Its a great feeling to be happy for the success of someone else, especially if it comes after a long period of struggle that you've observed up close. There is no trace of the residual guilt that comes with scahdenfreude--taking comfort in the misfortune of someone close to you. Neither is the feeling that the success is undeserved, which comes with your own success. It is just simple joy at the joy of someone close to you and your good fortune at being able to share in that joy. And, if you played a part in that success, the joy is magnified.
Tuesday, January 8, 2019
Monday, January 7, 2019
Brandon Hill
After my book club meeting yesterday, I had to return a book at the central library so I decided to hop over to Brandon Hill, which is not very far. I discovered Brandon Hill on my first day in Bristol, back in the autumn of 2016. I had participated in a walking tour of the city, and Brandon Hill was the final stop. It is difficult to do justice to Brandon Hill in words, but picture a green hill pretty close to the centre of the city with panoramic views. Atop Brandon Hill sits Cabot Tower, a narrow tower with a spiralling staircase. From the top of Cabot tower, but even from its base, one can look down the hill to the small boats docked at the harbour and the tall sails of the S.S. Great Britain, a decommissioned steamship which now serves a venue for upmarket events. If you turn your gaze slightly higher you see the hills that surround Bristol. It is quite a sight, even on a cloudy day. I immediately knew that I would return to this place often during my time in Bristol.
During my first ill-fated stint in Bristol, it became my go-to spot on days when I was feeling blue.
The next time I came to this place was after I had had an argument with my crazy landlord. I had never felt really home in that house and I had begun to feel a little trapped. Matters would come to a head a week later, which would result in my eviction and set in motion a long train of events which I won't go into today.
Another time I came there was after meeting a PhD student that I had been introduced to through a mutual acquaintance. I had high expectations of such meeting since I didn't have any friends or even avenues to meet new people. The meeting was a disappointment, which heightened my sense of alienation. After the meeting, I walked over to my spot at the top of Brandon Hill. As I gazed at the now-familiar scenery, it occurred to me that I wasn't tied to Bristol. I could either spend lengthy intervals back in India, working on my PhD from a distance, or with my aunt in Brighton. I had found that thought reassuring at the time.
Yesterday, my feelings couldn't have been more different. I will save my current feelings about Bristol for another post. All I will say for now is that Bristol has started to feel like home.
During my first ill-fated stint in Bristol, it became my go-to spot on days when I was feeling blue.
The next time I came to this place was after I had had an argument with my crazy landlord. I had never felt really home in that house and I had begun to feel a little trapped. Matters would come to a head a week later, which would result in my eviction and set in motion a long train of events which I won't go into today.
Another time I came there was after meeting a PhD student that I had been introduced to through a mutual acquaintance. I had high expectations of such meeting since I didn't have any friends or even avenues to meet new people. The meeting was a disappointment, which heightened my sense of alienation. After the meeting, I walked over to my spot at the top of Brandon Hill. As I gazed at the now-familiar scenery, it occurred to me that I wasn't tied to Bristol. I could either spend lengthy intervals back in India, working on my PhD from a distance, or with my aunt in Brighton. I had found that thought reassuring at the time.
Yesterday, my feelings couldn't have been more different. I will save my current feelings about Bristol for another post. All I will say for now is that Bristol has started to feel like home.
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Last Book Club Meeting
As I prepare to leave for India, I am trying to be mindful of how many 'Last' posts I write. I am aware that I have already done one on my last yoga class, and today I am going to talk about my last Book Club Meeting.
I remember how nervous I was before my first book club meeting, fully aware that I might be the only man and the only foreigner. I was right on both counts, but even though I felt quite out of place in the beginning I stuck with it. It was clearly a group of really smart but unpretentious people and discussing a book with such a crowd allows one to appreciate the book at a different level.
Fast forward to meeting 11. I was the only foreigner this time as well but I felt quite at ease. There was a good mix of veterans and newbies, and although the newbies were smart and agreeable too. Having a book club that reads only female authors is a great strategy if you want smart but pleasant people to join. Book clubbing is a nerdy hobby so book clubbers are generally smart, and when you read only women, it weeds the misogynists--both male and female--out.
Earlier, I used to go for Meetup events with the hope of meeting people I could hang-out with even if we were not engaged in an activity. Fast friends, is what I was looking for. Once I released myself from that expectation, it was a relief. Interacting with people without any hope or agenda is liberating. The non-work-related intellectual stimulation I get at the book club meetings is such a treat! Activity-based friendships might not be as satisfying as heart-friendships but they have their place in life.
To wrap up this post, I am glad I swallowed my misgivings about both yoga and the bookclub and my life is the richer for it.
I remember how nervous I was before my first book club meeting, fully aware that I might be the only man and the only foreigner. I was right on both counts, but even though I felt quite out of place in the beginning I stuck with it. It was clearly a group of really smart but unpretentious people and discussing a book with such a crowd allows one to appreciate the book at a different level.
