Maybe it was …

 Looking down from hill of our hotel as we wove our way through the city early Saturday, maybe it was the way the street lights looked like flickering tea light candles tucked in black silk fabric flowing across a giant table as though the dinner party was about to begin and the whole city was invited.

Maybe it was the smell of exhaust mixed with rain and burning chapatti. 

Maybe it was the site of straw brooms sweeping dirt up into the atmosphere and off the sidewalk. 

Maybe it was the sounds of horns hooting from bodas and taxis bumped and swerved their way into the city. 

Maybe it was the feel of the early morning air coming in from windows already down keeping us cool and awake. 

Whatever it was, it felt familiar. It felt normal. It felt like home.