Drinking sake in Arusha, or, the joys of travel

I love travel, I love going to new places, I love finding out what people eat, what people read, what people call this and that in their own language. I love talking to people about the politics of their countries, I love hearing them talk about what their priorities are, shooting the breeze over the local brew. I love shopping in new places. I enjoy exploring differences, and I love being surprised by the similarities. Then there is this thing about travelling; encountering the familiar in a new setting, an experience that turns that familiar thing into something, well, magical. I am writing this from Arusha, where I am teaching trade law at Trapca, the Trade Policy Training Centre in Africa.  Last night I walked from my bright and shiny hotel to a little Japanese restaraunt that I had spotted a couple of days ago. I drank possibly the best sake I have had in five years. Around me, Swahili was flowing, from the speakers, Japanese music was streaming. The experience should have been no different to drinking sake at the Sagano, my neighbourhood Japanese restaraunt in Geneva, and yet it was. I stayed there gorging on sushi for far longer than I intended, and walked to my hotel in a sake-soaked state of dizzy happiness at being alive, right here, right now.