Excerpt from ’Nabelichting’, Chapter 27, Blueberries and Raspberries
One day it was Jamaica, with goat’s head soup and Rasta men, the next day Turkey, on a boat. A week later, when I woke up I knew it had to be Mexico, but I didn’t have a clue which city I was in.
‘What’s the drink of the island?’, the make-up artist answered enthusiastically when I asked him what he would like to drink after a long flight. We stood at the bar of a small restaurant in Zimbabwe, near the Victoria Falls. He had arrived just a few hours later than the rest of us and did not seem to realize where he was. I knew it was not his lack of geographical knowledge but a typical example of how disorientated you get when you‘re trying to meet the business’ needs and spend a lot of time in airplanes and departure halls, like in timeless, air-conditioned no-man’s land. Sometimes you don’t have the slightest idea where you are.