Fast forward to meeting 11. I was the only foreigner this time as well but I felt quite at ease. There was a good mix of veterans and newbies, and although the newbies were smart and agreeable too. Having a book club that reads only female authors is a great strategy if you want smart but pleasant people to join. Book clubbing is a nerdy hobby so book clubbers are generally smart, and when you read only women, it weeds the misogynists--both male and female--out.
Earlier, I used to go for Meetup events with the hope of meeting people I could hang-out with even if we were not engaged in an activity. Fast friends, is what I was looking for. Once I released myself from that expectation, it was a relief. Interacting with people without any hope or agenda is liberating. The non-work-related intellectual stimulation I get at the book club meetings is such a treat! Activity-based friendships might not be as satisfying as heart-friendships but they have their place in life.
To wrap up this post, I am glad I swallowed my misgivings about both yoga and the bookclub and my life is the richer for it.
Saturday, January 5, 2019
Colder Snap
I haven't been so cold in a long time as I was last night. It is the height of winter so cold weather is to be accepted but this was the first time I was out late on a cold night, and that too the coldest night of the year so far. I have noticed that my body's physiology changes noticeably below 5C. Cycling up the steep hill to uni becomes noticeably difficult and I feel winded for longer afterwards (no surprises there, but my point is my body's threshold is around 5C). I also feel like I am on a brink of a cold afterwards, and load up on vitamins or take a paracetemol.
But, yesterday, was a different level of cold. I walked a friend to her home after dinner, and I could feel my voice quavering. But, the worst effect was on my hands. I was recently gifted a thick pair of gloves but I don't use them for cycling because they reduce my finger mobility and therefore my braking ability. So, by the time I got home yesterday I had not sensation in my fingers. I was afraid I would cut myself badly and not even notice. This is not the first time I had frozen finges, so I knew the misery wouldn't end immediately after I went indoors. I would feel a mild but very annoying burning sensation in my figures for at least 20 minutes afterwards and I knew not to put my hands in hot water immediately. And, my digestive system had gone into overdrive, forcing me to run to the loo. Digestive system in overdrive, the body pulling blood away from the extremities and towards the vital organs. Its fascinating how the body responds to cold conditions. And, this was just -4C.
But by the time I was ready to go to bed, I felt like a deflated balloon. I had been pushing myself hard over the Christmas break to make up for all the sweets I had been eating. I also wanted to be in tip-top shape before I leave for India so that people saw me when I looked like a scarecrow at the height of my "troubles" could admire the change. But, on that cold night, my body finally caught up with my mind and forced it to slow down. I jettisoned plans to go running the next morning and decided to hunker down. I am just lucky I didn't fall sick.
But, yesterday, was a different level of cold. I walked a friend to her home after dinner, and I could feel my voice quavering. But, the worst effect was on my hands. I was recently gifted a thick pair of gloves but I don't use them for cycling because they reduce my finger mobility and therefore my braking ability. So, by the time I got home yesterday I had not sensation in my fingers. I was afraid I would cut myself badly and not even notice. This is not the first time I had frozen finges, so I knew the misery wouldn't end immediately after I went indoors. I would feel a mild but very annoying burning sensation in my figures for at least 20 minutes afterwards and I knew not to put my hands in hot water immediately. And, my digestive system had gone into overdrive, forcing me to run to the loo. Digestive system in overdrive, the body pulling blood away from the extremities and towards the vital organs. Its fascinating how the body responds to cold conditions. And, this was just -4C.
But by the time I was ready to go to bed, I felt like a deflated balloon. I had been pushing myself hard over the Christmas break to make up for all the sweets I had been eating. I also wanted to be in tip-top shape before I leave for India so that people saw me when I looked like a scarecrow at the height of my "troubles" could admire the change. But, on that cold night, my body finally caught up with my mind and forced it to slow down. I jettisoned plans to go running the next morning and decided to hunker down. I am just lucky I didn't fall sick.
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Cold Snap
Tonight, the mercury is going to shrink to -4C, which will make it the coldest night this winter. I have written before about my obsession when I am in a place which actually has seasons. In winters, I track the temperature in Takutsk, which is the Sakha Republic of Russia's Siberian region. It's the coldest place I have found on the BBC weather app, although Barrow, Alaska, comes close. Right now the temperature there is a balmy -31C and its snowing lightly. Next week, it is scheduled to go down to -41C.
Back here in good old Bristol, the cold has brought a wave of sniffles, which makes me paranoid. Its been more than a year since I was sick and I hope to prolong this spell for as long as I can.
