This country is starting to feel outrageously small. I thought it was home to 1/6th of the entire world.
Then how is it that I continually come across the same people and old friends?
Granted, most of us hop on trains and buses with the travel Bible in hand (Lonely Planet), and perhaps because of that we are making similar stops and taking similar routes, but the chances of repeated encounters still don't seem terribly high.
Like when I met a German man on a rocky bus ride from Udaipur to Jodhpur, then found him weeks later sitting next to me in one of McLeod Ganj's internet cafes.
Or sitting down for dinner in Jaipur, at a restaurant that made up in dosas what it lacked in promptness, next to a group of Dutch girls. Then, finding myself over a month later amongst new friends sipping Darjeeling tea over Darjeeling's hills at a table next to the same girls.
Or finding my Japanese friend, who I spent days and nights with in the mountains and deserts of Ladakh, only to hear her voice as I walked through the labyrinth that is Varanasi's streets where she sipped a lassi at one of Varanasi's famous lassi shops.
Or spending time with a lovely pair of Argentinian ladies on my first day of traveling the north, only to find them staying at the same hotel as me, in one of a million of Delhi's hotels, on my last day of traveling the North.
Or finding a familiar face from Dharamsala on the other end of the country in one of Cochin's restaurants, who then joined me for a morning of elephant bathing in Kodanad.
I sat at a Delhi chai stall on my last day in the north reflecting on the uncaniness of such run ins, only to have my train of thought interrupted by a Canadian friend that I haven't seen since I visited in Pune. Making me no longer upset about having to spend the night in Delhi, which I have before mentioned is not one of my favourite places, but happy for the coincidence.
And now as I have reached Munnar and spent almost an hour looking for a hotel with a vacant and affordable room, I found one that was very much under construction, but with decent rooms that sometimes have water.
For whatever reason, I decided to crack open the visitor's book in my room, which I never do, only to find it signed by all my Canadian friends who were living a few hours outside of Bombay.
One of my friends cleverly wrote his message in French saying that although the hotel manager was extremely kind, his kindness had perhaps extended too far to ladies who stayed there, and included a warning for single female travelers.
And when the hotel manager invited himself into my room, to sit on my bed, and repeatedly give me welcoming hugs (more than I would give to my own mother), I was thankful for the advice my friend managed to give from so far away.
Then how is it that I continually come across the same people and old friends?
Granted, most of us hop on trains and buses with the travel Bible in hand (Lonely Planet), and perhaps because of that we are making similar stops and taking similar routes, but the chances of repeated encounters still don't seem terribly high.
Like when I met a German man on a rocky bus ride from Udaipur to Jodhpur, then found him weeks later sitting next to me in one of McLeod Ganj's internet cafes.
Or sitting down for dinner in Jaipur, at a restaurant that made up in dosas what it lacked in promptness, next to a group of Dutch girls. Then, finding myself over a month later amongst new friends sipping Darjeeling tea over Darjeeling's hills at a table next to the same girls.
Or finding my Japanese friend, who I spent days and nights with in the mountains and deserts of Ladakh, only to hear her voice as I walked through the labyrinth that is Varanasi's streets where she sipped a lassi at one of Varanasi's famous lassi shops.
Or spending time with a lovely pair of Argentinian ladies on my first day of traveling the north, only to find them staying at the same hotel as me, in one of a million of Delhi's hotels, on my last day of traveling the North.
Or finding a familiar face from Dharamsala on the other end of the country in one of Cochin's restaurants, who then joined me for a morning of elephant bathing in Kodanad.
I sat at a Delhi chai stall on my last day in the north reflecting on the uncaniness of such run ins, only to have my train of thought interrupted by a Canadian friend that I haven't seen since I visited in Pune. Making me no longer upset about having to spend the night in Delhi, which I have before mentioned is not one of my favourite places, but happy for the coincidence.
And now as I have reached Munnar and spent almost an hour looking for a hotel with a vacant and affordable room, I found one that was very much under construction, but with decent rooms that sometimes have water.
For whatever reason, I decided to crack open the visitor's book in my room, which I never do, only to find it signed by all my Canadian friends who were living a few hours outside of Bombay.
One of my friends cleverly wrote his message in French saying that although the hotel manager was extremely kind, his kindness had perhaps extended too far to ladies who stayed there, and included a warning for single female travelers.
And when the hotel manager invited himself into my room, to sit on my bed, and repeatedly give me welcoming hugs (more than I would give to my own mother), I was thankful for the advice my friend managed to give from so far away.
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| Vitthal and his friend: Calcutta |
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| Calcutta |
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