Middle-men ecosystem

In India, one thing I quickly found out is that the ecosystem is built in such a way that unless you do your own thing, you will be bleeding money. Take visa applications for example. All my life, I have done my own visa applications (and I have done it many times, thanks to my foreign student/worker status as well as my love for travel). US visa applications from Kolkata are easy. I have driven to Washington DC at 4 am to reach the German consulate on time. I have driven all day to apply for a German visa in Chicago, struggling with finding parking more than driving. I have traveled for 8 hours in a bus to go to Berlin for a US visa. Long story short, I am used to spending a lot of time to get a visa.

Back in India, I have an upcoming conference in Canada and need to apply for a visa. The travel agent my employer hires assures me that they will take care of everything. That, they do. They do the paperwork and get me appointment dates. They compile the application together, book me a car, and come to my office to give me my file. All this looks great on paper. But here is the catch!

I don’t need a car, I can take an Ola/Uber. Yet, they hire a car for 4 hours that will wait till I submit my visa paperwork and bring me back on campus. It roughly costs 1,500 INR. I could have taken a cab for less than 150 INR round trip. But they do not let me do that.

They tell me that “their man will be waiting in front of the Canada consulate.” I am still not clear what the role of this man was. All he did is take the stairs with me to the second floor office, hold my bag (although I asked him not to), and wait for a few hours till I came back. Yes, I needed a photocopy in the meantime, which I could have totally done on my own. I ask him to go home but he assures me that his travel agent office is next door and he is happy to wait. Till date, I still don’t know what his job was, but he would have taken a commission in the process.

And yes, he put me in some premium waiting lounge without asking me. All that premium lounge does is seclude you from the suffering of the common man. While everyone waits in the common area, only six people get to wait in a special room. They ask you for tea and coffee, which I never needed anyway. They have a bowl of unhealthy chocolates and cookies in front of you to munch on. They assure you with bold letters on that application you signed that up to six sheets of photocopy is free for people in the premier lounge. How much does 6 pages of photocopying need? I am used to carrying 2 extra copies of all documents anyway. I still had to wait there for 2 hours. The man whose role I did not know assured me that I would have had to wait for five hours otherwise. I was half ready to stay there for a few more hours and see if his claims were true. Oh, and they charged me 2,000+ INR for access to the premier lounge I never wanted in the first place.

You might be wondering what a miserly, complaining woman I am. Yes, I am careful about my money, that money came from my grant and I have a limited budget. The visa itself cost me 14,000 INR, but with a car and a middle-man and a premier lounge, I will be shelling close to 5k INR more in my estimate. I watch my money like a hawk, and I am proud of it. And other than money, I also have problems with the lack of transparency. The travel agent I worked with never told me about these add-ons and the amount I have to shell out in the process. If you are not careful, you end up wasting a lot of money. The ecosystem is built in such a way that there will be a middle-man at every node asking for money.

It has been a sharp learning curve for me the past 6 weeks. Surviving and thriving in India takes a different mindset. I am very happy that I am back for many reasons. But I have quickly learned to get my alert radar very active. Every person I do business with, I clearly ask them how much money they will charge and how many people will be getting a share of that money. Talking about money is somewhat of a taboo in our culture, but screw all that. I have quickly learned to unlearn a lot of my prior programming. I know that if I have to survive here for the next 30-35 years, I will be encountering a lot of middle-men after my money. The only way I can deal with it is by keeping my alert radar at high levels all the time and doing as much of my paperwork as I can on my own.

PS: On a different note, I am considering moving away from blogging. I have found other platforms on social media that are way more interactive. The only reason I keep writing here is sheer nostalgia for having owned this space for 13 years now. I started blogging way before I knew of Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter or Instagram. Now, I have found all those platforms and no longer know what I am doing here.

sunshine

Country Rap

Have you noticed how Bengali expats who congregate with other Bengali expats at the airport and bond while bitching about how India will never improve usually share certain common attributes?

One, they usually wear GAP or Nike clothing.

Two, the farther they get from the US (or the closer they get to India), the louder their rants get. They might not be as vocal in Houston or Seattle but will be very loud in Dubai. Perhaps the humid Dubai air makes them realize that shit is about to get real in a few hours.

