I feel misplaced and awkward sitting here sipping a perfectly frothed café con leche, wearing a pair of jeans, and watching passersby loaded with Coach bags and packages from glittery department stores. It feels like just yesterday I was peeing into a hole, caught in a monsoon with my backpack on, and bribing rickshaw drivers to take me to the airport while trucks splashed me with mud and mean Hindi expressions. Oh, wait… that was yesterday.
Just a few stamps in my passport and divided trays of food and here I am in clean, expensive Madrid where nobody sleeps on the train station floor and showing shoulders isn’t considered sin. It’s like I’ve traveled through space; how can such different worlds exist on one planet? How do so many people from either world not know what it’s like to be in the other? How long will it take before sitting here sipping a coffee amidst shoppers and sangria feels normal? Do I even want it to feel normal?
A bus stop in India where I jumped out, peed in a hole and bought a pair of samosas. 
A metro stop in Madrid. What is this place? Where’s the garbage? And the goats?