Did I ever mention about the kind of journeys I hate? Let me do so now. This is the exact kind: You know the date, time, venue and itinerary of the days you spend there long before the journey begins and as the days turn into weeks and then to months the excitement (well, for me at least) exists no more!! I am pretty much of an allocentric traveller in that sense though I know it doesn’t apply to pre-travel conditions. I mean I like it unplanned, unscheduled and somewhat unprepared too! Like a call at seven in the evening saying “Want to hit the road tomorrow morning at 6?” and then there I am on the hoot of the bus next morning enjoying the view in Dolalghat heading somewhere near Tatopani. Well, that’s what I called Traveling! No worries about when the journey will begin and no time to think about how much I hate Packing either. When the time is short, you have to do it quick. There’s no time to complain “God! How I hate packing.” and lay on the bed imagining the clothes to fold themselves and get in the backpack either!
Archive for July, 2007
The Economist (forgot the edition)has dedicated a good part of it to blogs. A guy has an interesting thing to say about blogs. The words to follow, though not the exact quote ,suggests that blogging is a spontaneous act. If edited and re-edited it no longer becomes a blog, it’s just another form of conventional writing. I liked what the fellow said. Concluded, blogging is raw writing. So inspired by the guy I am writing just for the heck of it. Raw and unedited version of anything and everything on my mind. The only reason being: can’t sleep. Its 10:39 to be exact. I can’t stay beyond 9.Maybe it’s the change of room. The final shift was finally made. Won’t be going anywhere above this storey now. Ceiling of movement, I guess. Looks pretty neat (everything here other than me), not a speck of dirt in sight, spacious and bright..hmm a pat on my back for that. Feels good too, Baastu milejasto cha!!
He looked at me twice; my specs sure got him confused. Not what I wanted but I did the same as I couldn’t recognize him without his cap either. We don’t know one another, we have no reason to. I know him by face; the driver calls him “Chotu” as I have heard many a times. I am just a frequent traveler in their bus. His concern is I pay the fare, mine is to reach my destination. Yet we wasted our trying to figure out one another’s appearance. That’s life, most times, utter waste of time, indulgence in the meaningless, sometimes its people other times mundane acts. Like what I had just done (created a profile in some social networking site) and got on the bus.