It’s inevitable to find myself awake in a room and to have to mentally flick back through the playing cards of my life to remember where I am. What city, country, time, who, where and why I am there. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing no reflection. Momentarily startling, challenging.
Stumbling around in the dark trying to remember the layout of the room, it never occurs to me to search for something as small as a light switch in unfamiliar surroundings. Instead I stagger and bump into walls at midnight.
Such is the life of a traveler. There have been a few location switches in the last six weeks, six months worth of travel tucked into a suitcase weighing 13.2kg. An ignoble arrival drenched in the hot sweat of fever and rebellious bowels. Two days of the limbs sinking in the weight of the humid air, pain killers swirling me in time with the over head fan. Two days of talking to a very friendly but ultimately unhelpful help desk of the bank and now I am down to this one small thing.
All I have to do now is to wake in the night and remember where I am.