The Naughty Boys of Chungking

Chungking is a word that sends shivers down the spines of most people in HK. Chungking Mansions is inarguably the most infamous and dingy place in Hong Kong. Almost all the inhabitants of this seedy building are people originally from Indian and African subcontinents. Well, they live like a boss. To hell with embracing the local culture of HK; to hell with the rules; to hell with civic sense; to hell with rationality. Enter the building and you embrace absurdity with open arms.

I was one of the backpackers staying in one of the many guest houses here. People from Indian subcontinent speak Hindi/Punjabi so I could understand every word they said. They are hilarious. Even before you enter the building a couple of them try to sell you stuff you will never buy in life even if you are paid for it. As you enter the building many of them pounce on you with unattractive offers of dingy rooms, calling cards, extensions cables and can openers.

They are annoyingly persistent. Marketing lessons are for social retards. Logic is mere intellectual spool. They believe in policy of brute force. As you fight past them to reach the lift lobby, you bump into a queue of people. The amount of time it takes for the lift to come is long enough to turn them into zombies. As you enter the room you realize it's hardly bigger than the lift you were in a few seconds ago.

Sorry I digressed.

The people: 

The people here are VERY insulated from the rest of HK. They hardly do anything that carries a local influence. I used to go out in a very casual attire. It helped me blend in - they thought I was one of them and didn't hassle me. The downside - I couldn't talk at all to the fellow backpackers. They took me for one of the peddlers.

One day there were two Indian guys in the lift, one of them quite new in the city. He wanted to know where he could find white girls in the city for "boom boom". The other guy claimed innocence when he said, "मैं यह सब नहीं करता (I am not into such stuff)". The newcomer's reply was brilliant - "तुम बहुत सीधे हो, बंगाली हो क्या? (you are very naive. are you from Bengal?)". I brazenly burst out in front of them.

On my last night in Chungking, I wanted to see what goes on after-hours in the area. I dashed out of my tiny room in excitement at one in the morning and went to the ground floor, the hotspot of all naughtiness. A few "import-export" shops were still open along with a few internet kiosks. This was one time when I saw African people outnumber the people of my race. I took a roundabout route to the exit. There was police outside questioning an inhabitant - a pretty common occurrence. As I strode away from the exit, I saw an Indian guy still hassling all the passers-by to buy suits or watches. They'll never give up. I think such a thing has now ingrained in their blood. They never think consciously about what they are doing, what time it is, how can they improve/change things or why they are doing it.

A few steps ahead two guys were gawking at a woman in dodgy costume standing across the road. One of them said to the other, "वो तुझे देख रही है  (She's looking at you)". The face of the other guy lightened up as he fixated his gaze on her. I went ahead across the road where an African lady was squabbling with a convenience store owner loudly. The owner had apparently called the police who was trying to pacify the not-so-happy lady. I watched the scene for a few minutes when I got bored and decided to go back. En-route the main entrance, I saw the guy still standing there enamored by the lady in dodgy costume, still staring at her. 

In the lift, an African man was talking to someone recounting the incident of her friend having a brawl with a convenience store owner. I ask him why she was fighting with the guy. He said, "She was fighting with the person." I asked him why. He repeated the same thing. I grew a bit impatient. I raised my tone slightly and asked, "But why?" The guy apparently didn't like the rise in my pitch. He assumed a grave look and said in loud clear words to me, "... because this is Hong Kong, this is not your country." I could sense copious amount of hostility in the air. I said "OK good night" and ran to my room like a hare hopping into her lair. 

The decors:

The extreme inadequacy of elevators forces you to use stairs very often. The stairway is dingy and stinky. The walls are mottled with paan stains and other noisome stuff. There are two narrow alleys flanking the building. They are strong prototypes of a dystopian cityscape. They are choking on trash and the water dripping from above always keeps them wet and smudgy. It's much better inside the building, but the environment looks very sketchy. What's surprising is in spite of a large presence of Africans, there aren't many shops selling their goods whereas you can find every desi stuff from pirated CDs of kitschy Hindi movies to गृहशोभा here.

