This morning, I was triggered by a tweet post by The New Yorker about Anthony Bourdain. He is to me like a long-lost friend, even though I know our age gap is too big to be friends, he just feels like one! Just like a writing on https://www.newyorker.com/culture/annals-of-gastronomy/anthony-bourdain-and-the-power-of-telling-the-truth by Helen Rosner, his power is not in the journalistic truth but his own personal experience at which he sets his feet. Anthony does not care about the refined gastronomy but about how people (real human beings just like he is) live their lives; how they feel, how they work, what they eat, what conversation they would like to engage to, and other intangible factors covering their daily experiences.
What I am about to talk in this quite prosaic photo caption is-- actually, never in my life did I taste a sugar coated donut as tasty as today. Neither did I feel my coffee as scrumptious as it is accompanied by the sweet donut. inspired by Anthony, I post this messy after-breakfast picture to respect his teaching. So long, Anthony, your ideas are always the things that I can return to every time life drains my energy and soul. Oh, crap! I need to write longer and relate this caption with my previous experiences in India, with all their messiest pieces of my on-train travel.
“ Travel isn't always pretty. It isn't always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that's OK. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind. “
