Don’t worry no sound clip attached to play in the background and burrow its way down into your skull and set up camp.
My first night in India. I have decided to call it safe and plop myself down at one of the eight or so tables at Churchill’s Cafe in Mumbai. It’s definitely one of those ex-pat hang outs, listed in the LP, and well, with a name like “Churchill’s” you can’t expect much less. The two fellas at the next table order the Tandori Chicken Sandwich witha coke dancing on the line of Indian and western food. Without much thought I order the same barely looking up from my menu. A minute later after stopping my giggling at the picture of Winston Churchill leaning back in an easy chair on the cover of my menu I take a second look at the travelers next to me sporting British accents. Thinking to myself I kind of give that half look that you give someone you think you know but you don’t want to let notice you until you can recall their name. They are playing the same game and eventually we break down and run the list cities and hostels for the last few months until we finally come up with 33.28 degrees south and 70.45 degrees west. For those at home, that the coordinates for Santiago Chile, a long way from here.
We recount the tail of our meeting in Santiago a long six weeks ago and our oogling one of the other travelers photos from his year and a half at an Antarctic base. We scarf down our tandori chicken, telling tales of the months passed since our last meeting, and marvel in the fact that the Lonely Planet has ceased to be an accurate name.