I have had this annoying feeling of distress around travelling for a while now. I love my travels, I love holidays but in general, there is a sense of unease surrounding it for a while now.
A good friend had once told me he hates travel. He hates the journey. He loves it once he gets to the place he is intending to reach but the journey itself, he says, is most tiresome. I can see that bit - travelling in India is not easy. You can paint it in quaint colours of poverty, filth, landscapes that are very pretty until you magnify your vision and see plastic fluttering from treetops, dangerously filthy public sanitation facilities or worse, none at all.
But it turns out, my problem does not even centre around the journey. Apparently, that can be handled too. What I hate is the build up. The packing. The ensuring of a pantry that's been emptied out. The locking, that worrying about "who will water my two tiny plants". That whole countdown is beyond annoying. It has often made me seriously consider calling off a travel plan altogether.
And god forbid if it's a travel destination I am not looking forward to or if I am travelling to see people I am not comfortable with, all hell breaks loose inside my head.
I am in that situation right now. And it's not like I am standing on a bed of hot coals. Here I am, sitting on the edge of a strange bed hoping for some food in a place where breakfasts are not the norm.
I am so hungry right now, I don't even know how to end this post. And I miss my clean bathroom & my perfect mattress. And I miss my larder & it's stash of til laddoos :(