Read Part 5 HERE
I had dug myself into a hole and there was no getting out.
I’ve been singing nothing but praises about the Karen in this series of articles, but they are still human and as such, far from perfect. The imperfection of that particular night: their rice wine.
I felt like I was drinking some kind of alcoholic vomit out of a small, plastic blue cup. It sounds harsh, but that isn’t meant to be an exaggeration, it’s literally the closest thing I’ve tasted to vomit without actually throwing up.