Three, the rants are always, always in English. Ninde korar belaye accent diye Ingriji.

Based on what people say, it is easy to predict who is who.

"Ayi saala suorer bachcha plane ta deri koralo" -- A Bengali from India.

"Can't believe nothing runs on time. It's always sooo hard to get things done in India. This country will never improve" -- naak oonchoo expat whose patriotism is confined to missing and discussing aam jaam lichu tyangra lyangra on Facebook but dreads every moment of their trip to India. 

A curious spectator (sunshine).

Week 4: Giving up something comfortable

Also read other posts with the label 52 small changes

For five years in the US, I not only drove, but also immensely enjoyed it. I never saw it as a chore, something to be afraid of. I gladly gave free airport rides early in the morning. I would drive from Lincoln to Omaha to get some mutton biryani in a jiffy. I needed no nudging for long road trips, and most of them, I did singly. I drove anywhere between 300-500 miles (one-way) during long weekends, visiting places like the Niagara Falls, New York City, and Princeton during my stint on the east coast (that later became my PhD). Before I left for Germany, I had embarked on a 22-day long road trip that lasted roughly 8,000 miles, driving from Nebraska to Houston (to renew my passport), continuing to Chicago (to get a work visa) before visiting Washington, DC to say goodbye to close friends and finally getting back to Seattle where I sold my car. If I did not run out of time with my driver license, I would have continued my road trip (driver licenses expire with visa expiry).

Things changed when I left for Germany, forcing me to rewire my brain. I could no longer afford to keep a car for various reasons (including not wanting to understand road signs in German). As if on cue, I also discovered the joys of efficient and reliable public transportation in Germany. I took trains all over Europe, all the way to Denmark and Sweden in the north and Slovakia in the south. Where trains did not go, buses and airplanes did. I walked too. It was the best healing experience after being forced to sell my car and give up my driving license when I left the US.

After two years, I moved back to the US. I live in a mid-size city now with a population of about 0.2 million people. Unless you live in a big city like New York City or Chicago, most of the US has bad public transportation. I was prepared to go back to my old ways of being. I thought that I would buy a car, get a driving license, and in no time, I would be driving once again to the mountains, to the nearby cities and quaint little towns.

But in these two years, I had changed. I no longer wanted to go back to my old ways of living, especially after I had completely weaned myself off it. Although I got myself a driving license, I did not want to buy a car unless I absolutely needed it. My wish must have been heartfelt, for things evolved in a way that worked out for me.

On day one at work, I was given a bus pass that would let me ride any bus within the city for free. Next, I realized that the home I had chosen was very close to a bus stop. Then, I realized that the only bus in front of my apartment took me directly from home to work. I saw that as a sign from the universe. I decided to hold off on buying a car for as long as I could. It’s been 18 months now, and I haven’t regretted one day of it.

Why I prefer life without a car?

·       It saves me a lot of money (in buying and maintaining a car). Fuel. Insurance. Parking. Repair. Routine maintenance. Tabs and taxes. Leisure trips. It all adds up.

·       No parking expenses and speeding tickets.

·       No more whimsical trips. I used to do them a lot before, mostly to meet people who are not active in my life anymore anyway.

·       I walk more and make healthier life choices. Sometimes, I walk partially to work till I get tired and then hop on a bus.

·       Riding the bus is a social experience. I get to meet and talk to a lot of people. I have some bus buddies too, and some of the drivers know me now.

·       I manage my time better (since the buses run once every 30 minutes during the day, and once every hour in the evenings). I don’t waste time at work doing random things like spending time on social media. When I am at work, I work.

·        I don’t have to show up to places I don’t want to. It’s much easier to say no to people when you do not have a car.

·       I buy only what I need and what I can carry with me, resulting in less clutter at home. My fridge has never looked better. My grocery has never looked healthier. Often, unhealthy food choices are also heavier to carry, like sweetened beverages. The grocery store is right next to my bus stop. Not only do I get free transportation to work, I get quick access to food too.  

·       I get to take the Amtrak train more often and love the experience.

·       I drink less coffee and do not make sugar-craving induced, impulsive trips to expensive coffee shops anymore.

·       I consciously live in a lovely neighborhood where I can walk to nearby parks. It is a very pretty neighborhood, great for both my physical and mental health.

