“The core of mans’ spirit comes from new experiences.”
Those damn rats! Their tiny pitter-patter is multiplied into a roaring thunder, at least to my sleep deprived brain, as they scurry to and fro on the tin metal roof above my head.They have kept me awake all night, though I silently acknowledge that they aren’t the only reason I can’t sleep. There is also a passed-out drunk Indian lady curled up half-on half-off the blanket we are using as a bed, and someone is rattling the scrap piece of metal that doubles as a door to the shack next to mine.
I am sleeping in an Indian slum, one of the last places in India you would expect to find a young Western girl who is traveling solo.
The Wandering Nomads 