Thursday, June 30, 2011

Backpacks and Puris

I see myself linking the GMP a lot, and here’s another piece that resonated with me. I know I have the I-need-to-do-something-exciting-or-I-will-go-crazy syndrome, and it can be a huge drain on finances, productivity and the patience of those around me.

But I digress. I meant to write about the beauty of travelling. Apart from the usual getting to meet new people, eating strange food, seeing the sights jamboree; there is the absolutely liberating realisation that all you really need to negotiate the big bad world can be stuffed into one 20 litre backpack.

I mean, yeah, the clothes might surface with a bit of yesterday’s hurriedly eaten chocolate croissant on them, but meh.

Anyhow, you start to get far less finicky about trivialities like bathing everyday and having every hair on your head pinned neatly down. You don’t have to dress to impress anyone, you’re a strange person from a strange land who will attract strange looks no matter what you wear- so you might as well wear banana print boxers and kaftans with skulls hanging off of them.

You can make a fool of yourself and get away with it; as long as you’re not an obnoxious, disrespecting fool, you can get away with quite a bit. Everything is new and exciting, and even better- when you get back, you suddenly start to appreciate the quirks of your own people. Take for instance the strange way in which Indians will refuse a tenth helping of puris while simultaneously stuffing one in their mouths.

Finally, you realise that though the foreign is shiny and we need to learn so very much from them, as clichéd as it sounds, there’s nothing quite like home.

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