The positive non-negative side:

Not everything is bad about this place though. The place has got amazing Indian food at a very affordable price. The people at the reception were very hospitable and helpful to me. Not all of them are illegal immigrants. There have been reports of murder and rape in recent past but the place didn't look so unsafe to me. Security has been beefed up. It just has a very strong sketchy character. Certainly a lot of underhand dealings occur on a daily basis but they are not as insolent as some articles claim. I didn't come across anyone who tried to sell me drugs or other dodgy stuff. But would I like to go there again? Probably just for the food. 

[This place has been mentioned in various well known magazines and websites like Time and CNN. It's shady dealings and sketchy character was shown remarkably intact in a very well made movie 'Chungking Express'. Watch the movie if you haven't yet.]

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Northern Laos - Mekong and the mountains

Those rivers were more than just masses of flowing water, and those mountains were more than just inanimate limestone erections.

It was beauty in its most rugged form, untouched by placid strokes of nature and unharmed by human civilization. It didn't have the smoothness of those sloping hills covered with rows of pines. It's creation was planned by disorder and shaped by chaos.

I took a boat ride from Nong Khiaow to Muang Ngoi - both sleepy touristy villages snuggled in lush green foothills of giant mountains. I could only watch in awe the towering mountains as our boat paced irregularly on the choppy waters of Nam Ou. The chugging sound of engine echoed in the mountains that flanked the river.

Sunset as seen from Muang Ngoi

Mountains near Nong Khaiow

The landscape did more than just holding you in awe. It piqued your curiosity and triggered your imagination. The mountains were riddled with caves and covered with forests. It insulated from our mundane existence a hidden world full of deep dark secrets. It was a world where sprites dwelled and dervishes danced, where wisents still grazed and humans still hunted. Whatever there was beneath those trees or inside those caves, it was something that could only be seen in figments of your imagination.

Stalwart peaks inVang Vieng, There are numerous caves and creeks inside.

A brook near one of the caves

I kayaked in Nam Song the shores of which serve the town of Vang Vieng. Mountains here weren't as dense as in the north. Vast plains separated the vertical cliffs but their magnificence didn't diminish against the distance. These mountains were riddled with numerous caves, many of them massive. Most caves had a rivulet in proximity where it was possible to swim. At many points the banks of the Nam Song were several feet higher than the water level which tunneled your vision. It was a cloudy day. All I could see was the weak currents of river and cloud capped cliffs.

View from one of the rooms I stayed in, Vang Vieng

When I was in Luang Prabang, I spent all of the evenings walking/sitting along the banks of Mekong. The river sprawled wide in Luang Prabang. Its immutable flow of water made no sound. A few minutes after sunset darkness gobbled up the whole river. Green mountains turned into dark silhouettes. Faint lights from obscure houses on the mountains shone like sequins on a dark cloth. Mellow buffets of wind caressed the water which made the reflection of those lights quiver on the surface. Time came to a standstill. There was nothing to worry about, no past grudges, no future commitments. 

Things were more than just physical things. I was more than just a human being. Those rivers were more than just rivers. Those mountains were more than just mountains.

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Bangkok - start of the Thai inning

Densely packed buildings, dingy hotels, congested thoroughfares.
Flashy neon lights, variegated signboards, sloppy makeshift shops.
Roadside squatters, touting peddlers, carpetbaggers.
Knockoffs, novelties, curios.

It is Khaosan road, a backpackers' ghetto in western part of Bangkok.

It is a world in itself, totally disconnected from rest of the city. You can indulge in a quotidian activity like eating or shopping, or get a tattoo done, get your hair dreadlocked or buy a fancy machete, knife or taser. The drawling calls of masseuses can be heard everywhere.

It was a refreshing change from the quiet of Laos, though short-lived. Everyone wanted to draw my attention; for a few seconds I was the epicenter of their lives. 

"You look Indian. Come have Indian food", calls an Indian guy aggressively. Ignoring him I go ahead, wondering if he is Indian or not. A few minutes earlier I had met some people who talked and behaved just like any Indian. They were Burmese! A docile Burmese lady working at a bookshop told me about how a lot of people migrated from Nepal and India to Burma a long time ago, and how Bollywood movies still keep alive the Indian-ness in them.

The place is filled with foreigners, and it's almost impossible to spot a Thai visitor. It certainly has a character to it, but it doesn't deserve a visit longer than a couple of hours. Khaosan is one of the worst victims of commercialization overdone in Thailand, and the accretion of touristy geegaws just doesn't seem to stop.

