A panel from a fancy toilet in Japan. See all the buttons, well, at the touch of a button, they clean, wipe, powder and perfume. Temperature, luke warm, just right!! Kyoto, Japan, 2009.
My travels are never free of adventures. Hardly ever, that is.
Incessant travel has made me ‘sort of over confident’. But this over-confidence is sort of time-saving mechanism.
‘
‘Do not worry, things will be ok, nothing will go wrong.’ Because otherwise the thoughts that run through our mind are, ‘will I be on time, have I left an important document or things I need for travel, especially if it is for work? I must cover enough sleep before I leave or may be I catch up on the plane.’
It has been a while since I have not done the most enjoyable thing I used to on planes. Watch movies--without interruption or falling asleep. These days, I am either reading something for work or am so tired that I fall asleep while watching movies.
In this last year, during my travel I have lost things that were very important for me and held sentimental value. Mainly due to negligence or because I am too tired to follow my intuition or remain vigilant, aware, attentive.
The following entry was written while I was on the plane, October, 2010. The flight was from Stockholm to Madrid, Spain. Where without any planning I had about 18 hr lay over. (Watch before you click ‘go’ or ‘buy’ on those ultra cheap tickets. There is often a catch! Sadly enough this ticket was not even cheap). Luckily I have a friend in madrid, who when I informed of the accidental lay over, commanded me to stay her house, or she would not speak to me. She is really a dear friend, so always a joy to see her.
Here, October 20, 2010.
So, already been an interesting day.
I woke up an hour late, having gone to bed past 2 am. My train was at 8:22 am. The cab driver must have come and left, because I heard nothing and 15 minutes after his arrival time I came out to find no one. I went inside to keep working on my packing since much needed to be done.
This is the time when you miss Fiji, where the cab drivers had your cell number. And if you took too long, they called you, informed you that they were waiting outside your house, ‘just when you are ready. …’ And then they would drive like crazy to ensure you reached your destination in time. Safety was not really high on the list. Punctuality, especially for a passenger, an entirely different ball game. :))
Presently, at here at 5 min to eight I started to panic. I looked for my always missing cell phone, I hardly use it. I realized I had a missed call and a message from L. Such a sweet heart, she would remember that I was leaving and send me a sweet message.
I called her, thanked her and asked to do me a favor. To call tingvalla, the cab company, on my behalf since I could not get through.. She did and got the same message like I did. That all the lines were busy. Then, she suggested to call another cab service. She did, and they were at my doorstep in a few minutes. I got into the cab, the driver was really nice. He spoke enough english for us to communicate without any issue. He helped me take my bags to the train station’s entrance and left. I rushed to ask a man walking toward the train, and he pointed at the train on the tracks. ‘Oh, yes, that is the one.” Phew bhagwanji!! (God) Thanks.
I have three hours on the train. Finally I can take a break. My ticket was ‘not a reserved seat’. So I headed to tram number 14, as directed by the ticket collector. Lucky me, I got two empty seats. ‘I can now sprawl, lie down on my backpack and take the so well needed nap.’
Then, as always, I noticed the dance of the morning sun. I have taken pictures of sunsets and sunrises in so many countries. The two celestial bodies that I never tire of watching are, the Sun and the Moon. The morning sun was now dancing on the horizon as the train gained momentum. The sun got milder as we approached Stockholm. It was not the distance but time of the day.‘ We were expecting dropping temperatures and some snow.
‘We are supposed to get snow today.‘ I thought ‘Me, I am off to Texas, with an accidental, unplanned 18 hr layover in Madrid. Thankfully I have a friend and I will see her today. Ah, what joy!!”
Oh wait, I remembered something. ‘I must make sure I have my passport and wallet’, the two things I always pack first. This time, I have been just too wound up, tired and have a list of things to do even after I return. The fact that I have not had the time to unpacked properly since I moved here is starting to show.
Oh then again, another thing, I reminded myself, at the airport ‘I still have to buy a ticket to get to the Arlanda express, the train that takes us from train station to the airport, in twenty minutes.
I asked a few people, was aided by several people, since I had to take two flights up the elevator and come down another way to reach the ticket station,
After buying the ticket and thinking everything is in order, I rushed to the platform where I had to catch the train. The train was about to leave. So I quickly rushed in. But as I was looking for a space to put my hand luggage, I made eye contact with a Swedish man, who with the nod of his head pointed toward the space for luggage. After placing my bag there, I went and sat next to him.
This man, who although Swedish, had been living in France for the last two decades started to chat. We talked about availability of things, and he told me that Norway ‘has good meat.’
Really?. I nodded, at the information. Always something to learn.
You like sea food?
No, am a vegetarian.
Oh, have you been to India?
