I don’t think I’m alone when I say that encountering vermillion/crimson-robed monks during travels to Southeast Asia is always a pleasant experience.

There is just something calming about seeing a group of barefoot monks walking idly by. When my sister and I combed our way through chaotic Myanmar last March, coming across these holy men were just about the only thing that would soothe our frayed nerves. We’d be walking along a marketplace in Kyaiktiyo, weary from spending five gruelling hours on a rickety bus and the crazy truck ride that came immediately after, and then we’d spy a group of monks and our spirits would rise.

This is what monks really do up in the mountains:

More monky business around the city:

And I’m not going to lie, but in Yangon’s holiest shrine, the Shwedagon Pagoda, they were a delight to photograph. :D

Especially at sunset, when they made their way around the Shwedagon’s main stupa.

Saw them? Here they are up close:

Isn’t that just the most delightful thing? :D

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Photos are by me and my mini me: