Lonely
"Blast," Ginny muttered, dragging a sweaty lock of hair back out of her eyes. She squinted into the bright sunlight at the merchant who had grabbed her arm and attempted to look politely disinterested in '1,000-year-old relics' that consisted mostly of broken pot shards and carved bits of brick. It wasn't difficult. I should have walked to the beach today, she thought wistfully, and took a sip of her water bottle.
She thanked the merchant and moved on, her stomach beginning to remind her of lunchtime. Maybe there was someone in the thousands of little booths that would sell her an ice-cream.
Despite the heat, Ginny was enjoying her stay in India. Writing for the World Wizarding Guild had many benefits, not the least of which was being paid for high-class globe-trotting. She missed Harry and the family, of course, but she could always Apparate back on the weekends, and they were busy with their own lives in any case. It seemed like Harry hadn't stopped to sit down since taking the ministry post, so it was just as well that Ginny had something to keep herself out of his hair.
She wished she had someone there with her, though. She wished that she could show Harry the life thronging in the bazaar, or Ron the flying carpet races. There's just too much interesting stuff in the world to not share it, she sighed, looking out at the mill of people.
…and souvenirs don't count.