·       I look at the weather website more often. I ask for directions. I look at maps to figure things out. I carry my umbrella with me now. I take slightly different routes sometimes to get to know the city better. I plan my time and my life better now.

·       I don’t go on impulsive trips to the shopping mall anymore. I use that time to pursue hobbies like reading and writing.

·       I sometimes read on the bus.

·       I use all the time and money I save to spend more time with my family in Kolkata, and also continue my world travels to different countries. My local and domestic (within the US) travels have drastically reduced now.

Challenges of not owning a car

·       It gets pretty cold and icy in winter. They do not always clean the sidewalks properly. Walking on icy sidewalks is dangerous.

·       Sometimes, I have to work until late and buses run infrequently. If I do not want to wait for another 45 minutes to take the bus, I have to take a cab.

·       I don’t get to pursue photography as much, since I am mostly restricted to taking pictures of places I could only walk or take a bus to. No more impulsive sunrise photography trips.

Clearly, my benefits outweigh my costs. Plus, I have a license, I can always rent a car (I have only done it once during the past 18 months). More importantly, I get to experience the thrill of doing something differently and making conscious life choices. For those who think that your lifestyle dictates whether or not you need a car, maybe your need for a car also dictates your lifestyle choices. I know it because I have lived both the lives now. When I had a car, I did a lot of random things, justifying that I can do it since I have a car. The day I absolutely need one, I will go ahead and buy it. Until then, I look forward to all the new life experiences borne out of not having a car.

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Small changes make big differences

I recently came across an ordinary book with an extraordinary message. In the book, 52 Small Changes: One Year to a Happier, Healthier You, author Brett Blumenthal talks about one small but mindful change we can incorporate into our lives every week. The list provided was nothing extraordinary, drink water, sleep more, set time aside as alone-time, eat your vegetables, and so on. Theoretically, we know most of these things, whether we practice it or not is a different story. However, I loved the underlying concept in the book. The reason most of us are not able to hold on to our new year resolutions beyond the first two weeks of January and, for example, end up gaining more weight and losing more confidence, is because the changes we make are erratic, and unsustainable. Extremism rarely works and one big change is a result of many smaller changes.

I want to do a “52 small changes” project (I will not call it a challenge) and incorporate changes based on what I want out of my life. And I will make my own list as I go along. I will also try to write about it once a week. Accountability to others (and self) make a difference, and I will love it if you participate too, make your own list of changes you incorporate every week, and tag me (or write a comment or email or use the “contact form” on the upper right hand side of the blog page) to let me know what you are doing. I will not hold a gun to my forehead or beat myself up if, for any reason, I am not able to follow my plans during a particular week (and I hope you do the same). Treating myself with kindness is the precursor to anything I do in life. Sounds like a plan?

What are my big five goals for the next five years? Gaining health (physical, mental, and spiritual). Obtaining tenure. Investing in a home. Obtaining permanent residence. I see that I have four, and not five long-term goals at the moment, which is even better. However, none of these can be achieved overnight. For gaining health, I have to watch what I eat and drink, how much I move myself, what I do with my time and how much drama I allow myself to engage in. For obtaining tenure, I have to publish papers, obtain grants, and at an even smaller level, understand academic writing and money management. For permanent residence, I have to publish as well, so the smaller steps for obtaining permanent residence and obtaining tenure have overlaps. For a house, I have to research about what is available, what do I want, and how can I save better. I can already see that the four bigger goals have provided me with a list of more than twenty medium-sized goals that will easily culminate into more than 52 smaller changes over the next year. So looks like I am all set. I already practice some of the smaller changes that matter to me, but I will share them on a weekly basis nevertheless. And my biggest commitment for this initiative would be to make at least one blog entry every week, talking about what small change I adopted and how I have been doing. I know that there are weeks when I will be traveling or working on deadlines, and I will not be hard on myself if I am not able to keep up. But I will try.

I wonder if the wheels in your brain are rolling too, and what small, sustainable changes you think you can incorporate in your life. I would love it if you participated and shared your list as well as experiences. Please feel free to share your thoughts and ideas. 

