Mação...

Ten o’clock in the morning. The sun shines a bright yellow, The air is a strange mixture of warmth and chill. The cobblestone streets cut neatly through the white and yellow houses. The church bell rings out the time. Then there is only the sound of my footsteps…

This is Mação, a little town in the heart of Portugal; nested among the hillocks and in the valley of Tejo. From the nearest hill, Macao is a cluster of bright red rooftops, set in the green and yellow landscape. Autumn is slowly giving way to winter. When you are alone in the street you think you are walking inside a painting.

Despite its near to perfect beauty, the silence in Mação, can be oppressive. At present there are only 2000 inhabitants here- either the old or the children. The young and the middle aged have moved out to the cities , returning perhaps for the carnivals and Christmas alone. The nearest train station Alvera Ortiga is 14 kilometers away and the nearest big town Tomar a hundred.

Mação, houses the Museum of Prehistoric Archaeology which will host most of my masters classes during the next two years. Here is where I found myself on the afternoon of the 11th of September after not-so – eventful trip from Delhi.

Delhi

I don’t know if it is the place or the people or both that grows on you. It was only and on passing through Entry 1 Gate A of the Indira Gandhi International Airport after goodbyes to Akhila and Arathi that I felt that I am really leaving. In the general gloom, every little issue seemed big- the luggage excess, the transit at Paris, the exit at Lisbon. (Sreejith I should confess that though I have insisted my dislike for cities many times, I think I was wrong. Silences like we have here can be killing sometimes.. and I do miss Delhi. )

The baggage was accepted without question at the Air France Counter and they offered me the window seat. The bearded middle aged man who helped with the luggage turns to me and say in Malayalam “Padhikkan povvano? Midukkiyayi padhichittu varanam” (Going for you studies? Be a good girl, study hard and come back). Now I can go peacefully, knowing that I have to come back.

I spend the rest of the time in the airport making phone calls after phone calls… After an hour delay we went on board at 1:30 am. The Air France flights are modest in comparison to say Emirates. The food is quite sad and I was not in a mood to have wine. The couple that sat next to, me were pleasant, but silent. And the couple in front of me were kissing a lot (or so it seemed from my vantage point). So after a movie and an hour of sleep we were all set to land in Paris

Paris

It was 6: 30 am down there. Paris from above was a huge display of lights. The streets are rows of yellow dots of light. Through the maze the lines of cars move like shining white caterpillars.

The Charles De-Gaulle airport is just as chacha described- tubeworms! Its huge, but honestly, it is not a pretty sight.
I only had 45 minutes for transit. With the boarding pass for Lisbon already in possession, there really was nothing to worry about. Still I was much tensed. From Terminal 2E to Terminal 2D it was over a kilometre walk..err… run. Along my run I met the first police men/women ‘dressed in blue’ (“I m police man dressed in blooo… here are the things I like to doooooooo..”) And finally when I reach there panting the lady at the security check stops me. There is something suspicious in my hand luggage.. which turns out to be nothing! She was quite amused to see my plastic dolls (Neha , Anu the dolls you gave that cry Rachel…raiiiicheeeeel).

And at 7:30 am the little aircraft to Lisbon starts its ascend…