Every Picture Tells a Story

Aug 27, 2007

From Monday to Friday I'm not in India.

There are borders and rules which delimit who can enter and exit, what happens, and how one can behave between the "walls" of this school.

Saturday morning arrives, from my windows still lacking curtains filter in the two minutes of sun that are possible during this season.

I see the greenest green there is and a monkey leaping from branch to branch, and hear some bizarre species of bird twittering.

Modest clothing, comfortable shoes, and camera in hand: it's time to go to the bazaar!

All of a sudden, I remember that I'm in India.

When I see a scooter pass carrying three pepole without helmets; when from the fog a cow appears that wanders tranquilly about the streets; when I smell the scent of spices in the air.

We are free and curious, for a whole day no one knows anything about us, while we try to learn everything about India!

A whole-leg waxing for 150 rupees, a magnificent meal for less than 300, and so on (42 rupees = about 1 American dollar).

"After an experience like this, don't you think you'll travel for the rest of your life?"

"We'll always travel together!" - "You'll be a journalist and I'll be a National Geographic photographer." "Yes, OMG, YES!"

Siii viaggiaaareee... [A song by Lucio Battisti that translates as "Yes, to travel".]

FOOD wonderful FOOD

Go ask Amanda

Typical Indian student.

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