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The best experience of 2017

New year is a time of checks and balances. Planning for the year ahead while reflecting on memories from the past year. Earlier today, I was wondering what is the best thing that has happened to me in 2017. There are many good things, but if I had to choose one, I would pick traveling with my father for the first time.  

Traveling together did much more than show us the sights of South Asia. It undid the parent-child relationship that often manifests as worrying, obsessing or controlling long after the child has grown up and no longer needs parenting. That parents do not have to parent all their lives is a concept many do not understand. Traveling together unshackled those chains and made us equal. We were two adults, both with almost no prior exposure to traveling in South Asia, traveling together for the first time. We figured things out together, we figured out maps and meals, we negotiated our way without knowing the native language, we figured out visas and new currencies, and we picked a travel pace that is comfortable to both of us (My father is sometimes too full of energy, too restless, too eager to see everything while I enjoy sitting at a spot and taking in things more). He made dinner for me every night and I cooked breakfast for him every day. There were no assumed gender roles or parental roles. And that was the best thing this trip did to us.

Ever since we broke out of the parent-child care-giving chains, we have become closer. We talk more on the phone, and those are long, engaging conversations about our individual life aspiration and goals, and not the usual script of lists and directions like "Eat on time and don't catch a cold." I have learnt things about his childhood I did not know, and he discovered aspects of me not known to him. For example, I could clearly see the discomfort on his face when I bought a handful of fried grasshoppers (he is vegetarian and has only seen me eat chicken and mutton), but he did not stop me or preach me. Ever since the trip, he has resumed painting after years, I have gone back to learning a language, and we often exchange what he recently painted or what words I recently learnt. He was the cultural secretary of the Durga Pujo committee in our neighborhood this year and shared pictures of all the cultural events he organized with pride while I shared pictures of my talks at conferences. And there is no more " সাবধানে থাকিস " or "Be careful, live carefully" at the end of the conversation. Only, "talk to you next week" and "Where shall we go for our next trip?"

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Twenty things I will remember from 2017

1.    I got my first competitive research grant here. I started my first research study as principal investigator.

2.    I traveled (only) with dad for the first time. We went to Cambodia. We went to Thailand.

3.    In Nepal, I took a mountain flight to see Mount Everest up close.

4.    I got a summer position at TIFR, my first significant gainful employment in India. I taught my first graduate-level course there.

5.    My first Airbnb experience. This was in San Antonio. Ever since, I have become an Airbnb fan.

6.    My first time editing a book that got published this summer.

7.    I was hospitalized for peripheral vertigo. I also had dental surgery the day Trump assumed presidency. And this year, my lower back pain came back with full violence.

8.    I attended and presented at my first medical conference.

9.    I spent another year without driving.

10.I also touched the waters of the Arabian Sea for the first time.

11.I taught my first graduate-level course this spring.

12.My late-grandfather would have turned hundred this year.

13.My parents attend my public talk for the first time.

14.I installed a name plate outside my office in my mother tongue.

15.I gave my first talk at the American Center.

16.I went to watch exactly one movie at the theater (Murder on the Orient Express) and slept through most of it.

17.I started learning Urdu. On and off.

18.I went to my first American Thanksgiving dinner.

19.I packed all my things into suitcases, put them in my office, gave up my rental apartment and went off to spend a few months of summer traveling.

20.I got my first award after the name of a Bengali scholar. My CV got its first Bengali name (other than mine).

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Being faculty: End of year one

This week, I completed one year of being faculty. Exactly one year ago, I had moved back to the US and landed here. My landlady, whom I had never seen before, had come to pick me up. This time, I celebrated my first anniversary with a goat that lay on my dinner plate as mutton biryani. That is one thing I will never grow tired of eating.

So what does faculty life mean to me after one year? It means no longer being able to play the "I am a new faculty and I don't know what I am doing" card. To say that time flew would be an understatement. Talking of time, I was reading about the research on biological clock that won the Nobel Prize in Medicine this year. Other than conceiving time as what we know, the lifespan clock and the biological clock, I have also come to understand what the pre-tenure clock means. I could fill an entire book with my thoughts and realizations of life as a faculty, perhaps some day post-tenure.

