When my university announced an excursion, a day in the town of rum aka Flensburg, I imagined a noisy factory with soiled, scandalous looking, reeking men working underground. The brewery actually had minimal manual labor with tanks the size of Eiffel tower and a data centre to monitor the whole process.
I look out of my window in the distance, I see the wind gently blowing on the trees and the leaves delicately detaching themselves and swaying to the tunes of the wind till they touch the ground.
However, my first impression of Kiel lasted only one night. I went out the next day, I couldn’t believe that there were no smokers on the streets, and then it dawned on me that there were no people on the streets. I could literally count the number of people walking on the streets on the fingers of one hand, perhaps two but not more for sure.
Walking through the ubiquitous Rosa Rugosa shrubs aka Sylt Rose to reach the Wadden Sea boarded by Sea Grass buried in Sand Dunes was nothing short of divine.
Monaco was no ordinary country. I haven’t seen a country so hoity-toity in my life. This country oozes with opulence and good-looks. The women here look like they were dropped directly from some place above heaven. And the men look exactly like the kind of men these women would date. The men here wouldn’t drive anything less than a Lamborghini or Bugatti. And the women wouldn’t wear anything-oh no, not what you are imagining, but-less than 6inch stilettoes. When I discovered, how much these cars could set me back, I felt Porsche and Mercedes were dirt-cheap.
Every time I returned safely from a trip, my family’s belief in God becomes firmer.
One time when I got an aisle seat on the flight from Kathmandu to Kolkata, I fell all over the window seat guy next to me and clicked pics like there was no tomorrow. After a while, irritated, he turned to me and asked if it was my first flight, in the hope of putting me off. I giggled and continued. But I did tell him off in my mind, “dude, it’s the Himalayas, you cannot not click no matter how many times you fly.”
A man with a “PRAM,” I told myself, will not have time or energy to kidnap me or murder me to sell my body parts. And rape, that’ll definitely be the last thing on his mind after a baby. I ran up to him; quickly introduced myself and without wasting much time that was left of my weekend I poured my heart out.”