Simple visit in a temple (mistakenly taken for the one actually wanted to visit), following the others in their awe and boredom mixed into a tourists’ custom of appreciating whatever is there in front of their appreciating faces, made me think of inadequacy of traveling in general. Traveling as getting away from home to relax, to explore, to find inspiration — that all sounds fine — but in reality isn’t it anxiety, boredom and existential fears that drive us to fly to the end of the world, drink bottled water and mango smoothies, ride a scooter through mountains just to find ourselves in front of some cryptic ancient sculptures, where nobody has the slightest idea of what they’re actually looking at? Or intellectual eagerness to study anthropology, to be able to get beyond just the names of deities, and ancient royals which happened to exist in some remote island which turned out to be a truly inspirational holiday destination once people got hold of ‘Eat, pray, love” or so. But the village roads are nice, and I have a soft spot for ancient temples I admit, so today we saw the right temple dating back to 11th century.

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