I was quite sad to be leaving my hostel to be honest. It’s the first place that has felt like my home since I was living in London. Its strange but when people ask me where I live I don’t know how to reply. I don’t technically live anywhere. I end up saying ‘here’. With my parents being divorced, people assume that I have an option of two homes even if I no longer have a place of my own. But neither of these places is home. Well not mine at least. Not anymore. I feel like I’ve grown into adulthood and living with parents is no longer an option for me mentally. But I’d much rather feel this way than stay living a cosy life where my parents are happy to wipe my own bottom for eternity. At this age, they should be able to help me out when it’s needed but also be able to kick me in the backside and get me to ‘pull my finger out’ as my father often says.
So yes, miss this hostel I shall. And miss Aunty Rema too. I called her that as she was like family to me. She would worry that I wasn’t eating enough and ran to me with a cup of tea and a hug when my eyes watered so much from getting mosquito spray from my hand to my eye. She didn’t even charge me for it like she did the others. She even gave me a discount on accommodation and argued with my tuk tuk driver to give me a good deal. Ideally she would like me to return to work with her and it is defiantly something to consider. Who knows, I may return in weeks. But plan ahead of necessary time is not something I like (or need) to do.
So off to Jodhpur I go via sleeper bus. See you in 7 hours.

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