plane.

Eden, do you feel like going to take a walk? my mother asked guiltily.

Mom ... we’re right in the middle of the most famous red-light district. What do you think?

I guess not ... but we could just find a little bar and have a drink.

No, no ... I’m not in the mood, but you go ahead!

Resigned, my mother lay down next to me. She got under the covers and pretended I wasn’t even there, intent on paging through a German newspaper. It began to rain, and the pattering of the drops against the windows made us both sleepy. Shortly after we both drifted off, soothed by the tropical drizzle that eased the tension between us and made us feel protected.

Our wake-up call was set for six in the morning, and my mother’s cellphone rang so loudly that I nearly fell out of bed. We got up feeling disoriented and even more tired than before due to the jetlag.

Good morning ... my mother said, yawning.

Good morning, Mom...

Make sure you don’t leave anything in the bathroom, and take both backpacks so we can bring them downstairs with the suitcases.

Yes, ma’am, right away ... just let me get dressed and I’ll go check everything …

I put on a summer dress and a sweatshirt to shield me from the air conditioning in the minivan. It was going to be a long trip and I didn’t want to get sick.

Mom, I’m ready, I checked the entire room. We can go!

Weighed down with luggage and so dazed we could barely walk straight, we headed for the restaurant to have breakfast. The dining area, equipped with a dark-colored wood terrace that overlooked the bay, was strangely empty. Against the colorful walls were four tables full of Thai and European food: hardboiled eggs, Thai noodles with pork, vegetables or chicken, juices, omelets, and plain and filled croissants. After choosing our table, we ordered two coffees and two plain croissants, since both of us felt quite nauseous. The sky was still cloudy, and a light rain further darkened the atmosphere. The only things cheering us up were the chirping of the birds and the helpfulness of the staff, who made us smile despite the weather.

You’re eating so little, Eden ... Strange!

For some reason I feel nauseous... it must be the jetlag, but I’m not hungry at all! And I’d appreciate if you’d spare me the commentary.

Fine ... Then just have some hot tea and forget about everything else.

I looked up toward the sky, trying to ignore this brief exchange. Both of us were on edge and it was no use fanning the flames of something that would only lead to an argument. I pretended not to notice her attitude – it was for the best. After finishing the little bit of food I managed to force down, I got inside the minivan with my mother in tow, preparing for the 10-hour trip to Koh Phangan. My nausea still hadn’t dissipated and I wondered if I’d be able to bear ten hours of air conditioning turned on full blast and a driver yelling incomprehensibly in Thai to his friends on the phone. For a moment I was tempted to take a sleeping pill, but my mother’s look of disapproval changed my mind.

You need to stay awake, Eden, I don’t want to spend 10 hours alone, she said with annoyance.

Okay, mom, this time I’ll stay up, but if I heave, it’ll be your fault, I replied.

Now don’t exaggerate, like usual ... stay up and if by chance you feel the need to vomit, I’ll tell the driver to pull over.

Quite embarrassing, I’d say ... it would be better to sleep!

She gave me a quizzical look, pursed her lips, and turned to look out the window. To avoid thinking about my nausea I did the same, taking in the surrounding landscape. I was immediately captured by the panorama that was slipping quickly by: tall mountains rich with vegetation, villages of small wood-and-bamboo bungalows, rivers bursting with brown water after the long rains, children with smooth black hair and almond-shaped eyes playing on the side of the road. Yet again, Thailand was surprising me and giving me endless reasons to smile. The first time I visited this magical country was four years ago with my mother. We had reserved a bungalow for two euros a day on a bay south of Koh Phangan. I still remember that on the first day, after setting down our suitcases, I had decided to take a shower and asked my mother to check if there were any strange insects or spiders behind the door or the sink. After a quick glance, she told me in a matter-of-fact tone to go ahead, so without even thinking I took off my clothes and turned on the water, happily singing to myself. After a few seconds, I felt something heavy on my leg. Thinking it was hair, I tried to brush it off. When it didn’t budge, I pushed harder, and that was when I realized that what I was feeling on my leg wasn’t hair at all, but a tarantula that had jumped onto me to save itself from the jet of water. When I realized I was holding a spider, I jumped out of the shower yelling and burst out of the bungalow, crying hysterically, but not before throwing the spider toward the wall. Still all soapy, I became aware that I was now outside the room, naked, and that the entire staff was staring at me. Their faces were bewildered and concerned at the same time.

What happened, miss? asked a Thai man around forty.

There was a spider, a tarantula, in the shower! I answered, still breathless and trembling.

