Déjà vu, all over again!

As much as Ecuador was a new country for me, and knowing only a couple of words of Spanish was a constant reminder that I was a foreigner there, there were also quite a few times that places and things felt familiar. Déjà vu, all over again, as Yogi Berra so eloquently described such emotions.

And it is not because of my Venezuela experience either.  While that played a role, it was far too minor.

The sharpest of all such feelings of having experienced it before was when I was walking around in the museum/public library by Plaza Grande.

I looked down at the courtyard from above.

"I have seen this before."

I tried to search through my memory vaults, and opening and closing those doors isn't as fast and easy as was the case in the past.  If trying to recall things at this age is this difficult, then growing old will not a fun trip for sissies like me!

I walked around. Found the stairs to the terrace-roof, and those doors were open as well.

The cleaning crew was there.  Off to one wing of the terrace were the female crew of four.  And it was a mixed crew on the other side. I was the only tourist who was on the terrace, and was glad to be there by myself.

It was like the old days at home in Neyveli, or at grandma's in Sengottai.  Even at my parents' new place in Madras, where I go up to the terrace almost everyday when I am there, and often think of the times we have had mixed rice under a full moon sky during those Neyveli years.

My mind kept thinking about the courtyard déjà vu, like the tongue repeatedly trying to dislodge a food particle that is wedged between the teeth.

And then it hit me.  I figured it out.  It was "eureka" time.

I had seen a similar courtyard in Goa!

I suppose the Spanish and Portuguese colonial architectural styles were not all that different on opposite sides of the planet!

It was one of those many occasions when I missed having somebody beside me to share these thoughts.  I exited the building, and as I joined the masses down on the street, I was struck by the irony of "being alone" even while jostling my way through the narrow sidewalks, in a city of two and a half million, and in a world with nearly seven billion people.

Was a profound revelation that feeling lonely is merely a state of mind.  And that was no déjà vu.