Having spent a night near Khaosan, I moved to an chic but affordable hostel located in a totally non-touristy area. The locality is full of swanky condominiums. Thailand has a knack for commercializing any good place (in a bad way) and it's none less than a quixotic adventure to find a good place that is untouched in this country.

I don't think I will visit any of those most visited places in Bangkok. I will tour the neighborhoods on foot, buy a good book, visit the malls and eat in different places. The city in itself is quite interesting. It feels great to relish urban luxuries after spending more than three weeks in Laos. Life is good.

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Southern Laos - pockets of nothingness while in transit

[Rather than detailing a spectacular view or an unforgettable activity, this is an attempt to share my experience of transiting between two places while traveling in Laos. It's certainly not as glamorous as bountiful descriptions of well known touristy hotspots but it deserves a place somewhere as it occupies a lot of your travel time and more often than not gives you a better toehold on local life.]

The mountains have vanished and the landscape outside is a constant drone of level land. Hot and sunny weather intensifies the humdrum of journey. I am traveling from Thakkaek to Pakse, a distance of two hundred kms which will be covered in eight painstaking hours. Three days ago I had arrived in Vientiane - arguably the dullest country capital in the world, to apply for Chinese visa in the embassy there. In the morning I had decided to move to a cleaner and better hostel; in the next two hours I was sitting in a bus bound to Thakkaek. An hour was enough to check out the flight prices, sketch a new itinerary to visit China and Taiwan, and get out of Vientiane as soon as possible. 

Thakkaek: Skimming the web about this place gives you an idea how unremarkable the place is. It's upshot is lack of cheap and clean places to stay, but the situation turned out to be grimmer than expected. With a few other tourists, I went to this particular guesthouse a little out of the town. Shaking our heads disappointedly we left the place to find something better in the town, only to come back after a couple of hours, tired and battered. The receptionist pointed at us and laughed hard before he let us in. 

The town is situated on the bank of river Mekong, and riverside is a beautiful place to spend evenings and nights. While we were having dinner on the riverside, the city on the other side of the river looked brighter, busier and well constructed. We later realized it's Thailand (Nakhon Phanom to be precise, formerly a part of Lao). For a long stretch Mekong acts as a border between Thailand and Laos. As I expected, intrusion into Thailand from Laos is very common. A local guy sitting at the reception recounted some interesting incidents of the frequent incursion. People carrying cheaply obtained weed wade across the river and slip into Thailand where it's sold at a higher price. Intruders are occasionally caught and sent back to Laos after getting a nasty beating on their patootie and paying a bribe. If they are caught with narcotics, they're (unsurprisingly) jailed. Dissembling as a Thai, the guy himself had worked illegally in Thailand for six months.

Thakkaek acts as a base for the Motorcycle loop and Kong Lor cave. Like Vietnam, traveling from A to B in Laos is expensive and tedious. So I quelled my desire to visit the magnificent cave and decided to go cross over to Thailand the next morning. 

The next morning: I am in a bus bound to Pakse, a big city (by Laotian standard) which acts as a base for exploring Bolaven plateau. Shelving my plan to leave Laos, I decided early morning to cross the border from Pakse after visiting much praised Bolaven plateau. Southern Laos is less craggy than Northern Laos and while a few places might possess staggering beauty, traveling across cities doesn't offer sweeping views of landscapes. So here I am, witnessing a prosaic countryside sitting in a bus driven by a person who is not intent on arriving at the destination at all. He doesn't hesitate to stop at every other bend or shop, and the bus trundles down the road most unwillingly.

Laos is a small country but with ill-equipped and limited transportation, journeys consume a lot of your time. And in my experience, you meet more people during traveling than you meet staying in a hostel. A  vast majority of travelers are European/American students who have graduated. It doesn't happen very often but I feel a quick connection when I meet someone who also quit his/her job to take a break from work. And even less frequent is when you meet someone with whom you can have a conversation that goes deeper than just sharing itineraries and exchanging extended introductions. And it's a delightful detour from the generalized idea of backpacking when it happens. 

