Orange Delhi night

I thought arriving would be more of a relief. Instead, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m wide awake and alone in a shabby dorm (which is either overpriced, or the exchange rate has changed dramatically since 2014, or the rest of the place really is that great to make up for it).

But! I am in India, once more, and unexpected memories and forgotten knowledge populate my mind. Like when I spontaneously want to say “sorry, I don’t have money” or “just a second” and catch myself in surprise because the words are suddenly there in Hindi.

Chatting to my taxi driver, back into the openness and confidence I used to feel. It is good to remember that there is a place where singing out loud is not all that strange, and a bit bewildering to receive all the tourist-reserved attention again. Most of all, however, this time I was less overwhelmed just by the country, and able to notice smaller things. The orange-patterned floor in the airport, the dusty sweet-ish smell that is very hard to describe, but immediately familiar. The orange-coloured night, in which the smog diffuses the light emanating from the lamp posts, the red street lights everyone ignores, magnificent temples in the most ordinary corners, oh, Delhi.

So, yes, I am full of wonder to be passing through this part of the world again, which for me feels like passing through a certain phase of my life again. Well, for now.

And I think I have decided on the theme I want to adopt for the coming days or weeks. It happened on the plane, when it suddenly clicked that I would land and be back, truly. I felt this joy, like vibrating with goodwill for all sentient beings, only better. Because there was this certainty that, at the core, there was nothing to worry about, as if anxiety wasn’t even possible, as if everything was just …good. It’s like having lost your compass and not noticing until you get it back. Which made it utterly obvious that the theme of, well, now will be to follow whatever this sense of direction indicates, just do what feels like the right thing to do, in the safety of a few weeks in which no decision will really matter anyway, and maybe learn to take some of this home. But because I’m starting to overthink stuff again, this is the right time to sleep, to then meet the wonder of the new day with a waking eye.

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Beautiful Bologna.

Lina and me started off profiting from the cheap Italian trains again (after, of course, having another ice-cream in Jesi for breakfast) and arrived in Bologna in the afternoon. As those things go, it was evening by the time we had visited the city and felt like we could move on, and, you might guess, we realised that it was getting kind of too late* to hitch out. Since it was our last evening in Italy, we felt like we should treat ourselves to something, and, more importantly, finally try that street music thing. Bologna is fantastic in terms of acoustic, since all the sound bounces off the arcades you find everywhere in the city centre. We had fun, and some other people seemed to enjoy it, too, some even put some coins in our orange hat.

After a short while, we realised that we might want to find a place to sleep (before one of the single men about could offer to, ugh, host us), but that was no trouble, since we had money and internet and felt like filthy rich kids. We went to a hostel and got the offer of taking a private two-bed room for only 2 Euros more than what we’d pay for two dorm beds. We opened our wallets wide and pulled out the 50€ he was asking for – we had just about enough. Then, he asked for just one Euro more, taxes. We looked at the heap of coins in front of us, and at our empty purses. After a moment, Lina opened her bag and fumbled around until she produced a certain hat still containing the circa 4€ we’d collected before. Hah!

We felt less rich, but daring (since we knew we wouldn’t take out any more money before reaching home). Moreover, we took a thorough shower and stained the brilliant white towels with our dirty feet.

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*Okay, it’s never too late for anything. But standing on a road for the whole night is decidedly less fun than sleeping.