And where my unplanned plans fail

Pretty much the whole point of visiting Barcelona for sight-seeing is to see Gaudi's work and I head to the Sagrada Familia. At the end of my 2 hour slow visit/walk, my camera memory is almost full. Mind is sufficiently blown. I walk around more, go past Casa Batllo and La Pedrera and realize I must get the new memory card in before I enter either of those. I mean, who goes to those places and does not take a photo? I change plans (I'm walking around the city alone, so it's no big deal), stop by hostel and eat and head towards the Parc Guell.

Barcelona is an interesting and simple town to navigate. It's laid out in a rectangular grid and there is one street running diagonally (helpfully named Diagonal), and if you seem to be walking downhill, you are walking to the sea. It takes approximately 30 seconds to get your bearings if you have a map and can read street signs. The Parc is located on a hill (the one from which all streets head to the sea) and it offers a great panoramic view of the city. It also has more Gaudi architecture. At this point of time I'm going giddy on Gaudi (yes I planned this joke long time ago). As I head back in the evening, I realize I'm catching a cold. I shrug it off and head out at night with the hostel staff again. This time it's more of a dance-y place, which gets me bored. Everyone seems to be there to get drunk and dance and I head back to the hostel. Unfortunately it's cold and raining.

I'm loading up on my dose of wifi when a troika of French who I'd met the previous day stumble back into the hostel too. They want to continue their party and the hostel receptionist joins in too. We joke and drink around till late night, and I get a sneaking suspicion that my cold is gonna worsen. I sleep in the next day, lazily visit Casa Batllo and grudgingly walk around the Gothic neighbourhood. I decide to give the "experience non-touristy food" ideas a toss and load up on greasy chicken burgers and fries. It's my last evening in Barcelona, and I'm wheez-coughing. We play cards in the common room, watch the Banksy documentary and I drink loads of tea.

The next day when I wake up, my eyes are red, I can't talk without doubling up into coughs and I suspect I'm running up a temperature. I check out of the hostel and head towards the airport to go to Palma. When I meet my host I in Mallorca I gesture-wheeze to her that I can't speak. We go to an art exhibition anyway but when I finally crash that night, I realize that my trip is heading to a mess. I'd gotten a call for a job interview when in Barcelona, and I have to ensure I get back home in time for it. My health means I should account for recovery days too.

I spend one entire day in bed in Palma, not enjoying the sun out there. Finally the second day, I venture out, walk around the town, visit more stuff and contemplate about how my trip should progress. I had decided to wing it once I reach Belgium, and try to head north. I had not booked any flights/trains/buses nor booked any hostels or contacted couchsurfers. I decide to cancel off Brussels/Belgium from my plans and decide to head straight home. Booking a last minute return from Palma turns out to cost lesser than booking a last minute return from Brussels. Late in the evening I book a flight to Barcelona - the thought of buying the ticket at the airport crosses my mind and feels strangely adventurous, even though I'm just heading back.

I reach Barcelona, and have 5 hours to kill before a night bus brings me back to France. My cold and wheeze make just want to sit somewhere, so I sit down at the Barcelona Sants station. Years ago, in school, I had to write an essay on "1 hour at the train station". I smile to myself, remembering how I had hated it, how I had no idea what to write and how angry I'd gotten at the unfairness of it all.  My parents and cousins still tease me about it, so I actually do spend some time observing people. A fight erupts between a security guy and traveler. I note with relief that this being Europe, the security guy doesn't have a gun. People stand and watch, and then move on to their trains, metros or buses. Shifts at the ticket desk change, the workers at the numerous fast-food joints dump out the trash the umpteenth time. I pull out my novel and read. Couple of hours later, I head out to the bus, grab a seat and settle in for the 12 hour long ride back home...

My "grand trip" around Europe will continue some other time.

Where I walk a lot in Spain

It's 3 am in the morning, I've just been offered a place to crash by a group of Frenchmen (and Frenchwomen? ... or is the collective word just French?). They were intent on partying, and I was just tagging along. Finally they decide that it's time to head back to the apartment. The apartment is officially for 6 people, and they are 11. So, one extra person (me) doesn't really exacerbate the situation.

The next day, I leave early to Bilbao. S is there to pick me up and the initial plans were to visit Bilbao right away and head to S's place for lunch. But I'm too tired. We head to her home. Her parents have fixed the guest room up for me. I wash up and decide to walk around Getxo. Northern Spain is wonderful, green and the towns are totally unexpected from what I imagined them to be. The buildings aren't new, but they look "different" than the architecture one expects in Europe. We end up walking around a golf course, along cliffs overlooking the Atlantic (I guess this means I've visited the Atlantic on both sides now) and through different residential areas ... it's a 2 hour/10 km walk.