I smiled. ‘Was raised there.’
‘Ah, they have the best vegetarian food.’
‘Yes, if the world knew that cuisine, I think more people will eat vegetarian.’
‘Yes,’ I agree.
He told me all about the commonwealth games that he had been watching on BBC.
We talked a bit about Scandinavia. I heard that Denmark can boast the happiest people in the world, on BBC.
‘Yes, they are the most relaxed.’ confirmed the Swedish Man.
I thought of R. We met him in Vietnam last year.
Beautiful boy. He and J, from Holland, played a game of cards, while me and M waited for our meal. I found R’s way of talking very intriguing.
Ultra relaxed, is the only way I could explain it. Slower than the Tennessee accent!!
He had to catch a train before ours, so after he took our leave, I asked J, hey, what’s wrong with him?
I thought he was a little low on IQ. Or may be on drugs?
‘No, he’s a Dane, they are like that’. J had explained.
Well, that came to mind as I shared ‘the news of Danish being the happiest.
But when I jokingly shared that with an american colleague, who has lived in scandinavia for the last 15 years. ... I got a response that made me look differently on it.
‘That’s coz they are on dope.’ The guy who grew up in California explained.
And this man, sitting next to me in the train confirmed the ‘Happy Status of Danes along with their liking for intoxicants and mind altering substances’. ‘They (Danes) drink a lot, eat very well, and yes, smoke dope.’
And then very assertively he added, ‘But do not do business with them.’
‘Really, why?’
‘Their word counts less than the Swedish word.’
I have heard that as well, since I have been here. But I think these perceptions we have of people are relative, a little bit of fact mixed with fantasy and fiction.
We chatted a bit. When we got off, he helped me with the bags, and showed me to the check in counter.
Finally after talking and sharing a few things, we parted.
From here on, we must talk, as if it it is happening now, to get the gist of how it must feel.
At the airport, I am hungry. Sweden is very expensive and there are few vegetarian things to eat. I finally get something to eat. I am reading two journal articles, funnily enough my concentration is so much more heightened when I am traveling.
Finally I sit down and start watching a few Penn state lectures that I downloaded online.
And it hits me, wait, I have not seen my scarf in a while. I have had this one for a long long time. It is not special. You could even buy it at a dollar store. Not expensive. At the time I might bought it in sale for less than 10USD. Regular plaid. Lilac and blue.
But I have had that for so long that it seems like an appendage. So I start looking for it frantically. Open my backpack, my handbag. Nothing.
Rush back to the cafe. They have not seen anything.
I pick up a toothpick. And start bitting on it nervously.
Then I rush back to the bathroom. I might have dropped It there.
I try to open one stall but it is locked. I leave the bathroom, and in a few seconds come back in, because I want to make sure I look for my scarf before another person comes in.
The door clicks open, a handsome man comes out.
I have used unisex bathrooms here so it might be one of them.
He looks at me and then says, ‘this is the mens.’
How to make embarrassment disappear? Any books on that?
I think you divert the issue really.
I cant think of anything to do, and know for sure that this is an inappropriate place to tell him that he is a very attractive man. Which he is. Tall, dark haried, Keanu reeves type. You don’t see those everyday. And its just my luck that I happened to be in the right place and the right time!! Right place!!
I avoid any eye contact. So that neither embarrassment nor desire is revealed.
‘No, it isn’t.’
‘Yes it is’!, he insists.
I still make no eye contact. ‘My fault, my fault’ I mumble and run out.
Then I go into another toilet, and find my scarf hanging on a hook. Ah. Great!
Back to the waiting area, I open my book to read more.
When I hear my name in an announcement.
What have I done now?
I turn to the lady sitting behind me,
Do you understand Swedish?
‘Ao’
Ok, what did they say, I heard my name.
I did not pay attention.
Great, that is how much interest my name evokes.
Finally I see the man who checked my bags in at the counter. I rush up to ask him. And he places my black shoulder purse on the counter.
I throw my head back in frustration, ‘Ah, where did I leave that now?’
Huh?
Where--- did-- I ----leave ---it? I was talking too fast.
What did you have in there?
‘Nothing!’
‘Nothing? Ok, then.’
As an after thought I add, ‘Just business cards, and a ticket from porto to santiago de compestello’, which is how they found me. ‘So where did you find it?’
‘They found this is in the mens room.’ he enunciates.
He tries to make an eye contact.
I nod, ‘ah, sure,’ very assuredly, and chew the toothpick in my mouth and let it dangle casually, hoping I am successful in giving the Clint-Bogi look, implying, ‘Sure, that is exactly where I left it.”
I walk away, hoping that when the man sees me evaporate into nothingness, a silvery cloud of embarrassment, he writes me off as an alien.
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