Thursday, 4 August 2011
I had two hours before the train left. Two hours in which I had to successfully find my hostel – not an easy task, especially in the falling twilight – repack my bags, carry them bodily to the main square, acquire a taxi, drive to the station, and board the train. I had enough time. But I wasn’t eager to dawdle, and I was walking briskly.
The lane was narrow, no more than two feet across. Ahead, I could hear the excited chatter of little boys around the bend. They came into view, and one of them, perhaps eleven years old, defiantly placed his arms athwart the passage, staring me down, daring me to continue.