Later I walk around Getxo center, attend a birthday party and eat more good Spanish food. I notice that most people live in apartments - spacious ones - and kids (mid to late twenties are still kids, cos I refuse to grow up) don't automatically move out. The party moves to a pub when the hosts' parents come back but I head home to crash. Sunday, we walk around Bilbao and then Plentzia. Long walks and long conversations.

As I head to Santander to catch my plane to Barcelona, I relax. The Ryan Air staff has been chilled out about my bag sizes, and security has been sane. But at Santander, I see some people being pulled out of line to have bag sized. I panic but get stopped only by the security, who don't like me having my shaving razors (Yes, I thought carrying blades wouldn't be bad :P). The wikivoyage site has instructed me well how to cheaply get to Barcelona center, and train+metro+walk up to the hostel.

As I settle up there, free and unlimited wifi appears. I sprawl out on the bean bags in he common room, chatting with other travellers in the hostel, surfing the net. It's evening so I just wander around the Gracia neighbourhood and later we head out with the hostel staff to a shot bar where almost each shot involves alcohol, fire and magic. (Seriously, if you visit Barcelona, stay at Sant Jordi Hostels, they are great!) Later plans include people heading to a disco/club, which isn't my thing, so some of us head back before long, making plans to sight-see together the next day.

Travel conversations

In the span of 4 days, I've managed to have multiple long conversations. I'm enjoying this.. I'm less concerned about visiting the museums and the sights of the city. It's probably because I planned my trip to begin with meeting friends.
I've passed through Marseille a couple of times, never managing to stay more than a couple of hours... or if I did stay, I had some pressing work to be done. I got touristy things done, thankfully not alone. I'd friends for company, friends who acted as guides. I saw the familiar sights and discussed nuclear energy with G (me trying to convince him why it is not a bad thing) and arranged marriages and related stuff with A (in this case me being uncomfortable with the idea as time progresses and him not so much).
In Paris, I was barely a tourist - I'd planned to see the louvre but laziness, cold weather and catching up with friends meant that went on a backburner. I did see the château de Versailles (damn is that thing huge) and the pantheon (stereotypical pic of Foucoult's pendulum taken). But I'll take away my conversations with O and Y, O explaining why he wants a death penalty and me disagreeing and him giving me enough food for thought, and Y and me complaining to each other about the sad lives of us PhD students.
The weather got worse in Paris, my face, fingers and toes froze and it started snowing the minute boarding was announced for my flight out. The flight waited the snow out, eventually being 2 hours late. I had a a bus to catch at midnight, from Santander to Bilbao which I missed. At the Santander airport I realised that the only way to the city was a taxi. I happened to hear a group of people talking on French and who looked my age. I asked them if I could share the taxi with them and that eventually ended up with them offering me a place to crash for the night. Not much conversations but they were 11, out to party for a weekend in Spain and they felt a 12th person in the apartment would not do much harm.. Thanks guys.... That saved me from freezing on the street.

Defense and later

It's done. I have a PhD now. Feels strange but not that different. Knowing that this will be the last time I'll ever be a student and that this is a degree that says you are the expert puts whole load of different pressure. The few days leading up to the day of the thesis defense were some the most nerve wracking in a long  time.

But on the day itself, I calmed down. I'd spent the previous day mucking around, reading articles, watching tv - generally destressing. And in the final mock presentation (late night, in pyjamas) I made fewer errors, and finished in time. So the defense went well. I was suited up. The jury showed up, we chatted amiably, I was given 40 minutes to present and I managed to have everything said in 39 minutes.

The questions lasted about an hour - my friends watching felt that I was given a hard time. But these were questions I'd expected, and I was strangely confident answering them. In fact, I remember actually smiling a couple of times when I was asked a few questions. I honestly felt I was given a gentle treatment.

So it's done. I have the degree now. And now I'm officially a शिक्षित बेकार. I'm looking for work now... the experience of research tired me out and I feel it's time to work in a company and let go any ideas of academic life. My visa gives me 6 months to look for a job. EU magic means I can travel through EU without much hassle, while post-holiday travel deals means I can do it cheaply.

The plan is to start off with a backpack to Paris and then Spain... and head to Brussels. That's about 15 days of the trip. After that I'll slow down and try to travel by train, bus or car-sharing and head north. I'll be traveling alone, but visiting friends, or bunking in hostels or with couchsurfers. It's something I've wanted to do (noted here), and my experience in Mexico tells me that I will get tired of it. But I want to see how long I can go (mentally and financially) and try to get a little bit of randomness back.

I'll probably blog it. Or probably not. I don't know what I'll "learn" or "discover". I do know that I will most likely end up in the growing population of people who hate Ryan Air. And I don't know if I'll be hit by culture shock multiple times.  Though now, I have English and French to help me communicate when I'm lost.