New currency

I have learnt many new things over the past year. Some of them were skills and the others, deep realizations. However, if I had to point to that one thing that has been my most important learning this past year, it is the concept of currency. We are used to thinking of money as currency.  But for the first time, I learnt that time and energy (and not money) are my new currencies. Time is non-renewable and it surely depletes fast. As a student, I spent a lot of time trying to earn some money. Now, I will happily spend money to earn time, which is what all the grant writing and making graduate students do the work is about. It also means learning money management. I protect my research money much more fiercely than my personal money. I am always bargaining and looking for better deals to buy stuff for my research group. I could not even bargain a pair of earrings for ten rupees less.

The power of “No”

I have mastered the habit of saying no. No, I cannot be a part of this committee, it will take away my research time. No, I cannot visit Seattle this month, I have a conference deadline. No, you cannot visit me either, because of the same deadline. No, I cannot attend this potluck or cook for twenty people, and no, I cannot go on a dinner date, no, not even coffee. I use my work as a shield to bail out of a lot of things I do not want to do. If you plot time versus "no", I think I have said no maximum number of times this past year.

Weird moments

Being faculty to me also means sometimes hearing, "How far in your PhD are you?" And I don't think it has anything to do with my youthful looks (or the lack of it, especially given the crop of grey hair I sport now). It comes from something called unconscious bias where women (especially minority women) are usually designated stereotypical roles with less power. Male doctor, female patient. Male professor, female student. Rich guy, poor girl. Older guy, younger girl. Such stereotypes not only penetrate, but also deeply cut through reality to make up fairy tale stories and Harlequin romances.

Being faculty also means getting some very strange emails sometimes. So far, I saw random strangers emailing me their GRE scores and asking what they should study and what university they should apply to. However, I recently got an email from a complete stranger asking to be my friend (with a few smileys following) and wanting to know how to get a faculty position and to also help their spouse figure out how to do their PhD and what prospects await the spouse after their PhD. Complete strangers from completely strange fields asking me strange questions. I was tempted to ask if their children also needed help looking for schools and while doing so, if I could also visit their home to help them fold the laundry.

What else?

It means looking at a potentially interesting guy and thinking, "Hmm... I wonder what his h-index and his citation number is." It means little joys like free textbooks (ask the publisher and they will send you a copy) and free bus rides. It means three months of freedom every year to go and work in any part of the world I want to. It also means "technically" not having to show up at work unless I have a class or meeting. It is an unthinkable idea to many working in other industries. I could show up to work every day at 3 pm and no one would care.

And it means sometimes hearing, "Oh, you are at this university? What does your husband do there?" (The assumption being that my fictitious husband is a faculty, not me, I might be a trailing spouse). It also means being asked "What do you teach?" all the time. Not all faculty teach, and not all the time. Teaching is less than 50% of my job. I have only taught one course so far.

But all this aside, one of the best things about being faculty is being able to chat with some very smart people. Only today, I chatted for an hour each with a space researcher who works on galaxies, a cancer researcher, and a NASA scientist.

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Initial impressions of Bangkok

1. Visa: If you do not do your visa from India, it could be a very time-consuming process in Thailand. The same visa is valid for 30 days in India but 15 days in Thailand. Always carry passport-size photos to avoid the hassle of getting new pictures. You have to show 10,000 Baht/person or 20,000 Baht/family to get a visa. That is a ripoff if you are staying only for a few days, because you may not end up using all of it by the time you leave. I took a chance and converted only half that amount. No one even checked it. They only ask you to convert a certain amount of money, but may not even care to see if you followed instruction.

2. The city: Bangkok is very clean, organized, crowded, and not as polluted. Public restrooms are very clean. With wide, multi-lane roads, Bangkok looks like a cleaner and more developed version of southern Kolkata. The river provides an important means of transportation for both tourists as well as daily commuters. I did not see a single beggar or homeless person.

3. At 500 Baht/person, the Grand Palace is a ripoff (given that other attractions are between 50-100 Baht).

4. Bangkok is a food lover's paradise. Street food is out of the world. And Thai food in Thailand is so much better than Thai food in the US.

