I left India feeling lighter. Refreshed. New. I knew I was a cliché, but that’s the thing– I didn’t care. I felt like I had shed the load of caring about what others think. Thankfully, this was discarded along with my need for make-up, new clothes, and all material goods. In my previous life, I always swung on the fence between hippiedom and yuppiedom. It seemed dreamy to have a nice house and comfortable car, but in India I finally confirmed that it feels nicer to not have. To me, being able to travel with one pair of pants beats worrying about a mortgage.
Phew. Glad I realized that. No more brand names. No more high heels. Done.
Then British Airways lost my backpack.
“What’s that you say? You say the airline usually reimburses about one-hundred Euros per day?”
Immediately I became one of those shoppers with glittery packages. The moment I bought the first tight-fitting jeans, my seal was broken. Like an addict looking for a spoon, I was on a rampage. I happened to be in Spain during their semi-annual countrywide blowout sale, and my hands couldn’t flip through the discount racks fast enough. I had to have that dress. And those shoes. And pajamas. And of course a purse. And look at that– a whole store filled with stuff I wanted to buy in India but didn’t. I fluttered through dressing rooms and beeped through register transactions.
When my backpack finally arrived three days later, I am ashamed to say that nothing I bought fit into it. I then had to buy a suitcase to carry all my new purchases.
I hung my head in shame.
But then I put on my new heels!
Just this once. I swear. I need to feel feminine for a short time– then back to stinky shirts and baggy pants. I hadn’t realized how grimy I’d felt over the last eight months. It’s nice to remove leg hair, wear jewelry, and put on deodorant once in a while. I’d forgotten. Our minds and bodies have the ability to get used to anything. What you thought was crazy before just becomes your life, and there you have it. Strange. I bet I could have acclimated to sleeping on a bed of cockroaches if I’d really wanted. Maybe next I will choose to get used to… being unemployed and living with my mother until someone invites me on another 9-month holiday.