My backpack tore when I reached the hostel. I knew it would give way considering I had filled it to the gills with everything from my hair serum to a dhinchak frock just in case I went clubbing. So my dorm mate helped me buy a bag. In the back alleys of East Nanjing Road, inside a room in a house and a room in that room lies the seller-of-fakes. Or cheaper-than-departmental store fare. They hustle for customers on the street and then you have to follow them furtively-as if the local police don’t know these establishments exist. Thus I bought a new suitcase. Too big and a trifle expensive-I did not bargain hard enough.

Now the backpacking title of this blog is no longer applicable but I’ll continue with it. For the sake of continuity.