Wednesday, January 2, 2019
Last Day of Yoga Class
Today was my last yoga class before I leave for India later this month. I have written before about how I am addicted to that class, and had a lousy few days when I skipped it once. When I have been in town, I have only missed the class three times in a year. With a little bit of effort, I could tell you exactly how many classes I have attended, but I realize this post, and what it says about me, is weird enough already.
The yoga class is not blissful. I have been going for a year and I still don't know the names of any of the other attendees. I know that most of them are teachers, or teachers-in-training, which I suppose is why they are such a clique. Add to it the fact that I am a reserved brown man in a class of mostly white young women, and I guess you get the picture. In the beginning, I always felt like a fish out of water but the pull of the class itself was too hard to resist. The yoga teacher is simply great. The class is in the hippy part of town, and she is a bit of a hippy herself but not too much. Last spring and summer she would end the class with a 'partner' exercise, which entailed, among other things, staring into another person's eyes and sitting against their back. I used to feel supremely uncomfortable during those exercises and super-conscious of my gender, colour and reserved personality. She dropped it a few months ago, much to my relief. But, today, she did it again, possibly because this was a New Year session. And, this time I only felt mildly uncomfortable, not super uncomfortable. I guess I have become comfortable with the discomfort of that milieu. In any case, I will miss the class while I am away. It is starting to dawn on me how set my routine in Bristol is, and how much I will miss it. I will have to make a new routine during my time in India.
The yoga class is not blissful. I have been going for a year and I still don't know the names of any of the other attendees. I know that most of them are teachers, or teachers-in-training, which I suppose is why they are such a clique. Add to it the fact that I am a reserved brown man in a class of mostly white young women, and I guess you get the picture. In the beginning, I always felt like a fish out of water but the pull of the class itself was too hard to resist. The yoga teacher is simply great. The class is in the hippy part of town, and she is a bit of a hippy herself but not too much. Last spring and summer she would end the class with a 'partner' exercise, which entailed, among other things, staring into another person's eyes and sitting against their back. I used to feel supremely uncomfortable during those exercises and super-conscious of my gender, colour and reserved personality. She dropped it a few months ago, much to my relief. But, today, she did it again, possibly because this was a New Year session. And, this time I only felt mildly uncomfortable, not super uncomfortable. I guess I have become comfortable with the discomfort of that milieu. In any case, I will miss the class while I am away. It is starting to dawn on me how set my routine in Bristol is, and how much I will miss it. I will have to make a new routine during my time in India.
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Bye to Brighton
Today is my last day in Brighton. Tomorrow it's back to Bristol for two weeks, before I head off to home for a couple of months. My days in Brighton quickly settled into an easy routine on this visit. I would wake up early, do some reading, exercise, work on my essay, and then go for a walk to the seafront to catch the sunset. I saw some truly spectacular sunsets, althought towards the end of my trip it was mostly cloudy days. It seemed a waste not to go to the seafront everyday since it is so close.
The seafront also reminds me of my time in Holland, where I lived just minutes away from the beach. I discovered the peace of late-night walks along the beach too close to winter and too close to the end of my time in Holland. But, thank God for small mercies, it was a mild winter and I had some really nice walks. At a time when the demons in my head had started to stir, those walks by the sea were like a balm.
I have discovered that if one desires solitude, one has to go to places that are too far or too cold or too ugly (although no solitary place is ugly in my eyes). The other option is to go when it is dark. I seldom met anyone during my night walks in Holland, although I did inadvertently give some people the fright of their lives when they chanced upon me. It is funny how a solitary figure in the dark is more unnerving than a group of people. I realize I was able to do this because I am a man. My sympathies and solidarity to all the women inclined to solitude who cannot avail of such opportunities because of safety concerns.
I didn't go for night walks in Brighton. The beach is a pebbly beach and is not conducive to walking. And sitting in one spot on a winter night is not a very pleasant experience. Plus, I usually end my days writing a blog post now. :-)
The seafront also reminds me of my time in Holland, where I lived just minutes away from the beach. I discovered the peace of late-night walks along the beach too close to winter and too close to the end of my time in Holland. But, thank God for small mercies, it was a mild winter and I had some really nice walks. At a time when the demons in my head had started to stir, those walks by the sea were like a balm.
I have discovered that if one desires solitude, one has to go to places that are too far or too cold or too ugly (although no solitary place is ugly in my eyes). The other option is to go when it is dark. I seldom met anyone during my night walks in Holland, although I did inadvertently give some people the fright of their lives when they chanced upon me. It is funny how a solitary figure in the dark is more unnerving than a group of people. I realize I was able to do this because I am a man. My sympathies and solidarity to all the women inclined to solitude who cannot avail of such opportunities because of safety concerns.
I didn't go for night walks in Brighton. The beach is a pebbly beach and is not conducive to walking. And sitting in one spot on a winter night is not a very pleasant experience. Plus, I usually end my days writing a blog post now. :-)
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