I wake up and it becomes instantly apparent; still in India. I know this because I am lying on a bed that feels like a wooden plank punching me in the kidneys, resting on a pillow with about as much yield as day old naan bread. This is like camping in a hotel room, I would be better off on the floor with only a yoga mat for support.
If there was one thing that could slowly drive me crazy, eventually make me snap and send me packing on the next flight home it would be these long, sleepless nights. I am already tossing and turning thank you to the evil anti-Malaria medication, pity I cannot roll over without procuring an all but enviable collection of bruises.
Everything else I can handle. We have been mobbed, pickpocketed, molested. We've had Delhi belly, gotten on a bus we're not sure is heading in the right direction after paying money to a man who doesn't speak English, been reduced to drinking tap water. All fine and dandy, child's play. It's what you sign up for when you visit India. But this?? I could wrestle with my backpack right now, break into a hotel with wifi, book an airline ticket...
And then I remind myself that this is adventure, and a good night's sleep was never in the fine print.
No comments:
Post a Comment