On Friday, March 28, 2025, a 7.7 magnitude earthquake hit Myanmar near Mandalay at 12:50 p.m. local time, sending shockwaves to Bangkok and beyond. People who felt it—hundreds of miles apart—told the BBC their stories of a normal day turned upside down.
Kevin Riley, a tourist from Essex, UK, was having lunch in Chiang Mai, Thailand, about 300 miles from the quake’s center. “I felt things moving,” he said. “I thought they were shifting tables around.” Then he looked up. “Lights were swinging, things were shaking,” he told the BBC. It lasted two and a half minutes, he guessed, with little shakes coming just when he thought it was over. Back at his hotel, the pool was a mess—chairs tossed around, bits of the wall chipped off. “We’re far from Myanmar, but it still hit us,” he said, stunned by the power.
Pov: the situation on top of the tallest building near the swimming pool during the earthquake in Myanmar and Thailand
Gempa Myanmar dan Thailand yang berkekuatan 7,7 magnitudo dari batas gedungpic.twitter.com/Es9YuEUXZB
In Bangkok, 600 miles from the epicenter, Mick O’Shea, an Australian filmmaker, was at a café when it struck. “At first, I thought, ‘Am I dizzy?’” he said. “Everything swayed slow, not shaky.” Then he knew. “I saw people’s faces, and I thought, ‘Earthquake.’” Outside, he watched folks pour out of a hospital nearby. “Thousands of fist-sized rocks fell off buildings,” he said. A car parked close got smashed by one. “If that hit you from 20 stories up, you’re dead,” he told the BBC, his voice tight. He’d never felt anything like it in Bangkok.
In Shan State, Myanmar, a massive boulder smashed a parked car after a powerful earthquake sent rocks tumbling down a hillside. The US Geological Survey reported the 7.7-magnitude quake hit at a shallow depth of 10 kilometers, with its epicenter about 50 kilometers east of Monywa… pic.twitter.com/vR6iCjMi5J
Soe Lwin was in Yangon, Myanmar’s big city, 600 kilometers south of the quake. He felt it too. “It went on a long time,” he said to the BBC. He was downtown, where old buildings line the streets. “I didn’t see much damage, just little cracks,” he said, but he’s worried bigger shakes might come. “People here are scared of what’s next,” he added. Yangon got off light compared to Mandalay, where a rescuer said the city’s “a complete mess” with fallen buildings and screaming sirens.
Back in Bangkok, Bui Thu, a BBC reporter, was cooking at home when the floor moved. “I got so nervous,” she said on the World Service. “I didn’t know what it was.” She saw water splash out of rooftop pools, cracks split her apartment walls, and heard people yell outside. “It’s been years since Bangkok had a quake this strong,” she said. When an aftershock hit—part of a 6.4 magnitude follow-up—she ran to the street with everyone else. “We were just trying to figure it out,” she said. Buildings here aren’t made for this, she warned, and the damage could be big.
Amy Clayton, a 26-year-old teacher in Bangkok, was at school when it happened. “I felt dizzy, like I’d pass out,” she told the BBC. She was in the hallway, talking to a coworker, when they said, “Can you feel that?” Then fire alarms blared, and the principal shouted to get out. Kids cried—some had panic attacks—as they rushed outside. “We do drills, but never for quakes,” she said. Later, at her 17th-floor condo, she saw stairs chipped and broken. “It was so fast,” she said, still shaken.
From Chiang Mai to Yangon, it was the same: a quiet moment, then chaos. The quake killed at least 144 in Myanmar and seven in Bangkok, where a tower fell. But for these people, it’s the sudden jolt—the lights swinging, the rocks falling, the screams—that sticks. One second they were living their day. The next, they were running.