An Evening at JFK

I find it quite amusing. I haven’t been blogging much for a while, and here I am, writing my third post for the day (although, since this airport doesn’t have free wireless, it won’t be up on RFS until tomorrow). In my loneliness, I find writing soothing. It’s a way to get my emotions out, without having to resort to Facebook or Skype or MSN. It feels more human to do it this way, almost as if I’m writing in a diary – without the diary and the physical writing parts of course. As my friend Christina said, upon her return from Scotland, it feels as if my real life is actually the one taking place on social networks. My physical life in NYC, seems very distant and disconnected from what’s actually going on.

That being said, today was quite a good day. Apart from having barely slept last night, because I’m still a bit afraid to sleep with the lights out in my new apartment (reminds me of that song from Taare Zameen Par – main kabhii batlaataa nahiin. Par andheron se dartaa huun main maa.) and I can’t actually sleep with the lights on. Finally, at around 3am, exhausted but still fully awake, I got out of bed and turned them off. I was asleep within 5 minutes.

And then my alarm rang at 830am and - as is usually the case – I switched it off and dozed for a short while. After I finally got out of bed, I made myself my much-needed cup of tea (more like cups of tea this morning) and dashed off to the International Students’ office to make sure all my visa stuff was in order so I could fly back to Canada for the weekend. My grandmother passed away (inna lilaahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun) yesterday, so I’m flying back for the funeral ceremonies (hence the reference to the airport above). Anyway, I walked the forty blocks there and back (and experienced my first taste of the New Yorker accent along the way – as those of you who have read my earlier post will recollect) and then went home for lunch. After left-over Bangkok fried rice (so yummy!) and Rice Krispies (I had to finish my milk before I left and I didn’t want to drink it straight), I headed out again to the Staples another 20 blocks away. I hadn’t really explored the Staples end of my part of town, and so I was excited to get out and walk the 20 blocks.

So I turned on my iPod. Set it to my Coke Studio and Pakistani Rock playlist that I’ve been listening to constantly for the past few weeks (Noori. Oh,Em,Jee! And Kinara uff!!), put on my Ray Bans and, dressed for the occasion in my West-Coast Kits Beach clothing (Lululemon and Karma plus a t-shirt from my Alma Mater), I set off for the Staples. My attempt to explore wasn’t that fruitful actually – I was more interested in my music. Sigh. Good music will do that to you. I’m sure I got some pretty odd stares as I walked along, smiling at the brilliance of it all and probably (although I’m not sure) bobbing my head along to the music. And maybe singing. I dunno. I don’t remember.

Anyway, I got to the Staples and was happy because they had a massive sale! As a student without a source of income and flabbergasted by the amount tuition costs (although – one year for my Masters is less than a year as an undergrad at Harvard and my tuition will drop $10,000 per semester after this year), I love sales. *Massive Smile*

I got all my school supplies for the year (apart from 3 notebooks I’ll need next term and possibly binders) for 30 bucks – not including the mail-in rebates that will give me back around $10. Yay! (I feel like such a cheapo.)

Diversion RE: I feel like such a cheapo

I’m dressed quite well right now. In my nice jeans, nice flats – the purple Aldo ones I love, this white blazer-type jacket, a polo shirt and a vest. And I’m drinking Starbucks – even though their coffee sucks (but I don’t want to risk having worse coffee in this airplane lounge, so Starbucks it is). Anyway, so it feels weird talking – well writing – about being a cheapo when I don’t look like or feel like a cheapo. Oh – and I better explain why I’m dressed well too. So I’m taking my small suitcase instead of the carry-on so that I can bring my nice jacket from home that I had to leave behind because it wouldn’t fit in the suitcases I brought with me last week. I thought about wearing sweats, but that would mean putting my jacket and the other clothes I’m wearing in my suitcase, and that would give me less space to bring stuff from home.

Anyway, back to my story.

So yes, I bought my school supplies and thought of taking the subway back home. But then I went – hey, it’s a nice day. You need some exercise. It’s only 20 blocks and these bags aren’t that heavy are they? So I decided to walk. And it was decidedly harder than the walk to the Staples. Apart from the fact that part of the walk was uphill, the bags started really weighing down on me after about 10 blocks. By the time I got home, I was so tired (remember – I barely slept last night [you should see the bags underneath my eyes – Nabz during exam season would be proud]). But then I had to pack. So I couldn’t really relax and take a nap.

Next story.

