Most travel logs, if I'm not wrong, start at the well, start of the journey. Being the intelligent reader that you are, you can probably infer the reason for that first sentence and infer the third. This travel log doesn't start from point zero, for a couple of good (and not-so-good) reasons.
1. I've been through a bout of sickness that is both a combination of paranoia, climate-shock, homesickness and of course the actual illness itself. That had utterly destroyed me at some point, but also, perhaps in an all too cliche way, made me realise that the only thing I ever really needed to check-in was just the love that people who matter have for me.
2. I've been having too much fun shopping H&Ms, conducting cooking experiments with my stove and oven, marveling at snow, taking pretty photos and uploading them on facebook (social impression management yeah.), crossing moral boundaries (by that I mean really dancing at clubs, and yes it's a boundary for me), analysing the different faces of racism (categorised by degrees of subtlety), pinching pennies... the list goes on.
3. I was too lazy to write.
It's been about four weeks into the journey and I suppose going by that I should have alot to talk about. Yet it seems such a chore to account for everything, especially for someone possessing a dysfunctional and very selective memory. In view of that what you will read henceforth would not be a chronological recounting, but rather snippets of memory bursts or musings that in their own self-selection, should assure a somewhat interesting road ahead.
Till the next musing then.
