I am too late. I would like to jolt traffic jam and annoyance out of my coat and to excuse myself. My host passes a hanger to me: "My mistake– I should not arrange appointments for Monday mornings."
In his office I give myself a breathing space with the story of a Native American who went by train for the first time in his life: "My body is already here. My soul, however, isn't yet." My host nods. He starts telling me.
He speaks quietly. It is about the latest news, local events, and people's expectations. Looking over his shoulder I recognise the Dalai Lama's portrait on a desk.
"My colleague has the same picture", I say. My host waits until I look in his eyes again: "Well, I am a practising Buddhist."
We smile. The sound of an indoor fountain.