With my second nasty Nescafe interpretation of the morning cooling before me, limply drying wet hair, Jack Johnson doing his thing pertaining to banana pancakes, and a stark view of a sand hued apartment block directly opposite me, out through the sliding balcony doors, I thus begin my nth blog.
This installment of the Gringo Educatrix's Travels in the World finds she in the desert- or at least in the Dubai version of the desert, which exists mainly in parking lots around shopping malls, in vacant lots half built with something big, shiny and new, and in sifting-sands mantle decorations emblazoned with pictures with camels. For the past days I have been bombarded with atmospheric deja vu- this whole winter/desert/white skies/bright air thing is ringing plenty of bells that I just can't place. And it smells like hay. There is no hay in the Emirates so maybe it's just another neurological quirk, like burnt toast and grand mal seizures.
We are setting out for Mumbai come thursday night, in my grand plan to visit all places ending in bai/bay before I hit middle age. A complete list of such suffixed environs would be appreciated. Surabaya doesn't count.
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