For a moment I did not know where I was. It was partly the Scandinavian sun, and the fact that I had changed my room just this morning, that I found myself in a groggy, confused state as I awoke from a short, delirious nap. I gradually started regaining consciousness of my surroundings. I was back in the hostel after another long day walking the streets of Copenhagen. The sun and the beer had made me sleep instantaneously. I still had my shoes on. And there was a gorgeous woman bent inches away from me, whistling to herself as she rummaged through her rucksack. “Hi there” I said, pretending to be wide awake. I have seen people get startled, but only when I am totally awake. This performance, witnessed in my state of half sleep, was truly phenomenal. She jumped out of her skin by a mile! Apparently I am a silent sleeper. (Thank God! I hate snorers.) She had no clue that I was there in the room. At least that is what she seemed to be explaining in between huge gasps for air. To complicate matters she had the most amazing French accent. If you have watched ‘A Fish Called Wanda’, where Jamie Lee Curtis has this foreign language fetish, you will realise what afflicts me. Finally, I was waking up. At least a part of me!
Li’ll Blackbird, as I shall call her, based on her email id, became my first impromptu travel companion. She had just landed in the Danish capital on her annual ten day visit to a chosen place. I was halfway through my three day stopover there. We decided to do my last day in Copenhagen together. I travel without a camera (sigh! No longer – I have a phone that has one now. :-( ) She travelled with a camera that used photographic film. Couldn’t get more archaic than that! We had a great time. We were together till I nearly missed my bus. She told me I was not her types; I had not even hit on her. Just when we were nearing the time to part – that time of the day/night when time seems to drag/race depending on your relationship – I learnt about a brewpub that had the Westvleteren beer. I had been a beer tourist for the second half of my year in Europe – and for me it was like getting a clue to the Holy Grail. I dropped my mug of beer, paid up, and dragged her across the city centre to reach the place. They had it. I bought it. She saw my passion and refused my offer to share it with her, but she agreed to have the first sip. “It’s like songbirds singing in your mouth,” she exclaimed as soon as she had sipped it. I enjoyed the best beer in the world, totally satisfied that I had the best way to describe it later – thanks to my fabulous travel companion.
That’s how I nearly missed my bus!
Driving through some awesome landscape in Sri Lanka can be an excruciating experience if you have the wrong travel companion. I started realising this when I did the same today with the most militantly mediocre person I have been with in the last few years. To negate my extremely violent thoughts, I started thinking of the amazing companionship that I have shared during the course of my travels. The preceding piece was conceived when I was actively filtering out the incessant babble of my vehiclemate. I am glad I could do it – the countryside looked so much more beautiful.
No comments:
Post a Comment