Jan 16 : elaborate version

My flight was pretty ok.
After saying goodbye in Zaventem to Katrien D, Alex & Anna, Tim V, brother Bart and brother Stefaan & Tatjana (which, by the way, was very much appreciated), I went through the gate (B, for those curious few amongst you). I reached my final destination (for the time) relatively easily, taking but one wrong turn, and found out my plane had a 20 minutes delay.
I had a cigarette & lounged a bit. (I am not good at lounging)
I boarded the plane and spent the next couple of hours in silence, watching a movie that didn’t really stick to my mind (apart from a relatively nice appearance from Ashton Kutcher as an assassin for hire). Right when we were about to land, I decided to talk to my neighbour, however. Cause that’s one of those things I feel I should (be able to) do. He was called Lucas and had a charming French accent (though he was not actually from France, it turned out after some conversation. Where he was from, I couldn’t fathom, considering that he named way too many places he had lived in). He was on his way to Bangkok where he was about to throw his life around (not the first time he did that, it turned out). I told him I was in a relatively similar situation.
We both got out at Cairo (it would have mightily surprised me had he decided to stay on board) & stuck together a bit (Cairo was, for the both of us, a virginal experience)(in the sense that it was our first time there, not in the sense that it had a virginal outlook. It was Egypt. Use your head). We had a coffee, I had a cigarette in the smokers lounge (smokers lounges in airports deserve a post by themselves. Though I do not know whether I will be the one to write it). He then boarded a plane to Bangkok. I had another coffee. I then boarded a plane to Mumbai.
There was a relatively nice guy. Didn’t quite catch his name. It was Indian-sounding though. No surprise there.
He accepted one of my strawberry shoelaces (those who know them, know what I’m talking about. Those who don’t…. I pity you) (btw: thanks again for the goodbye gift Stefaan). I had only wanted to be nice (he did not have the international look Lucas had), but he obviously had other ideas. He talked to me about my and his work (he was in the paper business, which, for some reason, he thought would make him my enemy (as a “green boy”)), he asked whether I ate out a lot (yes) and that I should consider marrying. Marrying solves the problem of cooking, cleaning and shopping apparently. I told him I thought I was too young, but that I would consider his ideas.
Arrival in Mumbai slightly ahead of schedule. I was awaited by a nice chauffeur whose name has now (permanently) escaped me. He dropped me off at the apartment. I unceremoniously took the elevator to the wrong floor and finally ended up at the right one. I rang the bell & was let in by Krish.
I took a cold shower (literally) & met one of GVs Directors & his wife. Michael Beninga & Ingrid (names which I find delightfully easy to pronounce and write, especially considering the trouble my new country men seem to be having with them)(for those having an “aha!” moment, don’t worry. I do not yet consider Indians as my countrymen. As before, I find myself feeling more European and Belgian by the day)(then why did I use the word? Because I felt like it and because it sounded nice, why else?). He’s Dutch/Swiss/Spanish/…. , she’s South-African/Swiss/Spanish/….. Both are nice. I also met the offspring of Krish. Two rather active girls called Kavia & a-name-that-I-can-never-ever-remember, aged very-young. Also, very nice.
All four had met my Godfather & Uncle, Herman De Latte. The world is not as small as it feels.
I wanted to go out to Inorbit (the local mall) to buy some basics (aka: Toilet Paper). Had to read a business plan of GVV (Green Village Ventures) instead, to prepare myself for the upcoming trip. I fell asleep halfway, having accomplished neither my intended, nor my final plan.
We left by 6 PM something –ish. We took a taxi (a nice, AC-ed one) to one of the major rail stations in Mumbai (the name, like an experienced convict, escapes me). There we took a train to Barshi.
We ended up in the2nd class, played some cards (that I, oh happy happenstance) had brought with me. I taught them Wippen - the game of Kings – when we found out (the hard way) that it’s really quite impossible to play Texas Hold’m without coins or anything that can serve as such. I was glorious.