I was a worker bee, but yearned to travel. I went to bookstores to research my trip. I bought an India travel guide and absorbed it as if it were a page turning novel. I read that the monsoon season ended in India the end of August. It was May 30th when I left the US, and spent three months in Europe, just biding my time, while having the time of my life.
On my birthday, August 16, at age 32, I flew to India. A mishap caused my backpack to not make the flight on a brief transit stop from Sri Lanka to Southern India. I spent two frustrating hours in the Trivandrum airport lining up my backpack with hopes it would show up a few days later.
Resigned to the fact that there was nothing I could do, I took my trusty India guide and asked an auto rickshaw driver take me to the Hotel Blue Sea. As I was whisked through the balmy palm lined, slow paced, exotic streets, I completely forgot about my backpack. In that moment, my life had changed forever.