The laptop will stay home. I've rigged it up so I can ssh in from my phone or tablet. At least I can update my resume "on the go" (I'm also looking for a job, remember?)  and/or back up pictures to there. Let's see how it goes...

Suurrrpriiiise!

"Umm, dude, we all would like to take you out for lunch..."

It's a weekend, so lunch is actually an amalgamation of breakfast, lunch and dinner. Generally speaking. I'm surprised... and being treated to "lunch" by flat-mates on your birthday is a nice surprise.

We pile into the car, and head off. Our crazy humor kicks off. One wants wine. Specifically white wine. Sweet, white wine. Fresh, sweet, white wine. Cold, fresh, sweet, white wine. We stop before someone punches us.

Someone orders steak. It comes with leaves and twigs. I order rabbit. It too comes with leaves and twigs. These guys hunted the animals down as they were lunching (the animals, not the guys). The rabbit was probably holding on to the tree really tight. They couldn't separate him from his food. I'm told to drink more wine. I protest saying the rabbit in my stomach will feel suffocated. I'm told that he can't complain, cos he has no face or mouth to protest with.

The waitress asks if we would like anything else. I'm almost forced to ask for a phone number for the dessert. Almost...

"Let's go have a drink at Wayne's... It's on us."  Damn, these guys wanna get me drunk. "Nah, I'm too full to drink." Eventually I get a drink. The bar has posters. Movies, bands. There's The Beatles right next to our table.

Something clicks in someone's head and they begin singing "We all live with the orange mandarin... orange mandarin"...
----

Heading back on the highway... most of us almost dozing off. We reach home. Park the car. The trash is full, I get it out. There's our lizard, Toby, on the can. I start putting the cover on my motorcycle. One calls out, "Hey look here, this is just amazing." I suspect Toby is up to something, but he (she?) was in the other direction. I amble up, see a balloon on a tree, a step ahead and 20 people shout out, "Surrrprriiiseee! Happpy --hoooot wooooot --- birthday to you...Joyeux anniversaire.... ... "

I see someone filming. 20 people staring at me, smiling, singing, I'm self conscious. I don't recognize a few. Oh, must be couchsurfers... I'm given more wine. The glass gets refilled quickly too. Hugs, bisous fly around. Flatmates magically arrange pizzas for the guests. The look on my face is -- whendidyouguysarrangeallthiswithoutmeknowningit?

Someone puts on "Aaj kal tere mere". I'm the only Indian in the group. Huh!


Some time later, we head to the beach. I've been handed a strange mixture of whiskey + red bull. I'm already reeling. A friend plays the guitar. He plays "Aicha"... halfway to the end, he switches it with my name and some impromptu lyrics. Then he starts playing "Tujhe dekha". Plays this song from Chahat (a movie I'd forgotten about.. and probably never seen). To repeat, I'm the only Indian... rather, Asian there.

Head back to the house. There's a cake. People sing Happy Birthday in English, French, Spanish, Italian, Arabic and then German.  They ask me for the Hindi version. I say there isn't. The ask me how to say it in Hindi. They learn the phrase in a few seconds and sing it to tune.

People make sure I get more wine. They see to it I will wake up with a headache at least.

I couldn't have asked for anything better. Thanks guys. :)
---
Psst: I'm getting a Kindle with what you all gave me. :)

Adapting

You grow up believing a certain thing. You learn a certain way of life. You learn what is "right" and what is "good".

Then you travel to a new place.

Here, people eat beef, drink alcohol since teenage years, smoke stuff, leave home and become independent around the time they can vote, celebrate festivals you know about but are ignorant about the ones you care about, take off on unplanned hitch-hiking trips across several countries, aren't married even at 35, are perfectly okay joking about their beliefs and customs...

Over time, you adjust to certain things. Your digestive tract can handle assaults of heavy meat-based diet, alcohol affects you lesser and smoking of any kind still disgusts you. You enjoy the independence, love trips but still can't fathom the unplanned, time-unbound travels, and find your own way to share your festivals.

You realize that you can't really forsake "your culture" and start figuring out which parts of it work well with you and which don't. You love some traits and customs the "other cultures" have. But some of them still fall in the grey zone. You realize you still have a lot of soul-searching to do to decide how you want to live and be comfortable with the decisions you make.

There's still a lot to figure out.

Late Night

There is a faint recollection of an evening. But now it's late night. The difference and contrast amuses me. You are with your closest friends again. You are sitting in the same seat as before too, but you are not driving this time. You thought this kind of meet-up wouldn't happen, but it has already happened and you are on your way back.

This time it is late night. It is winter and half the car is freezing. The entire drive has been through heavy fog. In fact, one could look straight at the sun in broad daylight. You want to curl up under a blanket, be warm and comfortable... and that seems to be the last thing possible at this time.