5. People speak minimal English. Thailand was never invaded by the Europeans, and you can see it. Everything is written in Thai, with occasional translations in English. It makes you realize that one does not need to rely on English to be self-reliant or attract tourists. Far from being a challenge, it was very refreshing to be somewhere where people are unapologetic about not knowing English. When spoken English did not work, I mostly used sign language. Our host wrote down the addresses of major attractions (as well as our home address) on a piece of paper in Thai. We met many cab drivers who could not even read or interpret addresses written in English. That was another interesting experience. We navigated solely based on the squiggles written on a piece of paper that we did not understand.

6. Every third shop is a massage shop. The one before that is a shop selling food.

7. The world in this part of the world does not revolve around Trump, Ivanka, Melania's heels and wardrobe, and US politics. Living outside this toxic circle of US politics for a change was very calming. I did not follow news for a while, and the world was still fine and running by the time I came back.

8. You get to a point where you are tired of seeing Buddha statues. Standing Buddha. Sitting Buddha. Reclining Buddha. Laughing Buddha. Serious Buddha. Solid gold Buddha. Youngish Buddha. Oldish Buddha. Jumping Buddha. Swimming Buddha.

9. Things around are written mostly in Thai (including advertisements). Road signs are written both in Thai and English. Thai first. English below, and in a smaller font. I developed immense respect for this country. Not because I hate English (I don't hate anything except half-cooked or poached eggs). It is truly a mark of a country that has a strong sense of identity, not swayed by foreign identities. I don't think I have seen another country where English is in a smaller font in road signs. If you have seen one, I'd love to hear from you.

10. If you are hopping multiple countries, I would highly recommend you buy your tickets on the same PNR. If possible, but your tickets directly from the airline instead of some travel website. It might seem more expensive, but it actually saves you a lot of money and hassles. We were in Thailand, and then Cambodia. While coming back from Cambodia, we had a six hour layover in Bangkok. We thought that we would wait at the airport. What I did not see is that our tickets had different PNRs. Long story short, they do not let you wait at the airport for that long without a tourist visa (even if you are not planning to step out of the airport). They will not check your bags all the way to Kolkata (in our case). So we had to step out, spend money and get a visa although we only had a few hours and were not planning to step out of the airport. The visa from the previous trip the week before was valid for 15 days, but was single entry only. The system is built so that there are traps where vulnerable tourists can be easily tricked into spending money unnecessarily. I guess that is also how they generate some of their revenue. Long story short, if hopping multiple countries, buy your tickets directly from the airline, and make sure that every leg of the trip is on the same PNR.

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Being faculty: End of semester one

I wrote this post the last week of my first semester as faculty. Well, it was technically half a semester since I got in late. Ten weeks of faculty-hood was like getting on a roller coaster ride that I mistakenly thought was an innocuous rickshaw ride by the park. I have journalled well, scribbling down the many little experiences that shocked, surprised, and shocked me again. Don't know about grey matter, but grey hair increased exponentially as I was asked to analyze the many grey areas in my research. Here are ten random scribbles:

1. By the end of week one, I woke up to the realization that time, and not money, is my new currency. Being faculty means wrapping my head around so many things in many different directions, I now understand why the term "protected time" exists in the research world.

2. There were numerous moments when I was deeply engrossed trying to make sense of a problem, only to think, "Shit! I cannot make sense of this, I need to talk to my adviser," only to realize that there is no adviser. I am the adviser. The voices in my head often tell me, "Stop thinking like a grad student!" In the garb of a confident tenure-track faculty member, I still feel like a confused grad student inside.

3. Almost every time someone heard what my job is, they asked me what I teach. Well, I do not teach. However, I will be, from January. The professor in me says, "This is exciting, let's bring it on!" The grad student in me says, "Shit! What did I get myself into?" After doing mostly qualitative research, I am now developing a survey course. I thought this is some kind of a cosmic joke from the universe. For the past few weeks, I have been brushing the cobwebs off my statistical knowledge about factor analysis, IRT, and other stuff I learnt way back in grad school and swore never to use again. Well, never say never. Writing the syllabus alone took me three full days of effort. This will be my first time teaching at a university, and as excited as I am trying to be, I am terrified inside.

4. A big part of being faculty means making things up on the fly. Barring some exceptionally interesting talks, I zone out in most talks and start thinking about other things. I was attending a seminar when someone asked me, "Blah blah blah ... so what do you think of it?" Not only did I not know what to think of it, I was not even paying attention. All I can say is that with practice, you get good at making things up on the fly.