Pakse: I get off the tuktuk in Pakse and the first thing I spot is an Indian food restaurant. I have come to believe there exists no place on earth that is touted as a tourist hotspot and doesn't serve Indian food. Traffic lights and coffee shops are signs of a well developed place. Mountains can be seen  struggling for existence far away in the backdrop. There's hardly anything to do in the city itself but it has a certain positive vibe and is a good relief from monotony of Vientiane and unremarkable character of Thakkaek. I have found a good room at a reasonable price. 

It's finally begun to rain after a hot and ridiculously humid day. I am going to give a premature ending to this post to enjoy the weather outside. The loamy odor from the first few droplets wetting the ground is too inviting to resist. 

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Nong Khiaow - a tropic beauty

Imagine a place nestled in mountains which has all the ingredients of an idyllic landscape - a river snaking its way through foothills of magnificent thickly forested hills, a small village that's little more than thatched or tin roofed houses, and a pace of life that almost drags to a standstill. Add a few creature comforts for tourists and that's Nong Khiaow for you.

A stalwart limestone crag fronts my room, the grandeur of which never ceases to hold me in awe. As I write, I can see clouds wafting slowly below the cliff's peak, rubbing against its furrowed exterior; some of them have snuggled into the cliff's crevices and nooks. At its foothill is river Nam Ou that flows incessantly without making even the slightest sound.

In the snail paced way of life here dwells oodles of peace and calm which relaxes your mind and caresses your senses like the salving effect of an emollient on a parched skin. It feels as if you have been put back in the rhythm of nature, as if the elements that keep your body ticking have found  resonance with the elements of nature.

Evenings here are just magical - the soft evening sunlight compounds the beauty of this place. It feels you are viewing the world through shades of sepia and sienna. The golden tinge adds to the antiquated look of the village and it's not hard to feel nostalgia creeping in. The river tinsels in sunlight as the sun rays sway over running waves of water. A boat leaves a gentle wake behind as it elegantly chisels the water surface, and sun rays twinkle when they are reflected from the backwash as if cheering in happiness. As you watch the setting sun cast a shadow of craggy mountains on Nam Ou, you wish that you could bring time to a stop.

Sunset (as seen from Muang Ngoi)

Nights here are mystic - there's hardly any trace of human activity after ten. On a clear night the sky turns into a treasure trove for stargazers and offers profound glimpse of the astral bodies that spangle it. Stars are visible till as far as the horizon. It only needs a little power of imagination to connect the dots into any desired shape. The pitch darkness absorbs all mellow sounds of wind, rustle or clatter. Geckos cry, crickets shriek and unknown birds shout in strange voices which pierce the darkness unabashed.

It's days like these when all you do is attend to your very primal urges of hunger and sleep yet you feel most civilized, when you think of nothing yet you understand everything, and when you do nothing at all yet it's a time of your life very well spent.

[I have spent probably the laziest days of my life here. The place is very cheap and has incredibly good food (even for a vegetarian like me). Even more surprisingly, in the little known place in the middle of nowhere, a place so small that it can be covered on foot in less than twenty minutes, there are three Indian food restaurants. I spend my days eating, reading, writing, taking long walks, staring at the landscapes absorbing the vibes and occasionally working on my fitness. Afternoons are very hot and probably the least pleasant part of the whole day. And only in the afternoons do I feel a little bit down. For those looking for some kind of activity, this place offers various tours and activities, but not a lot of people opt for it. Unexploded ordinances (UXOs) are a common sight here - they serve as flower pots, chisels or just souvenirs of a sad past, aptly decorating the gardens or people's backyards. I can foresee this place will lose its charm soon as it transforms into a touristy haven. There's a very similar place nearby called Muang Ngoi which is as beautiful, but a little more congested. I have gone into a state of tranquility and serenity here. I have spent four days here and plan to spend a couple of more. It will take a while before I even feel like I might get bored in this place.]

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Prelude to the end

In two days I will end my job and leave Singapore. Dulled by the drudgery and corporate rigmarole, I decided to take a break from work. I believe one should think of other things in life than just career (if one can afford to). I plan to travel, take my fitness up a notch, improve my Mandarin and learn whatever new things I can learn that might help me shaping my career. 

Singapore is an amazingly organized, clean and safe country; it acts as a good springboard to visit other countries and it has an atmosphere conducive to fitness enthusiasts and entrepreneurs. Still, the rigidity and inwardness of people here, and lack of countryside (or any natural landscape for that matter) takes all the spice out of your life. It's very easy and natural to get stuck in the groove if you live and work here.