Easy conversation is a distant memory. Everyone understands each other perfectly, but something still seems off. You thought you were back on great terms, but now you question yourself. At least we all understand each other... so well that sometimes we don't even have to wait for the sentence to begin to know what is going to be said. Knowing your friends so well is disconcerting.

There are no fireworks, no city skyline. Just the fog and the taillights of the truck you are following. I realize that I don't care for the city and neither did I care the last time. I just hope that the few of us who met, and the few others who couldn't make it, all get together somewhere. Sometime. Hopefully not too far in the future. The trip did not end in a city without fog... but let's hope that it will clear off soon.
----
 If this doesn't make sense, skip it. It was intended to be personal. And I wanted to publish it anyway.

Autopilot

I pull out the brochures from the mailbox, walk up to my room, dump them on the bed. Their journey from mailbox to trash had a slight detour because I saw an offer for a tablet - seemed quite cheap. I can't really afford any gadgets right now (rather, I shouldn't), but once you find one interesting deal you want to make sure you don't miss any other possible ones.

5 minutes later they all end up in the trash anyway.

Nothing to cook in the house and it's past 8 pm. No supermarkets open anymore, and the choice is between a sandwich/kebab or something-from-groceries-bought-at-gas-station. Noble thoughts like "Let's save money and actually eat better" turn to "Pizza or sandwich?" on the 5 minute walk from home.

I enter the gas station, greet the cashier. I'm tired and on cruise-control mode. I know the layout of this place, and walk to the freezer. Pick up the cheese pizza automatically. Something catches my eye - the Kebab Pizza. I pick it up, turn it over to see the ingredients. My eyes skip over the Dutch (or German?) lists and suddenly pause at the list in English.

I just realize that I was looking for the ingredient list in French, with brain set to scan for the presence of "beouf". I smile to myself. But I still can't really speak the language! Conversations are a struggle. 

Then I realize that all those deals I was reading about were in French.

I'm open-minded...

The joke on CouchSurfing (yep, I'm still pimping the site) is that every person describes himself/herself as "open-minded". In fact, you see it described so often and for so many people, that it ends up losing meaning.

I used to believe that I am open-minded and pretty liberal about other people. But I have come to realise that being truly open-minded is one of the hardest things to do. In fact, I think it might be almost impossible to be so (for me).

The whole idea behind this business is that you accept the choices that others make, the customs they follow and so on, irrespective of what you think about the matter. The actions that do not affect you are none of your business. That's how it should ideally be.

But judging someone is so easy. And so tempting. The reason you make a certain choice is because you gave it some thought and decided that you do not agree with what the other options entail. Following a religion that makes you do strange stuff, walking 3 km to save money, preferring pizza to lasagna, cheating on your girlfriend (or not) - all these choices that you made are something that you can justify to yourself. No one else can understand the reasons behind a certain decision. They can agree or disagree, but I believe it is difficult to understand.

But when I see someone doing that I may not agree with, my mind kicks into overdrive listing all the reasons that it is wrong (reasons that apply to me), and I end up deciding that the person made a bad decision. For example, I have decided for myself to never smoke (limitation not confined to just tobacco, but to other stuff too). This, however, should have no bearing on whether my friends or others should or not do that. And yet, every time I see someone I know do it, I veer towards judging them to be a lost cause.

One of the results of hanging out with non-Indians is that I can easily end up outside my comfort-zone. Unless you really face a situation that tests you, you don't know how you will react to it. So this has been a great learning experience - where I am in the process of figuring out what is (and isn't) kosher for me. And that isn't the difficult step.
Learning to not hold your standards as a measure for someone else is difficult.

Self Awareness

Blogger started a new feature not too long ago. It permits you to see the "Stats" for your blog. You get to see how many pageviews you have got, which posts are popular, what browsers were used to land on this page, which links directed them here, and what country were the pages viewed in.

As far as I know, in the 70 blog posts published here, there are only 2 comments whose authors are people I have never met/known. Until recently, I believed that my "audience" consisted of the handful of friends (and a few relatives). So I have been pretty nonchalant about discussing stuff, allowing for typos and keeping the navel-gazing narcissism alive in posts.

Now I see that some people actually read some stuff I write. (I hope it's not the same 10 people contributing to ~200 pageviews in the last month. I mean, for their sake...) Also, stuff leaves me baffled. Why is that post where I link to an article about Feynman so popular (the smiley heading, maybe?). It's normal to see visits from US, India and France - that's where my friends and relatives are. But pageviews from Vietnam, Netherlands and Latvia? Does my blog seem music to Vietnamese ears (or eyes)? Maybe I'm a local hero over there, just like Simple Jack.

And why are so many of my readers using Internet Explorer?!!! That's the real tragedy in all this.

