A 12 hour bus ride. A/C, roomy and not so bad. Except for the dripping. Makes one wonder how many different ways there are to be slightly uncomfortable:
Being stared at, sweat everywhere, all the time; dripping AC on the bus; paying to pee; begging children; being a stranger in a strange land; having to pee on a bumpy road for 2 hours with no stop in sight; sweating in the shower; fiting four to a seat; not knowing; not having duct tape; smelling the sulfur of Delhi; later tasting salt that tastes like the smell of Delhi and not being able to eat eggs again; being constantly afraid of getting scammed, stolen, touted; horns on the road at night; fear of travelling alone; worry of bloodclots on 15 hour plane rides; malaria; Delhi Belly; dehydration; discomfort of having money, wealth and opportunity and not knowing how to use it wisely.
But, underneath it all, a happiness. What kind of happy am I? A curious happy, content but not complacent.
Because, as long as that list is, it is beans compared to what it could be.
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