I was looking through my old posts and found this one written way back in April 6th, 2006. We lived in Bombay then, in a lovely third floor apartment surrounded by gulmohar trees and lots of crows and pigeons that always wanted to make their nests on my windowsills.
Here's the original post and here's where it was originally posted.
No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.
So true! Memories of travels always take on a larger than life impression. The heat, the rain, the cold and tiredness are all transient. I remember a day spent at Harvard Square in December 2002, wandering around the bookstores, eating at a new age organic food cafe and drinking the life restoring-ly awesome hot chocolate at Au Bon Pain. It was a mind numbing cold day with knee high snow, but the memory has taken on a more sentimental and 'ah, those were the days' value. Now, I remember this day more for the memory of it than actual enjoyment, as I was too miserably cold to enjoy it when I was there myself.