5. It was funny when multiple people mistook me for a grad student. Just the way a grad student addressed me as the professor, and I looked away, thinking that she was calling someone else. This new role that I have assumed will need some getting used to.

6. My mother beams with pride that I am now a state employee. No one in my family is one, and where I come from, there is a lot of prestige associated with being a government employee. She doesn't get it that that state government and this state government is not quite the same. However, her excitement is infectious.

7. Being a new faculty is a lot like being newly married. You are the star of the new family, everyone is excited to have you around. It also means reproduction is one of the key traditional expectations to survive this marriage. Producing viable grants and papers is mandatory. Very soon, older colleagues will be dropping by and throwing known glances at my tummy (an analogy), asking when I would start churning out those academic babies. I have a committee that makes sure that I do not deviate from this (re)productive track. I write annual reviews based on my performance. This contract even comes with a time limit of six years. These ten weeks were spent looking for collaborators who would be willing to father my academic babies. That's something about academia- the more partners and collaborators you can find, the more viable seeds you are likely to sow, the more babies you are likely to produce, and the more your chances will be of making tenure. Academia is very polyamorous that way.

8. I have re-discovered the importance of sleep. If I am not well-rested, I am most likely going to be useless the next day. So while most people roughly my age are partying around, I get in bed by 9 pm, read for a few hours and drift off to sleep. Some people ask me what are my weekend plans. "Read, write, continue loop," is what I say.

9. No one cares what time you come to work or leave work. It's a strange feeling I am still getting used to.

10. A lot of what I do everyday has got nothing to do with being a professor. It involves replying to countless emails. Organizing meetings. Getting in groups and talking about things I have no idea about. Learning to order a dry erase board or filling out a gazillion forms after a trip, asking for reimbursement. Showing up at large gatherings and networking events when the introvert in me would much rather be at home. Remembering the names and faces of a million people you have never seen before, and be able to tag the correct name to the correct face. Everything that I had the luxury to avoid as a grad student- public speaking, large-scale data crunching, teaching stats, attending meetings, avoiding the spotlight, I will be doing it all now. All of it.

sunshine

Budding romances

New addresses are like budding romances. There is the thrill and excitement of knowing a new city, its many hidden gems and secret nooks. Every day is a surprise, an exploration, a new page of a diary, a brand new chapter of a book. The thrill of discovering a restaurant serving your favorite cuisine. Or a cozy little coffee shop inside a quaint mall with your favorite corner, a little obscure, to sit and read in anonymity. A lesser known road lined with colorful trees. New sights of the changing seasons. Of streets never walked before, and houses never seen before. New smells and things that feel different under the skin. Who knows where this road leads to, and what stories lay in the nooks and corners of these buildings? The sun is the same, but the sunshine seems different, falling on unknown objects and making them glow like new. Like a snow-capped mountain or lavender field that gets you all excited while blasé drivers zoom past without stopping. As I walk back home every day, taking a different road every time, every new house excites me. I see little Christmas lights glowing inside, newly decorated trees, and wonder who lives here, what their stories are. Relationships are the same. They come with the excitement of the unknown, the smell of a new book, the newness of a spring flower. The world is out there for you, waiting to get explored, and discovered. Even the sparkle in the eyes thrills you, because it is new for you. That is how this city feels like right now.

With time, some romances fade, and others turn into love. When the dust of the newness has settled, it leaves behind the comfort of predictability. Knowing all the roads and where they lead to, where they start and where they end. Knowing every little restaurant and every little garden. Knowing exactly where to take the guests. And what roads to avoid during game day. Like living with the same person for 20, 50 years, and waking with them every morning, holding hands and feeling the same love every single day as you take a walk. Romance changes to love, and the excitement of the unknown to the comfort of the known. Because what you created in between is shared history, shared memories. Memories that are unique, like carrying a piece of their DNA in your heart. The city's. The person's. Calling someone and already knowing how they say, "Hello?" on the phone. Or respond when you call out their name in a crowd. On nights that I am working late and all is quiet outside, I can hear the horn of the train with routine predictability. I derive a strange sense of comfort from that sound, just knowing where it is coming from and that it happens every day, although I am sitting miles away from the train and cannot see it.

