I can now wistfully remember the days that meeting a new group of international friends was wildly exciting and so very exotic. Sadly I have now come to the finite end of my ability to permanently live in hostels.
The voluptuous woman entered the centre of the circle and began gyrating to the complex beats of the music. Large glistening bubbles floated down from some unknown source close by. We wandered further along the street as a bedraggled band blasted the sounds of their “I love Ganga” rendition. A trumpet bellowing street band started to weave its way down the street. Within moments the two vastly different music groups picked up the beats of one another. The song became one brass band and electric guitar rhythm to the delight and wonderment of the crowd.