What this all has done though, is that now I'm always curious about who reads this crap I write. My ego is inflating - I've been led to believe that is not a good thing. But mostly, I spend a little time wondering about how what I write makes me look like. (I'm narcissist and self-centered, get over it.) (Yep, pointing that out totally makes it okay. Just like saying "I don't mean to offend you" before offending someone.)

The overall point is, that I hope I manage to write the way I do, at the frequency I do and not get swayed away by fame and fortune. I will remember my minions early readers when I go to collect my Oscar.. err Nobel Peace Prize... whatever it is I am supposed to win.

Let's Stereotype

When people find out I'm from India, one of the topics of conversation is about how different the place is from Europe/US or South America. Most people I have met have been very open-minded and ready to accept that their notion of India is probably very wrong. Generally, it is... and they have been great enough to hear me ranting about my own little version of how or what I think India is like. (Staying outside & meeting other Indians has made me realise that my knowledge and experiences in & about India are quite limited).

The thing that has begun bothering me is how this image of India (or any place) has propagated. See the photo albums of any person (read as non-Indian) who has visited India. There will be very few pictures of any monuments or historic/heritage sites. A lot of pictures of people in colorful clothing, pictures of busy markets and such. And then, pictures of "cute kids", mostly from the slums, or pictures of cows or animals on the road, or trash littered around.

Are we (= people of India) a museum? OK, I get it that you have never seen half the stuff happening here. But then if I come to the US and take a picture of a Steak n' Shake because there are none in India, why would I be looked at as an idiot? Why do so many people who visit India never find out about historical structures or the nature spots we have. Since I'm from Maharashtra, my examples are going to be - the forts built by Shivaji and the Marathas; the Ajanta - Ellora caves; the hikes in the Sahyadri mountains; the national forests/parks; the palaces built by different Mughal emperors and so on.

How many people who visit Mumbai take pictures of the CST train station? Or go to Elephanta caves and the Sanjay Gandhi National park? The Marine Drive is not as long or clean as the Promenade des Anglais in Nice, but trust me, it is a view you shouldn't miss.

Maybe when we visit some "western" country, we should try to capture the negative stereotypes. Like highlight how firefighters let a house burn in Tennessee, US. Or take pictures of dog shit over the streets in France. Or talk about how dirty the metro in Paris can be at some places. Or take pictures of the dirty subway in Rome. And talk about you can smell urine when you go down the stairs to the subway. Let us take pictures of the dirty, oily canals in Venice. When you go to Miami, ignore the great city-scape and focus on how easy it is to get drugs and talk about the crime.

I've heard that places in New York are dirty and littered too. Mention always how marriages don't last in the US even if it may not be true. Take pictures of drunken college parties and how you see people puking on the streets. Or marvel at how widespread smoking (tobacco and weed) is in France and how easy it is to get it. Marvel at how in a "modern" country like France, you will routinely see men peeing on the streets. Let's mock them because you cannot get anything on a Sunday and you are basically crippled. 

Just a bit of advice before you actually go do these things. I wouldn't recommend taking pictures of kids on streets because you might just be labeled a pedophile. And stay away from the homeless people you see in the US, and don't try to take their pictures, because they might knife or shoot you. It is better to try to approach the homeless and street kids in India.

Yes, and...

One of the most basic rules of improv comedy is the principle of "Yes, and". What it means is that in any improv game/ performance, if some actor says some line, the others have to support him. But supporting doesn't just mean saying "Yes" to what he said. You also have to add information to the fact, and make it a full-fledged idea.

If you see the show "Whose Line is it Anyway?", the 4 actors never say no. If one of the actors calls the other male actor "mom", the other one doesn't just call him "son" back, but also establishes some other fact of their mother-son relationship. The little time I spent trying to learn improv, I was forced to sing on stage, attempt to mimic a "spanish love songs" themed radio station, try to sing rap (thank god there is no evidence to support this happened), and acted in college made TV show. But the thing is, I had damn good fun. 

Around that time, quite a few people had told me how I had successfully managed to deflate their enthusiasm, and probably made them want to avoid me. I thought I had talked to them rationally, and had given them practical and reasonable answers to questions they asked, and plans they had proposed. For some things, there is no right answer, and in such cases, it's so much better to go with the flow. 

There are moments when I've decided to say "Yes" to stuff. Of course, it was sane, legal and did not involve any dangerous situations. But in the last three weeks, I went hiking, roller-bladed in Paris, saw great movies with new friends, picnic-ed & drank wine 5 days in a row on the beach. In spring, I learnt how to sail a catamaran, a course I will re-enroll for in September. And then next week, I'm going canoing in Hungary.

