Airport blog, London, July 2024

As I wait for my flight to Boston, I am seated facing a conveyor belt watching people pass even though there are rows and rows of much more pleasant seats behind me. The problem is they are behind a glass enclosure. If flying wasn't unpleasant enough, Heathrow has decided to restrict access to seats besides departure gates to passengers departing from that gate, at least in this terminal. No more can you wander around until you find a quiet corner next to a gate that is not being used. But, at least where I am seated has a lot of natural light. 

I feel like I am supposed to be feeling more feelings before such a big move. This is a step into the unknown. I don't know if I am leaving the UK temporarily (like a on-year sabbatical) or permanently (with an immigrant visa). Not that I put much thought into it or had other options. It is either this or move back to India because as soon as I got this job, I took myself off the job market. I have been telling friends that this move is akin to pushing the reset button on my professional life, something that will get me out of my professional rut. Sometimes, resetting your computer solves the problem, but sometimes it doesn't, so its no suprise I am feeling nervous. What if I don't like the work? And, what if I hate living in the US? Guess there is only one way to find out. 

A friend last week asked me what was the one thing I wanted to change about myself. I replied that I wish I was more of a people's person. To put it more bluntly and at the risk of sounding like a jerk, I wish I didn't find most people boring. I am smart, but I have friends who are much smarter than I am who don't. Ot at least they are less judgemental and/or good at faking it. Maybe I can reinvent myself as a people's person in the US? Fake being one until I become one. My mother said used to be a shy person growing up, but her activism brought out the extrovert in her. I know there is a difference between shyness and introversion, and I feel I am more of an introvert. I don't know if one can change personalities but neither are personalities cast in stone. Surely, one can tinker around the edges? And, as I wrote yesterday, it will be interesting to see how life will be differnt in a more extroverted culture like the US. 

Last Night -- a) at 78, Selbrooke Cresecent b) in Bristol c) in the UK

 Lots of lasts here, so I am going to go one by one. I have nothing but good things to say about the place. My standard of living was immeasurably better than it was in my previous house. This was the first home that I lived in in Bristol. My first house in Bristol was an Airbnb and in my next house the sitting room had been converted into a bedroom. This house is beautifully done up, and I had a warm and gentle (occasional) housemate who spends most of the year abroad. I will miss him and this house. One of the things I will miss the most is sitting in the super-comfy armchair in the sitting room on cold evenings with a cup of tea. And living here has pushed me to be less stingy when it comes to spending on my housing situation. My thirfty disposition meant that I took to living like a student a little too well and continued living like a student when I could afford not to. One's house is meant to be a refuge from the world, and any money spent on making it more refuge-like is money well spent. 

My feelings about Bristol are complicated, as the past few blog posts show. I don't have much to say other than to note that Bristol is the longest that I have lived anywhere since I went off to engineering college 21 years ago. It just occured to me that maybe I get bored of places after a while, but that is a conversation for another day. 

I never thought I would leave the UK for the US. Its a bit of cliche that people who like living in the US, don't like the UK, and vice versa. What I like about the UK is idea of personal space. Coming from a country like India where there is no concept of personal space and it is normal for people to ask if you are married within minutes of meeting you, it was a refreshing change. But, the keen awareness of personal space, and the abject fear of violating it can also come in the way of intimacy. I have struggled to make friends with British people, and some other non-British friends have also reported the same experience. Going back to things I like about Britain--dark humour, the ability to laugh at themselves. I remember that a few years ago the public was asked for suggestions for the name of a british Arctic explorer ship or some such. The Americans would have come up with a name like 'Pride of the Nation'. Britons voted for "Boaty Mcboatface". 

Ready To Move On From Bristol

 A friend today remarked that I had mentally already moved on from Bristol. She had asked me if I was sad to leave Bristol, and my response was to shrug my shoulders with that "eeeaahhhh" sound and say "a bit". Today, I did a farewell tour of the city centre. It was a sunny day and Bristol was showing its best side. As I walked around, I saw spots which I hadn't seen in ages. But, the memories of time spent in those spots simply washed over me without leaving a mark. The only spot that aroused some emotion in me was Brandon Hill. I have written about why Brandon Hill is my favourite spot in Bristol so that's no surprise. Bristol has a lot going on for it.It is an objectively very pretty city, as any visitor would tell you. Its hilliness that all cyclists curse makes for some amazing vistas and it has acres of green spaces quite close to the city centre. It a cultural and literary hub of the South-West and it has a reputation for being a progessive city. And, there was a time when I was genuinely fond of it. But, somewhere along the line the fondness curdled into indiffence. I have some theories about the reasons for this, but I won't be getting into them here. 

Farewell Tour

 I have spent the past two weeks meeting people to say goodbye, and its been heartening to realise that my community in Bristol is bigger than I had thought. I've also realised that it is possible to have people who take up space in your heart, but whom you barely ever see, even if you live in the same city. If you are single and childfree, chances are your availability is higher than people who are partenered and/or have children. It takes some time to get used to the fact that you can be friends with people whom you barely see, and accept that fact without bitterness. In the past week, I have met three people whom I hadn't seen in a year, one in more than two years.  I had a deep conversation with one of them today on a topic that is too personal to write about on this blog. We had met eight years ago when I was in the pits, and his company had offered some solace. If I had continued to live in Bristol, who knows when we would have seen each other next? But, I am glad I reached out to him and the others even though we haven't been in touch. 