I’m sitting at JFK, waiting for my flight. When my Pakistani cab driver (who apparently used to own an ice-cream factory with 287 employees and then lost it all after 9/11 because ‘something happened’, and who has 5 kids, all of whom are in Pakistan and either doctors or surgeons or heads of operations at some company – and then you wonder why he’s driving a taxi and wearing tattered clothes?) told me there were 9 terminals here, I was astounded and got really excited about being at the crossroads of humanity (clichéd…I know…don’t shake your head at me) and seeing people from all over the world inside. One thing I remember so well is the first (and really the only time) I spent some time at Heathrow (on my way to Kenya). It was so cool because there were all these people from different parts of this world. I remember this Shi’a mullah quite distinctly – I found him fascinating. I need to go to the East. I really do. *lament*

Anyway. But I feel like I’m sitting in Vancouver – without the pretty airport. This place is packed with Chinese people (although that’s probably because the flight I’m on is heading to Hong Kong and is just stopping over in Vancouver). Dammit. My phone rang and I lost my train of thought.

Maybe it’s a sign. I’m nearing the end of two pages on Word (like I said, I don’t have internet access here) and should probably wrap up. I know this post was random. But I felt like writing, so bear with it.

I’m excited to go home. Even though it’s for a sad occasion. I’ll get to meet my bff after 9 months and a bunch of other people I haven’t seen for quite some time. 1.5 hours until the flight departs. Sigh. I’m going to start Gandhi’s autobiography – given that I’m taking a course on his political views.
I love MEALAC

I love school

Wow. I’m such a nerd. :D

PS – I still haven’t gotten around to finding out how to meet Rushdie. Note to self – do it ASAP.

Maximum City - Sort Of

Maximum City is a book I've always loved and found fascinating. Having only been to Bombay once, I feel as if it's my own little window into the magic and mayhem of that city.

There's a segment in that book, that's always stayed in my mind - the one where he talks about living by the water, in an apartment, and leaving the windows open - and how all sorts of junk (including a wet diaper - yuck!) and dust fly into his house.

Now. I always thought he was exaggerating a bit, until I cleaned my own apartment, overlooking water, after having kept the window open for about 30 minutes. Although no stray diapers found their way onto my floor, the amount of dirt that came in within those 30 minutes was amazing. The pan I use to grab all the dirt was full (it's one of those small hand-held ones), and I'm still feeling the effects of all that dust and dirt in my nose...

Anyway. Sorry Suketu. You were right.

Noo Yawk

I had my first experience of the New Yorker accent today - and it was semi-embarassing. I felt like such an idiot. Here I am, a languages major and lover of accents, and I can't figure the hell out what this guy is saying! I don't have a garbage for the kitchen - and have been using a plastic bag (tied tightly of course) for the past few days. Thankfully, my only real stinkable food products right now are the ends of the french beans I made two nights ago. Imagine if I ate meat - wow, my room would've stank!

Anyway, so back to this story. Right, garbage can. So I went into this home appliances store close to campus to get this garbage can, didn't have enough cash and so decided to use my debit card. It got declined (because apparently the ATM machine didn't activate it properly), and so the guy tried telling me it got declined. I heard: 'swipe the card again,' 'the card', 'declared', and everything else except 'declined.' Finally, this lady with a non-New Yorker accent had to explain to me that the guy was saying the card had been declined. Felt like an idiot. I can understand the heaviest of Chinese accents (a product of growing up where I grew up), but not New Yorker accents.

And that's a lesson for all you folks. Sometimes the things that should be closest to you are actually the farthest away.

The Day the World Changed

A couple days ago, as I was walking down some random street near Times Square, I was reminded by my sister that I'd be in NYC during September 11th. Even though 9/11 has affected my life in ways that I cannot even begin to describe, the date itself hasn't had as significant an impact on me as others. Usually, when I wake up on 9/11, my first reaction is "GIVE ME TEA" and then "Crap I'm late for school", and as I'm heading to campus on the bus, I suddenly realize it's 9/11. Then I think about whatever's happened since, swear at le bush a couple of times for the havoc he's created in Afghanistan and Iraq and Pakistan, shake my fist at Bin Laden, and return to my music on my iPod.

Anyway. This year will be interesting. I was surprisingly emotional when I went to the site of 9/11 for the first time, so not sure what this year's reaction will be. Will keep ya'll posted.

Now. Back to my TomYum yummy soup.

Apologies...

