Pakistani Muslim pilgrims cling on to a

I’ve been gone baby, but y’all already know that. Where’s all the posts? Where’s that little bit of Samuel text to brighten up my dreary day? Well the words have been on holiday my friend, along with their author, we’re over here in sunny Sri Lanka where I now sit by a pool enjoying a beer, polishing off my last curry of the trip.

However today was not all paradise. Getting to this beach near the airport required a 7 hour train journey, of which I spent every single minute standing, squidged in the middle of sweltering, sweating Sri Lankan boys. For being unbelievably hot, absolutely unable to move, having a nose stenched up with so many different sweats that I felt it almost became strangely fragrant at one point, I was actually surprised at how fast the time went by. This only leaves me with the belief that I must have a very powerful head, one competent of effectively transporting me from any unwanted situation to a distant, personal place of happiness and wonderful thought, untouchable by the physicalities of its surroundings. Either that or I just love sweating Sri Lankan boys. Who knows.

I did actually sit for the last five minutes, though I wish I hadn’t. While standing for the prior 7 hours, I had watched those with the chairs, and thought their predicament was only little better than mine; we were all trapped in this big ol’ sardine can together, what difference did it make having to bare it on your feet or ass? But having sat down, I plunged my head out the window and felt the coolest of breezes whisp through my salty hair as I briefly took in the last views of what had been one of most incredibly scenic journeys of my life. But unfortunately these last views were only that of the shitty, slummy suburbs of Colombo. All the scenic stuff I had only watched before standing and squished, through a winced eye that flickered in combat of the perspiration attacking it from my forehead (and probably from some other peoples’ as well). I didn’t realise how incredible it could’ve been waving goodbye to the vivid, rolling Sri Lankan greens of the mountainside if done so with a head full of train-generated breeze. The brief experience of sitting – in typical human fashion – rather than making me grateful for a final burst of pleasure, only made me begrudging for that which I had – until then – not realised I had missed. My only conciliation lies the idea that, in a world where I had taken a windowside seat, while holding my head out of the side of the train I may have been decapitated by some tree’s vagrant branch, and so perhaps I should just have to be grateful for the standing and hence still holding my life.

Maybe I have more to write about Sri Lanka, maybe I don’t. When I spend time away from the blog, it seems to become like a burden, like I’ve been neglecting something and I have to come back in grand style. I start putting writing off and off, and in the end do nothing. I realise now the importance of just coming and writing something, because then I know I will come back soon and write something else.

So yeah, consider this something.

And expect soon that I’ll be back to write something else.

About Sam

Hi I'm Sam and I write here exclusively at Samuel's Travels. Exclusively as by and large no-one wants me writing anywhere else. Please enjoy yourself while reading.
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