After a long time something has made me excited. I don't know what lies next; uncertainty looms over my head, but most of the time the idea of all that I am about to do makes me very excited. I do get scared sometimes, but such instances are few and far between.

It's time to live a little more impulsive and a little less pragmatic. I hope at the end of it I end up somewhere better. Amen.

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To Darkness

You are something that has added more character to my indulgence in any activity I have done.

I have loved the feeling when my eyes have lost their focus into you. Staring in your voids, I have seen faces of people I have lost and people I would have won. I have seen nebulous distinctions of faces long forgotten delineate into clear features and sharply demarcated contours.

You have compounded my involvement in any activity, intensified the auditory sense, amplified the subtle luxury of tactile sensations, tested my spatial visualizations and laid bare the incoherence of my five senses.

In darkness I have had many a thoughtless nights, and many a thoughtful nights sitting huddled into a corner staring at the bright rays of light slashing through the chinks in the door. 

In motion at a high speed, I have spent hours staring outside at the distant flickering lights. Walking along roads lined with whirring vehicles with trailing headlights, my brain has tried to come in rhythm with the sinusoidal sounds of cars passing by. Running along the beach on a breezy night, I have seen myself too tired to process anything but the wheezing sound of air trying hard to get to my lungs. 

I have enjoyed surrendering my reality to your realm of nothingness stretching far and wide, where my imagination has run free like a soaring bird and where my thought process has taken a pause after a long engagement in drudgery. 

I know that if all else fails, you will be the one that will exist.

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Of loneliness and little thrills

[This post stands out of the common theme most of my other blog posts follow and is nothing more than negative, egocentric gibberish meant to vent out a little bit of frustration.]

Loneliness gnaws at my head, and the relentless ferocity of it rankles me. I hate and regret how a seemingly harmless habit of seeking a bit of solitude devolved into a curse of chronic loneliness. I hate how I have spent the prime years of my life depreciating myself with self hate, which grated my confidence and brought me a good deal of frustration absolutely needlessly. 

People are ever ready to give their cents on whatever they are good at, but it's not the nicest feeling in the world when you lose the basic faculty of speaking and looking like normal like a majority of people do. The only things you get to hear about yourself are negative. These things aside, there are a few moments and a few activities which give me that kick of joy under any circumstance.

Waking up after a long siesta to the brilliant masterpiece by Edward Shearmur transports you to another world. It calms down the process of your getting your bearings. Those few moments when your mind is blank, and when all it has to process is the auditory sensation that this piece creates, are so full of energy and focus that they enable you not to let any of the mundane activities around hit you. It takes you to a place where you are powerful, righteous, unregretful and happy.

In the evenings after an intensive run or a workout which usually consists little more than lots of push-ups, when your body is so tired you can't do anything, lying in the bed in the dark room is another feeling you can only enjoy. In a couple of minutes you fall half asleep, and in the state of grogginess you feel as if your body is floating.

Sadly, I don't have any other thing that gives me a feeling of joy on a regular basis. Quoting Travis from Taxi Driver 'All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention. I believe that someone should become a person like other people.' The only reason I am jotting it down is that I can't ignore it anymore and that writing is therapeutic for me. Holding it in and writhing in it's plight is of no help. Extrication is the key to calm.

I saw this movie (Taxi Driver) when I was in college. Lame as it may sound, I identified myself a lot with the protagonist. I found things in common with the character eerily which are rather uncommon in people. This is also a movie with one of the best quotes.

Quoting another of my favorites from this movie (and which sums up the last ten years of my life to _some_ extent) 'Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man.'

Caught in the labyrinth walled by my own delusions and negativity, I can only wait to leave this place. They say that brain is plastic - that it can be fashioned into something totally different. I hope this fact exists beyond just theory. I need new people in a new place. It about time. 

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Cycling: Singapore to Desaru and back

A friend of mine and I went cycling to Desaru where we stayed overnight, and backtracked the next morning. Over a period of two days, we cycled around 120 kms at a slow pace. 