Because places are not much different from people. You live in them, you live with them. You grow with them, and they grow on you. Familiarity sometimes breeds contempt, and romance dissipates, love evaporates. Until you see things from someone else's eyes, from a new perspective, and perhaps remember what it felt like all those years ago. Because we are creatures of habit, and new places mold us into new habits. Like, I drop by the grocery store every day from work, even if I do not need anything. Because the aisles feel familiar, the people feel familiar. That is the comfort of familiarity. Then sometimes, I take a different bus home, and am surprised by the newness all over again. And thus continues my romance with this city, turning a little bit into love with every passing day.

sunshine

On being one's boss

As the train rolled into the station close to two in the morning, almost an hour behind schedule, I pressed my nose to the window pane trying to make out as much of the city as the view would allow. Silhouettes of tall buildings stood as vanguard in the downtown landscape. Traffic lights blinked red and green and occasional cars waited and sped by in otherwise empty streets. Little local stores stood in the darkness dwarfed by larger ones. There wasn't much to make of the city in the dark.

It took another hour to get home, home being a temporary arrangement of sorts. As I debated whether to fully unpack or wait until I moved to a more permanent place in a few weeks or months, the philosophical voice in my head (also known as brain chatter) told me to go ahead and unpack since all homes are temporary anyway. Running alarmingly low on energy, I was glad for all the home-cooked food G had meticulously packed me (even including dessert) as one would do before sending off their kid to college.

After struggling to fall asleep between delirious bouts of tossing in bed, I finally did in the wee hours of dawn. Despite my ambitious plans of showing up at work by 8, that never happened. I slept fitfully for the next few hours, to wake up and realize that I feel even more tired. I walked up to the window and drew the blinds to get my first view of the neighborhood. It looks like any American suburban neighborhood, at least the ones I have seen. Pretty family homes with yards full of potted plants and trees adding color to the fall season. A little grocery store at walking distance which is a huge relief for someone with restricted mobility. Except for the occasional whir of cars stopping and rolling at the Stop sign, there are no sounds at all. No people, no view of the sea and no ships sailing by. I live thousands of miles away from Germany now.

Thus began life in another prison as I molted and liberated myself out of the last one.

Day one at work was very unusual. I never made it to work. Exhaustion induces sleep in a way more potent than drugs or alcohol. I never became fully awake or cognizant of the world until about 4 pm. Just that "poor thing, she is jet lagged and tired" will not take me very far.

Day two: So as not to repeat what happened on day one, I woke up at 5 in the morning and got ready to take the 7 am bus. I was on campus well before 8, only to get stuck because there was no one to let me in. The day was spent mostly doing paperwork. ID cards and visa stuff, setting up computers and emails. It is amazing how much time all this takes. People came by to say hello and introduce themselves. It is pretty much getting married and being a new bride. People show up in hordes to meet you, smile, say how pretty you are (in this case, how fortunate they are to have me) and asking me if I remember them (from the interview). As a new bride/employee, I have to do my homework. I have to know names and faces and be able to match the correct name to face, pretty much like the old aunt of a distant cousin who says, “Remember me?” I have to be familiar with what research they do so that I don’t look lost when they talk. This is also the time when people want to rope you in collaborations since you are new and they want to help you. It is always good to memorize everyone’s CVs.

But here is the strangest thing about being a professor. Suddenly, you don’t have an advisor. No one tells you what to do and you are your own boss. The feeling can sometimes be quite confusing especially since all this while, you are used to looking for validation. Most people respond in two ways. Either they get off the tangent and don’t work as much, or they try to over-compensate and work too hard. Striking the right balance is the key.

It feels like a decade’s worth of training leads up to this final moment of being an independent researcher and faculty member. It’s liberating and scary at the same time. At home, I feel like a little child, cowering and clueless. But when I go to work, I put on my best clothes, my confidence, and show that I am sharp, smart, and bright. It’s a show, a mask I put on until I can figure out how to effortlessly navigate my way around.

I thought that the brightest spot of my day was finding a bus that runs from home to work (not having to drive in America is a rare luxury). It became even brighter when I was issued a card that would let me ride the bus for free. Little joys in life.

sunshine