Suddenly, the people who until a moment before had been looking at me with concern now burst into uncontrollable laughter, before returning to what they’d been doing. A bit shocked by their reaction, I begged the man to come up to the room and help me. I showed him the furry arachnid, which in the meantime had hidden behind our bed. The man found that little hairy bastard, which tried to scuttle away up and down the walls, killed it, and told me that I was likely to see many others over the course of my vacation. Despite my deep fear of spiders, I simply resigned myself to sealing the insect net hermetically around our bed each night.

This time we were returning to Koh Phangan, but up in the north, on a small cove that many considered wild, and was reachable only by sea or with an off-road vehicle by bumpy, unpaved roads. After a trip of roughly twelve hours we finally arrived in Chaloklum, the bay from which the longboats for our beach departed. Unfortunately they informed us that the sea was rough, and since it was already nine in the evening, we would have to wait until the next morning for a boat. Luckily, after tramping all over the place with our luggage, we found a hotel a few steps from the beach that, for €15 a night, offered a comfortable, brand-new wood bungalow. After leaving our suitcases in the room, our hunger finally caught up with us and we set off for the restaurant. It was outdoors and all in wood, from the tables to the chairs to the flooring. The menu was quite varied, with the typical Thai dishes: Pad Thai, Tom Yum, coconut soup, noodles with ginger, chives and shrimp. I ordered the noodles with vegetables, shrimp and lime and my mother chose a mango salad. As we waited for our food I looked around, and I was entranced by the fishing boats which in the distance looked like so many little green dots, while my ears were filled with the sounds of the sea and the chorus of crickets and frogs. I let the sense of peace in that place wash over me and realized how much my spirit needed these sounds and this nature, from the salt on my skin to the smell of wood and wet grass. As soon as our dinner arrived, I crossed my legs on the chair and slowly began savoring the taste of fish mixed with lime and the unmistakable sauce that distinguishes Thai cuisine. Neither of us said a word for the entire meal. The sense of peace and serenity had captured my mother as well, and she was excitedly observing everything around her, with the joy of a child unwrapping Christmas presents. After dinner we headed toward the bungalow, making sure not to step on the countless frogs dotting the road. By now it was eleven and even the few elderly people who’d been playing cards had now returned home, while the Thai women at the hotel were cleaning the kitchen after a long day of work. Sleep came easily that night: the sound of the rain and the croaking frogs created a tropical atmosphere and gave me a sense of belonging, evoking a safe refuge, a place where nature merges with your deepest self. The following morning we woke up at 8, excited to finally reach our destination. We went to the reception desk, where the manager told us that the sea was still too rough, but that the resort staff would come pick us up in one of their utility vehicles. Half an hour later a large white Jeep finally drove up. The driver, a heavyset, dark-skinned man, got out of the car and came toward us: For Bottle Beach 1?

Yes!

Good! Please get in.

When I sat down on those soft leather seats, I relaxed: the vacation was about to begin. Our bay was only a few kilometers away and the adrenaline running through my body confirmed my enthusiasm and happiness for that new adventure. The trip took longer than planned, roughly an hour. For the first half-hour the road was smooth and my gaze lost itself in wonder among the innumerable villages which, from the center of the island, stretched out toward the northernmost part. The little shops of Thai souvenirs made way for food kiosks and uncontaminated forest. The shops sold mostly t-shirts, shoes, bathing suits and towels with images of Buddha or various decorations. The shop owners seemed to be mostly women with their children in tow, wearing a sort of multicolored pajama or loose-fitting t-shirts displaying cartoon characters. The food kiosks, perpetually enshrouded in a fog of aromatic smoke you could smell at some distance, sold chicken skewers, pork, rice, noodles and soft drinks or water. After leaving the main road, we entered the thick jungle on a copper-colored, unpaved road which grew increasingly narrow and full of holes. Despite the bumpiness of the ride due to the hilly terrain and the ruts in the road, I was fascinated by the allure of the jungle: the trees intertwined in what seemed like a contest to surpass one another. The palms, incredibly tall and thin, alternated with hibiscus, mangos, bananas and gardenias. The leaves of the treetops created a dense canopy that limited access to sunlight, contributing to an idyllic and mysterious atmosphere. As I was attentively observing the landscape, I glimpsed an animal jumping from one branch to another.

Mom, look! A monkey! I yelled excitedly.

Really? Where?

Up there in the trees... look how it’s watching us!

Incredible! It’s like he’s jumping from branch to branch to keep up with the car!

This is the first time we’ve seen them in Thailand, isn’t it? Here they’re probably less disturbed by tourists.

Probably ... in the ‘Full Moon Party’ areas it’s too chaotic.

