Confessions of a Travel Bag- European Ecstasy

It's almost been three weeks since I've been living out of my suitcase. When I finally took those last few steps to my burrow last night, I was tired and relieved. I've always loved traveling. Flying gives me 'the thrills' for as long as I can remember. So when it all began earlier this month, I was ecstatic.

Statistics reveal that 2 out of every 5 Londoners is an Asian. I'd take the privilege of modifying the data. 2 out of ever 5 Londoners belongs, even remotely so, to the Indian Subcontinent. Be it the Deli store owner, the Restaurateur or even the trafficwala, you cannot not feel at home in this Metropolis. Unlike New York where the first 'stench' that hits you is that of coffee and Eau de Cologne, London entices the senses with the smell of moist clay, fantastic mall-cities and Fish n' Chips! Harrods is a world in itself, closely followed by the uptight Selfridges. For the poorer minions like yours truly, Sainsbury and Marks and Spencer fit the bill just alright. So there was the triumvirate of Oxford, Regent and New Bond street where a swarm of human bodies were hustling-bustling to get the best 'deals', and then there was the Hyde Park corner where anyone could start their own rant on absolutely anything of no importance. London feels like home, and I know I am going to return one fine day!

Copenhagen, a ninety minutes flight, was a totally different world. The sun never sets in the Viking-land. So when I went for a stroll to the city centre near midnight, It was a pleasant evening walk in Lodi Gardens during late January evenings. The city has a network of canals, and pubs floating on those canals. The food was nothing to boast about, but something unique to the Danish junta is their passion for cycling. I chanced upon a 'suited-booted' gentlemen on a bicycle one day, and as it turned out, he was heading retail operations of Danske bank, the national bank of Denmark. And music! There were singers, pianists, street dancers, African tribal on the streets, in the city centre and in the alleys, all of them adding a new colour to the culturally vibrant fabric of the city. Oh ya! Danish Pastries and Cheese!

Wrapping up my belongings on the twenty-sixth floor of the hotel on a cloudy morning in Europe, I did not want to leave. There was a congenial nip in the air and I could not tear my eyes of the well mowed fields! The wind farms were teasing me to stay and the smoothly flowing rivulets begged me to reconsider my journey back home.

On the flight back to Delhi, I slept for a very short while. And when I did, all I could dream of was the multitude of faces that I had encountered in such a short span and how each, in it's own unique way, was similar to one another.