After one party, some people who had missed the bus needed a place to stay. They got it. :-). And then we met some nice couch-surfers on the beach in Cannes. They had come with a tent to stay on the beach, which is somewhat illegal here. My friend asked me if I could host these guys. Yes! It turned out that these two were friends of the CSer I stayed with in Paris, and were at one of the events I had been to there. I looked at the pictures I had taken there, and I found them in the crowd of people in the pictures I have clicked. Small world.

A few months ago I would not have imagined letting two people I had just met on the beach to sleep on the couch. It's really hard to let go and say yes. Knowing me, I'll soon probably go back into my shell and attempt to be my boring self. A PhD in robotics sometimes seems pretty easy compared to learning to say yes. But I guess I should keep trying...

Notes: Paris

1: Too many people hyped it up for. Sigh.... I wonder why Rome doesn't inspire the same thoughts in people.

2: Holy SHIT the metro is everywhere. It's like big brother. And there is barely any region in the metro where you cannot get a GPRS signal, let alone normal cell phone coverage.

3: Can someone tell me a time of the year when Eiffel Tower or Louvre is little less crowded? Also, can someone gift me a wide angle lens before I go see these places again?

4: The river. It adds something to a city. The sight of a full, serene river is magnificent. It helps that there are 400+ years old buildings on either side of the river.

5: Roller blading / Inline skating in Paris is fun. And painful. My feet hurt for 2 days. Try it people. A map and skates and off you go.

The past few days, I have been wondering why I wasn't floored by Paris. It's lively, yes; and it's busy. It's got old, giant buildings with loads of history that made me think two things: "Whoa" like Keanu Reeves, and "umm, whats wrong with us Indians? What do we not want to protect our own structures and locations?" But is it a city to visit alone? I don't know.

I wasn't alone, in the strictest sense of the word. I met loads of new people. Partied, picnic-ed, sight-saw did some sight-seeing, lunched, roller-bladed, took-pictures, got lost, cooked, with these people. I think I made some fun friends, who I hope to catch up with soon. But there was this one moment where I wished that a bunch of people I knew, from India and US, should have been on the trip with me. A phone with internet gives you all info about a place you are visiting, but wouldn't you rather eat up half-truths told confidently?

A place where I was at bliss being alone is the Musée des Arts et Metiers. There is a link to the official website (which is mostly in French) on the wiki page. This museum holds the original Foucault's pendulum, and loads of other stuff. The best part - it's almost empty, because it's got science exhibits. The place is where the climax of the book Foucault's Pendulum is set; a book which I enjoyed a lot, even though I found it very difficult to keep up with.

Fun Fact got from the museum: To calibrate the measure of 1 meter, the distance between Barcelona and Dunkirk was measured, over a period of 7 years. They got it right to a few millimeters (2 or something). This was in 1792-9. Yea. Deep breath. Soak up that. Try measuring the length of your room correct up to 2 mm.

I spent over 2 hours on one floor of the museum, the one that housed all these stories. I rushed through the other parts, the comparatively recent exhibits (just 100 years old or so on).

Do I want to go back to Paris? Yea. I feel I have missed something. Not just the fact that I didn't go inside Louvre. Or Notre Dame. I can't pin point it, but I want to go back and stay a few more days.

Does that mean that I actually like the city after all?

Fleeting...

If you haven't signed up on CouchSurfing, go do it. I started being involved in it a few months back so that I could meet some English speaking people close to where I live. I haven't hung out much with locals on CS, but it looks like a good place that attracts interesting people. Or maybe everyone is equally interesting.

The most rewarding thing is the experiences with the travellers you meet. The idea behind CS is that you host some traveller and let him/her "surf your couch". Free. And when you travel to another place, someone else "repays" you with their hospitality. Meeting these travellers is an eye-opener. You realise you barely know the world. 

I met a guy from Estonia, who has been hitchhiking all across Europe for the last 8-9 months, living with CSers. He plans to return home for a "recharge" and then head to countries he hasn't seen yet. Another guy I met has lived in 6 countries in the last 6 years. He has travelled to more than 30 or 40. He lost count. This, of course, not on business. A girl who has lived in Turkey, Australia and does not remember her first couchsurfing experience, because it was so long ago. She is as old as me. A guy, still in his teens, who knows boats inside out, has sailed to more countries than I have been to, and is living encyclopedia of music. A girl, who doesn't want money but probably "lives" more than I do. A retired American soldier who now works as an analyst.

You meet these people and realise this is nothing you imagined possible. Things they have done would be impossible to do back home, or would be considered foolish. People routinely take a year off. What's the hurry? Back in India, everyone would be horrified. 

And in spite of all the differences, you get along perfectly with the people you meet. You spend a few days and share unforgettable experiences. And then, you leave (or they leave), with almost no idea of whether (and not just when) you might meet them again. It probably works the same with everyone you meet.  Most of the people I met in school, or college will never bump into me again. Even if we do, we will barely have much to talk. Even close friends have grown apart, and some of us great buddies can barely meet more than once a year.