My Professional Rut

This is a topic that I have spent countless hours thinking about. I have had conversations about with friends and a counsellor about how I was incredibly dissatisfied with my PhD, how it took me to a cynical place where I felt I was smart enough to see through the bull-shit of academia and academics but not smart enough to make original academic contributions. It took me a while but I realised that I had developed an impostor syndrome. And now I feel I have wrung this topic dry. There are no further insights to be gleaned, no truths waiting to be revealed. I have been given the change of scene and the fresh start that I feel I need. There is no point in the further introspection or rumination. The only thing to do is to approach this opportunity with an open mind and an open heart. Yes, the world is in turmoil, and, as academics we must play a part in changing it for the better. But, despair is an easy place to reach, and we have to take responsibility for our own happiness. The world will be what it will be. 

Lots of Small Stuff To Sweat

 I've written before about how ont learning to sweat the small stuff requires a lot of rpactice for an overthinker. Right now, I am preparing to move continents, so tehre is a lot of big stuff and small stuff to sweat. The big stuff like deciding whether to move or not was a n easychoice because it was either this or move back to India. I wasn;t even short-listed for any other jobs, and as soon as I got this offer I promptly removed myself from all job advert mailing lists. The other big stuff was deciding where to live. I spent a month searching in the apparentyl trendy town of Northampton. and was targetted by numerous scamsters, falling prey to a weirdo. But, when I decided to abort my search in Noho, and look in Amherst I found an apartment in a matter of days. I moved with a speed and decisiveness that surpised myself. In contrast, I have been agonizing over decisions like whether to mail a box of books to a friend's place or to my new place and when to ask friends if they want any of the stuff I want to dispose off. I am having to frequently tell myself, "this si not a big deal, it doesn't really matter what you choose". It feels like I sweat the bigg stuff less than the small stuff. Maybe because for the big stuff, I go with my instinct, I go with what "feels "right, ratehr than what "thinks" right. With the small stuff, there are no feelings, so I just have to go with the head. 

Last Night in Brighton, July 2024

Tomorrow morning I return to Bristol after a two-day trip to Brighton, my shortest ever. The purpose of this trip was to see my aunt and cousin before leaving for the US. Brighton, it turns out, was where I landed when I first moved to the UK in November 2016. Since the move had come quite soon after my first wobble, my dad had decided that I should acclimatize with my aunt in Brighton before moving on to Bristol. Since then, Brighton has been the place where I come to for some "taking care of"--a break from cooking and cleaning, and a break from Bristol. Initially, I would think that my visits are a burden on my aunt, since we don't have much to talk about. But, the difference between friends and family is that ties ae not dependent on each company finding the other scintiallting company. And, this might seem self-serving, but I do get the impression that she enjoys taking care of people. In the early years, my trips were longer and more frequent. I spent three very pleasant weeks here during my first Christmas in the UK, which helped to put the shock of having been evicted from my rented room within two weeks out of my mind. A big atraction of Brighton is the sea front. As one walks downhill from my aunt's home to the sea front along The Drive, at one point the sea suddenly leaps into view, with its different shades of blue and white stacked on top of one another like a multi-layered cake. And, then one reaches the sea-front, which is as pleasant as a pebbly beach could be. I have used many a walk along the Brighton sea front as a balm for my mind. 

Sickness and Access to Medical Help

The cold that I picked up in my last days in India has steadily gotten worse and the return journey from hell didn't help. I was hoping that my flight would be on time and immigration wouldn't take long, so that I could catch the 8:30pm coach to Bristol. The flight was nearly an hour late and immigration took 75 minutes, so ended up having to catch the 10:45 pm coach. My cab driver in Bristol was a chatty Cathy and by that point my voice was down to a croak. When I woke up this morning after a fitful sleep, I had a fever. My first thought was what if it was something more serious and I had to go to the doctor. My landlord is in Romania, and I would have to make my own way to the doctor or the A&E. But, I calmed down pretty quickly. The NHS protocol is not to see a doctor unless your high fever persists for three days. In India, where doctors are so easily available to people of my class there is the temptation to see a doctor and get on a course of anti-biotics. However, if the doctor won't see you until you are sick for more than three days, it takes the decision out of your hands. Most viral infections have no cure, and simply require rest and time and enforced patience is a good thing.

I thought this is the sickest I have been since dengue in 2016. but according to my blog, Covid in Fed 2022 was quite bad too. And, this time there are no pesky housemates, no spectre of Long Covid, no lectures to make up. I might miss an upcoming trip to Brighton, but if there ever is a good time to fall sick, this is it. 

Airport blog Mumbai July 2024

 A close friend and my sister asked me how my India trip was, coming as it did just six months after my previous trip (they didn’t ask this, I am asking myself). My response is I am glad that I listened to my cousin, who had gently admonished me when I told her I was planning to go to Turkey with a friend instead. My heart is full: I managed to spend a lot of time with family, reconnected with friends I hadn’t seen in more than a decade at my journo school reunion. As I have written before, it has been a difficult few months, with the genocide in Gaza and the stress of finding a job, and its always good to touch home before a big move. Yes, there were quibbles, and it does seem a bit ridiculous that I have travelled back to the UK from India unwell on the three of my last four trips, including this one. Life in India requires adjustment, and I have learnt the ones that I need to make. Be cful where you eat, eat less and exercise less. I realised that humidity zaps the appetite and my food intake reduced sharply. Memory is unreliable when it comes to the weather, but I felt like I struggled less last year when I came in the peak of summer than I did this time, even though the monsoon was underway. The rain didn’t seem to provide any cooling relief. I made sure to eat less than my (heat-reduced) fill, and the only time I had stomach problems was when I didn’t heed this rule. However, the ‘exercise less’ dictum is a new one. I am heading back with a sore throat and fever. I did an intensive routine yesterday, even though my throat was a bit scratchy and I had more or less decided the previous night to do a relaxing yoga sessions instead. I thought I had avoided the cold that was doing the rounds of my family home, but I was wrong. In any case, these are just quibbles, and not visiting India is not an option, especially as my parents are getting on in years.