I am in Oman. It’s been some time since I stayed in a hostel. Constantly travelling through the year, for years, tires you out. At some point of time, I started picking cheap hotels during my solo travels.

We are all sitting in the lounge. We, is, an Egyptian, a Sudanese, an Iraqi, a very handsome Omani, his brother, a tall lanky Aussie lad, a Canadian, and me. And we are watching a football match between Saudi Arabia and Korea.

Earlier in the day, I tell the Iraqi guy that it’s the first time I am meeting an Iraqi backpacker. I have so many questions. Where was he when the Americans bombed. How do Iraqis feel. Has life become normal at all. He tells me I must go to Lebanon. ‘Why”, I ask. “The girls are very hot”, he says. Aah men.

It’s like a boys hostel. We are all ribbing each other. Banter is the first step to brotherhood.

I love the Aussie. It was his first day in Oman. Usually when we (Indians) travel to a country, we are quickly researching best things to do in that city. This guy spends his entire evening, his first day here, playing football in a park with some locals. I love how his head works.

Most of them have been to India. For most foreigners, India is always a mixed experience.

The second day, I come back from snorkelling. I pick up a book from the lounge and read it the entire evening.

I am in Oman. It’s been some time since I stayed in a hostel. And quite sometime since I spent an entire evening reading.

Travel.