I'm fine with that. I had time with these people and got to know them. Spend time with them. Moving away from friends was always tough, but you have enough time to deal with it. With good friends, you probably spend weeks having parties and meet-ups just to say bye. What is weird for me is that you get only a few days with interesting people, and then you probably never see them again. So the days are packed with discussions and opinion sharing. A few days of connecting and getting to know people, and then it is back to square one. Repeat with different set of people.

It is fleeting, but I'm happy it's happening to me.

PhD...

Notes taken at a meeting: "Everyone is equally lost..."
"मीटिंग मध्ये काहीच होत नाही."
----
I start getting increasingly frustrated with reading a biology paper on knee motion. Decide to talk to a friend in the room.
Me: This biology stuff is so damn boring.
Him: Yeah, you look totally uninterested in it.
Me: This paper describes the motion of the knee in text, no pictures. And it uses all the technical words for body parts. I have to look up wikipedia all the time.  
(Note: I loved the fact that until now I had nothing to do with biology. I had never read a bio paper until now. So my ignorance should be excused).
Him: Why are you reading it? Is it useful?


Me: ... (thinking hard)... I don't know...
I really don't know....

Tough Questions

Some questions I've been asked which I always find it tough to answer:

1) How is France/USA? / How does it feel to be in India?

2) What next? / Do you want to work in academia? / Do you want to be a professor?

3) Why don't you like dancing?

4) Where will you settle? / I guess you don't want to stay in India, isn't it?

5) Why don't you eat beef?

6) Is it like this [insert some common stereotype] in India?

Actually, I now know one answer to this question. In his review of Dogville, Roger Ebert writes (about America)

All of these things are true, and all of these things are untrue. It's a big country, and it has a lot of different kinds of people.

I think this answer is good enough.

7) How can you not want to listen to songs all the time!

8) What type of robots are you building?

The answer begins with: "No. I'm not building robots for my PhD." But explaining what I really am working on puts most people who are not technically inclined to sleep.

---

Some of these, I am not sure if I can answer myself.

An evening...

Picture yourself at a great beach, with some of your closest friends. You know that you will not be here again for a long time. Even if you do end up there sometime later, it is almost impossible to have all of them in the same state as now.

Its evening, and the sand is warm from the heat of the day. It soothes your feet. Kinda like a warm foot massage. The sun is setting, but you don't see it. The beach looks out to the east. You remember that one time when you had camped somewhere close by, and had seen the sun rise over the ocean. All you want to do is lay down in the sand, look at the sky and talk.

And thats exactly what you do. The warm sand is one of the most comfortable things to lay on. You know that you are now closer to those around you. The details of the conversation will be forgotten soon. But it has got you back to the same terms with others as before. Maybe better.

As you walk back to your car, you start thinking of the things that you always promise to do. And the things that you did. You smile when you remember all the madness that went with it. You try to dismiss the things that you did not do as something that wasn't important anyway. You are in the car and on the road already. You notice fireworks. Perfect!

You notice the city skyline ahead in front of you. Its dark, and the buildings are lit. The bridges, piers, boats and signboards, all are lit for the night. It will be a long time before you go to this city again, at this time of the day. Its a great parting sight.

Graduation, and crossroads

Almost two years later, and I am 2 days away from graduation. These two years have probably been the most amazing of my life. I have changed a lot in many ways (weight being one) and have re-affirmed my ideas and beliefs in certain other things.

When I came here to the US in Fall 07, I knew only 3 other people well enough in the city. The fourth, was my future roommate, whom I had spoken to and met before in India. And the fifth was introduced by a common friend. Though, none of them is one my best friends. And I thought making good friends was difficult. Getting to know people and travelling within Florida is probably what I'll remember most about these two years. I had a TA in my first semester, which made me a reckless spender. And impulsive rent-car-to-go-to-some-random-place guy.

I probably have a keen sense of easy courses. All four of my semesters here have been light on course load. Only two courses were challenging enough. I found one of them simple, due a fortunate coincidence of having had a similar kind of professor in high school and because I have been kind of a nerd :P. The other was a subject I detest and do not understand (or the other way round - i do not understand and hence detest). Unfortunately, the professor who taught it at UF wasn't the best and I couldn't master this subject :(.

Working at Einstein Bagels has been another fun journey. I started working there because I had lost my funding. My hope always was that I would not need to work the "next" semester because I would get funding. Hasn't happened yet. Fall 08 was a terrible time though. My schedule clashed with my training for the Gate River Run with Gators for ASHA, and I worked really less. And my finances went for a toss. Work was also not fun then. But now, after almost 13 months here, its fun. I'm one of the guys who knows stuff :P.

