For a reason I can’t quite put my finger on, perhaps it was watching ‘Bend It Like Beckham’, at a young impressional age, I have always been quite into Indian culture. (Here’s me gushing about the musical adaptation a few years ago!) The lights, the traditions, the traditional dress, I loved it. I hoped one day to attend an Indian wedding and wear a saree. A very specific want, again don’t ask me to try and explain.
This summer I had that very chance, not only to attend an Indian wedding and wear a saree but also in bloody India! The only problem was, that I already had plans to attend a concert in Amsterdam the same weekend of the wedding.
I had bought the tickets way back in December, and I had been looking forward to the trip immensely. My travel there and back at this stage had already been paid for, and I was just in need of accommodation.
My initial reaction to the wedding invite was a rueful no. I had no one to go to India with and I didn’t think it would be great place to start my solo tripping life – I reserve a smaller place, closer to home for that – and also, I had already committed to attend the concert.
However as time went by, and accommodation remained unbooked I found myself thinking more and more about the wedding and India. This was a once in a lifetime invite, how could I decline to go somewhere I’ve been before and would likely go again?
And with this, I decided.
I’m going to India y’all.
I’m equal parts nervous and over the flipping moon! I will be meeting up with travel partner extraordinaire, Miwa, there so we’ll take good care of each other.
Little me, in India. Leggo!