The plan and the partner
My original motive behind this trip was to give my legs a muscle shock by cycling a long distance at a fast pace without much practice. It's a fast and effective way of building durability and strength. I (unintentionally) did this when I did my impromptu first half marathon, with having run no more than six kilometers before, and clocked a decent timing of 2:05:35. I invited my friend who also shares my sense of adventure and fitness to come along, and he readily nodded. He is big and powerful, and has above average stamina.
             But his slothful patootie took over him when he put his foot down and said that he would take the whole damn thing easy and enjoy the nature, the sea breeze, the beach and the mountains. We weren't speaking the same language, but he had a point - the route is scenic and worth taking a few breaks. And it's fun to have a funny guy like him along, so with a gasp and a few swear words I agreed to take it slow. Well, my muscles never got the shock but my butt definitely did!

Highway J52: A couple of kilometers from Pengerang. The beach was inundated as it was high tide.

The Route

Singapore (Changi ferry terminal) -> Pengerang (Malaysia) in a small ferry:
Typical waiting time is two hours and the journey takes another hour. There's no queue at Pengerang ferry terminal when coming back to Singapore.

Pengerang -> Desaru on a bicycle:
Highway J52 to Sungei Rengit (~ 16 kms), highway J92 to Desaru (~ 35 kms). J52 runs along the beach and is more or less level. J92 has moderate traffic with vehicles buzzing past at high speed. Another route (highway J90) from Sungei Rengit to Desaru runs along the beach and, from what we heard, has less traffic and slightly bad road.

Getting the bikes

We didn't have bikes. We rented bikes for two days from a rental shop in Pasir Risk Park on the same day and cycled to the ferry terminal. They didn't look like racing bikes from any angle but were far better than hefty MTBs. We cycled from Pasir Risk Park to Changi Ferry Terminal using the PCN for most of the part. Distance - 7 kms

Level of toughness

Pengerang to Sungei Rengit is a cakewalk since the road is level. The highway connecting Sg Rengit to Desaru is a continuous string of uphills and downhills which makes the ride challenging. When we cycled, there was constant wind blowing against us but that's a conditional thing. Coming back was much easier since the wind favored us.

Taking a break

We had our first stop at Sungei Rengit - a small coastal town with many restaurants and hotels, where we had lunch. Most people living here are Chinese. The road from Sg Rengit to Desaru passes through green mountains, palm forests and nothing else. Make sure you are hydrated and have enough resources before you leave Sg Rengit. We only found a small restaurant about 5 kms before Desaru  and it was the first sign of human civilization after Sg Rengit.

Public beach

This bit is unverified, but there is a public beach about 1.5 kms after Desaru Damai resort - a run down badly maintained resort we stayed in. You are allowed to camp at the public beach overnight.

Highway J92 - Sg Rengit to Desaru

The ride back...
... was awesome! It was raining hard when we began, and we had to take shelter under a bus stand for about twenty minutes. We then cycled in drizzle and cool wind which was an experience. Contrary to our expectations, we were much faster. We hardly had any Malaysian Ringgits. We took a stopover in Sg Rengit again, exchanged currency and had lunch in the same place as the previous day.

How tiring is it

If you cycle at a slow pace (~15 - 20 kmph), it's not very tiring. We had hardly done any cycling before, but both of us were reasonably fit guys. We cycled all the way on non-racing bikes without getting tired but ended up with really sore butts!

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Running after a hiatus

Running at ECP has been one of my most favorite activities in Singapore. Running along the beach, where cacophony of the city gets absorbed in the vastness of sea, is probably one of the best feelings you can never get tired of. There's something magical about being in motion, the dynamism of which lifts up your spirits and alleviates your worries. There is something liberating in the openness of the area and vastness of the sea. A combination of both gives you a kick that can only be imagined. 

When I run, I don't look around at the people playing at the beach or cycling on the road. My eyes stay focused on the track as I thread my way through fellow runners or strollers. But the ambiance does contribute significantly to my spirit and motivation. 

Today was the first time in 2013 I ran at ECP. No doubt I was excited. And the evening was particularly beautiful. Dark clouds loomed overhead but the western edge of the sky had cleared up as the sun was setting. So the evening was a little darker with western part of the horizon strikingly effulgent. The surroundings had assumed a cerise tinge which added to the crepuscular charm. 

I ran against, and then in the direction of wind. The relatively long break from running did not affect my speed at all. I ran the same distance I run every time. Maybe it was the ambiance, or maybe it was the feeling of familiarity I got to relish after months of soggy life at desk.

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