The most interesting thing of this past year has been the Gate River Run. Its a 15km run in Jacksonville, and some volunteers of the Gators for ASHA group at UF run in it to raise awareness about their organization. I decided to run with them, and raise money, primarily for my fitness. I couldn't run more than 500m before and aiming for 15 km was something daunting. I wanted to aim for something high and achieve it. So starting October, Tuesdays and Thursday evenings were booked for the 3 mile runs. In order to do the long runs on Saturdays, I reduced my shifts at Einstein's. Tough decision, but I had decided my priorities. For some reason, I got also involved with the HSC and their staging of the Ramayana. It was supposed to be a musical, and I had initially volunteered to be the first-sage-that-gets-killed. But things happened, I got more involved and ended up being the Sound-tech guy. It was 3 nights of cobbled up songs from various movies and the internets that played during the show. :D It also got me some of the best friends I have in Gainesville- old friends got closer, and new great friends.

By January, I was broke, finished with research, had no courses to take for the last semester, finished with my Phd applications, had seen another TSF Gator Nights show (I had been watching most of the Gator nights' ones since probably November 07). In that particular show, they said that a new academy was being started and that anyone could join for free. :D This was my last sem, I had nothing to lose and had loads of free time. Tada!

I can never loosen up easily, especially when its a bunch of non-Indians. I get tongue-tied, hide in my shell, and so I did not get up to perform in the games for a long time. Probably for a 3-4 weeks. Also, my practice runs on Thursday gave me reasons to not go to the thursday jams. But one day, it finally hit me, that I wasn't making use of a good opportunity. So I first started going to the thursday jams after my run. I used to be there only for an hour, but a smaller group helped me start off. I remember my first performance was for 12 Hours of Improv and I was cast into Radio - a game I do not like because - I'm an introvert, I can't sing and I don't follow music much. But I guess people found this combination funny.

I haven't been involved with everything that TSF does, but it has come to influence my decisions. I'm about to graduate with my Master's degree and I plan to do Phd. A year ago, I wanted to get out of UF and go to a "better" school. Now I'm only waiting to hear from UPenn and INRIA. I basically rejected an offer from Stony Brook. The project and money was decent, but I dont think it matched the independence, comfort levels and general atmosphere that I have available here at UF. The chance for another Gate River Run, more TSF and Florida itself have biased me. :D

Though, if I do hear from INRIA, I will probably want to move to France. But I know I'll miss a tonne of stuff about UF.

Running

A few days back I was talking to Nitant and he said that he "absolutely loves to run". Given the fact that I had just done a 9 mile (15 km to be precise) run, I guess the answer expected out of me was the same.

However, I do not like to run. Probably, I hate it. But, I still did it. My reasons for doing that were hazy initially. And it wasn't until after the run and after the conversation with Nitant that I realised why it felt good to run (or good after running). I was reading some articles where one person had written, "Its not about beating a million other people by running faster, its about finishing what you started."

I don't think I can express that better. Running, to me, means a lot of boredom. And a lot of will power. That is why I don't like it. Just the same reason as to why I do it. Because, when I've done running, it feels awesome. Its a little tricky as why I would do it. But it makes me feel real good about myself. (Side note: it makes me healthier too!)

I have tried to do many things - math olympiad, iit jee, robotics projects, some events in college probably and my BE project. After each one was abandoned by me, unfinished, I felt horrible. I knew I could have done better, but I had given up. Either I had been too overconfident, tried something real hard, or just not attempted it because of "the competition" (and sometimes a combination of those reasons). The 9 mile run was the probably the first one that was challenging, and something that I had managed to finish.

Its a great feeling, and has helped me do other stuff. Improv comedy. If you don't know what that means, watch "Whose Line is it Anyway". Improvisation! It rocks. I need time to get going, but I think I can handle it. And its fun. So a couple of great things have happened in the last 4-5 months. Running and improv (in that order) are some of them. Others, I'll talk about them later. Much later.

Books, blogs.... heck... Reading!

Mom asked me whats happening to my reading. Books and all... I had no answer. I don't read much these days. Novels and books I mean. I prefer going online and reading articles. Or reading blogs. These days I prefer reading blogs. I think its easier to read about people who are living right now, and experiencing some interesting things in the present. And what they write, are their experiences.

I generally like fiction. But when reading blogs, I don't think of it as something non-fiction. Or as something that really happened in some country and affected a gazillion people, caused global catastrophe or an economic boom, or saved a country from disaster. Its about little events that I can relate to.

I went to the library today to get some novels to read. For an extremely stupid reason, I couldn't find any book I wanted. Even though I did not know which one I wanted. So, I used that reason, and just browsed through the DVD section. And got two movies.

I miss reading books and novels. I really want to get back to it. I wonder why I find it difficult to do so these days. :(