For not having written in a while. I'm in the midst of moving myself and my possessions to NYC and of starting a completely new life. The past week and a bit has been spent saying goodbye (not alvida/goodbye...the other see-you-soon type) to my near and dear (in both spatial and emotional terms), packing my life into 1.5 suitcases, spending two hours on a tarmac waiting for remnants of Hurricane Bill to pass through the East Coast (then giving up and walking off a cancelled flight), arriving in the centre of the world at 830am and crashing almost in the middle of Times Square, finalizing an apartment, buying furniture and whatever else one needs for a home (from toilet paper to desk tops), shopping along 5th Avenue (not advisable unless you want to be stuck in a tourist trap or have enough money to shut down the boutiques for yourself - just go to the other Burberry or Abercrombie stores in town), and taking hundreds of pictures at the M&M store. Tomorrow is my first orientation! Things should settle down over the next few days, and I'll be back to talk (well write) about this city.

Also on the plate: wandering around, taking pictures.

ps: Rushdie's here...in the city that is...

Seriously??

"Dating the Ethnic Man: Strategies for Success – New!
Multicultural relationships are increasingly common despite the challenges involved. If you’re a woman considering a relationship with an ethnic man, this insightful course will enlighten you to the influences that religion, family obligations and peer pressure may have on your partner’s ability to fully commit to you. Through practical advice and case studies, you’ll learn how to address and embrace cultural differences, while enriching your experiences of life and each other. Questions for contemplation and an in-depth compatibility test provide additional insights into the ethnic man’s values, sexual matters and emotional conflicts."

Seriously!!?!?!! And this too at a newly-accredited university (I still call it a college - yes, I'm an education snob) in my home province. Ooh - I want to date a brown guy - let's examine some case studies. Idiots. The only case studies worth examining are your own past relationships. And how do you LEARN to embrace cultural differences? You either do or you don't - simple.

Also - what are an 'ethnic man's values'. All you men of colour, along with those men who don't have colour but are still considered 'ethnic' in North America (shout out to the Mexicans, Brazilians [yes - I know not all of you are 'white' - sorry, for lack of a better term], Russians etc) - stay away from people who take this course. Seriously...If they think you're worth it, they'll ask you the questions, instead of some random 'expert' on 'ethnic men'.

Sheesh

Of Guitars, Wrists and Freedom

I've never strung a guitar. Even though I've had one since I was 5, and two (1+1 of course) since I was 19. Neither have ever demanded new strings, so I've never bothered. The violin though - because I played it so often (but not enough for my violin teacher(s) to love me more than their other students) - needed changes every now and then. I feel like comparing this to a baby needing a diaper change - but that would be disrespectful to Gligz (my violin - I name things) and doesn't really fit as a comparison. I won't go into details about why it doesn't fit - you should be able to figure that out.

Anyway, so back to the guitar. The one that I acquired (it used to be my father's - I appropriated it once I discovered the beautifulness that is Asturias) when I was 19 was last strung before I was born - so around 25 years ago. It's a beautiful guitar with a very deep tone that reminds me of hazelnut chocolate spread (i.e. Nutella - the European type that's not as sweet as the stuff we get here). Unfortunately, or fortunately, one of the strings broke a couple days ago and, because I enjoy playing this particular guitar more than my other one and because dad's work is across the road from a guitar store, I asked dad to buy a set of strings.

Last night, I decided to restring the wooden beauty and figured that it would be as easy as stringing a violin. I was wrong. It was much more difficult and tedious. Anyway, it ended up taking me almost 2 hours to get all the strings off and the new ones on (mostly because I'm really picky about where the string is sitting on the peg and how it looks) and a lot of that time was spent in winding the pegs. Thinking that my wrist (which underwent surgery a couple years ago and hasn't actually fully recovered) would be fine, I didn't bother taping it up or being 'careful.' Now - I'm in dire pain, and my hand is swollen - but - the stringing turned out well. And because my wrist was due for a bout of pain (the last one was during exams in April), I don't really mind having to go through it. At least - my guitar looks pretty and shiny with its brand new, silver strings. I still need to tune it though - spent today drinking tea, getting my hair cut and realizing that I'm actually quoteable. Oh - and had a massive tete-a-tete (dammit - there aren't any diacritical marks) with BKscope about PhDs and whether or not to pursue a three-year PhD or a three-year joint MIA/MPA and MBA. Hmm. Questions...questions...questions.

Answers? None yet. Maybe within the next few months as I get settled into Said-land (Edward - not the past form of 'to say').

And to all the South Asians out there. Happy Independence Day(s). 'S' in brackets for those who celebrate both - like me.