The monkey was medium-sized, with greyish-white fur and a very long tail. After a few seconds, probably frightened by the rumble of the jeep’s engine, it scampered off in another direction, leaving me amazed and intrigued and hoping to see more of them. For the rest of the car ride, tired of the constant bumps, I continued gazing at the landscape in which we were immersed, trying to pick out as many animals as possible: bright-colored butterflies, squirrels, and blackbirds were the most common in that dense jungle, but no further trace of monkeys. My search was interrupted by the driver who, accelerating to bypass a small stream, exclaimed:

One minute to Bottle Beach 1!

Thank heavens... I was about to throw up! I replied with a sigh of relief. The road, which had become something of a roller coaster, now began to flatten out and the jungle grew sparser, making way for a well-maintained garden and regularly-spaced palms a few meters apart. The vehicle came to a stop in front of what appeared to be the resort’s main building and, shortly after, a girl welcomed us politely and led us to the front desk.

Welcome to Bottle Beach 1. My name is Oi, and if you need anything at all, just ask. This is Oa, the reception manager.

I turned to look at Oa, a well-built woman with a confident look on her face, dressed in a loose, light-blue t-shirt and shorts. When she noticed us, she nodded quickly in greeting and went back to what she was doing. I turned back to Oi: Thank you very much ... We’re Eden and Dana.

The girl was about sixteen years old, with very light skin and long, silky hair. Under her loose t-shirt I couldn’t help noticing her pregnant belly, probably about six months along. We handed her our passports and waited for her to make the necessary photocopies. She gave everything back to us and said: One of my colleagues is coming now to take you to your room with an ocean view, A3.

Okay, I replied, then smiled at her and pointed at her stomach with a smile. Is it a boy or a girl?

I don’t know yet, I’ll find out when it’s born, she nodded with a smile, and I thought about how inconvenient a choice like that would be in my country, what with having to choose the baby’s clothes and the color of the bedroom. I said goodbye and we followed the boy who in the meantime had arrived to show us to our room. He took our bags and led us to our bungalow, built directly on the sand. The room was all in wood, from the floor to the walls. In the middle sat a double bed with a mosquito net attached to the ceiling. The bathroom, clean and spacious, was in all marble. Outside the bungalow was a small veranda with two chairs and a table. The view was breathtaking: the bay stretched out magnificently for nearly a kilometer. The sea was emerald, the sand incredibly white. Between the various bungalows rose countless palms that gave the place a wild, tropical touch. At the bay’s extremities the beach made way for steep mountains covered in dense jungle that extended from one side to the other, tracing its profile and making any form of invasive tourism nearly impossible. It was paradise, our paradise, and now we would get to enjoy it for ten days.

The vacation has officially begun ... now we can relax and not worry about anything, I said to my mother, after finally sitting down.

You said it ... this place is breathtaking ... great choice!

Wow ... A compliment! Anyway, I’m a little hungry, how about getting something to eat?

Right away, ma’am, let’s go! I’m hungry too.

My mom was calmer and more relaxed. She was wearing a bathing suit and a sarong, her blond hair falling softly on her shoulders. I liked seeing her happy, with the air of a little girl impatient to go out and play. We put our clothes away in the closet, took off our shoes, and set off barefoot toward the restaurant. The bungalows were all built on either sand or grass, making shoes completely unnecessary. I loved being barefoot: it gave me an amazing feeling of freedom and synergy with nature.

The restaurant was located just a few steps from our room and was only partly covered, with a cone-shaped roof built with wood beams and palm leaves that were now dry and yellowish. The floor and tables, in the same style, were untreated and spacious and had names carved into them, probably people who’d had the privilege of staying on this splendid bay. We were welcomed by a young man of about thirty wearing a blue t-shirt with the hotel logo on it, and those classic brown-and-beige-striped Thai fisherman’s pants. He brought us the menu and with a mischievous smile said: Welcome to Bottle Beach, lovely girls, here’s the menu for you.

I thanked him and began pouring over the dishes in search of something that was tasty but not too heavy. My mother opened the menu but, not knowing English, turned to me with an air of perplexity: What are these noodles? Oh, please just find me a salad like the one at the other hotel, I can’t understand a thing!

After translating half the menu for her and trying to be as polite as possible so as not to ruin the mood, we finally decided on a shrimp salad and coconut milk soup. Chuckling, the waiter took our order and staggered over to the counter to deliver it.

Is he drunk, or what? my mother asked, laughing hysterically.

He’s probably just high ... his eyes were really red, I laughed.

If they offer you any drugs, don’t take them!

Mom, I’ve never smoked in my life and I’m certainly not going to start now!

Good! I just wanted to make sure.

After observing the other waiters, I realized they were all quite young, around twenty