Infecting him with Covid this way, and trying to recover together in hotels, while sharing the feeling of a wasted holiday on which we have also spent a lot of money in last minute travel-change-plans and rescheduled tickets, is a reminder of all that we share, of what marriage means. Of how despite his anxiety of covid and sickness, he wouldn't leave me alone when I was sick. 

(I could have isolated better if hypochondriac sister in law hadn't forced us to move to a hotel last minute where it became unreasonable financially as well as difficult for me to be alone in one room and him in another).

He got it from me and is now sick, and roles have reversed, although I am still weak and feel woolly headed after walking just a bit. we are in Barcelona now. I made him lift all the suitcases thinking I was sick and was even congratulating us on keeping him safe, but soon after we got here his health gave way. 

Our hotel is in El Raval, the neighborhood of Barcelona that is referred to as 'edgy, dangerous, dynamic, immigrant, artistic' and used to be the Chinatown of the city years ago. Now the dominant language seems Punjabi, the predominant people desis and pakis, their families very traditional and conservative with men mostly seeming the breadwinners and women seen around children in salwar kameezes. even the young girls wear those. but all these people speak Espanol like native speakers, call you their sista if you try helping their stuck machine in the laundry shop, and their faces suddenly soften if you smile at them knowingly or greet them with a namaste or ask them if they are from Lahore or Dilli. they seem like most of them came in one immigration wave. their kids run around till 11pm in the park here in front of our hotel, screaming playing riding their scooters. Barcelona in this part of the city feels very latin american, very developing country, very alive. there is also the Rambla nearby, and I havent been able to walk beyond that yet, or to the beach. there are also people from Africa and the Arab world and of course some Spanish locals and lots of tourists and they all seem to blend in together easily. I am growing very fond of this neighborhood, despite warnings of keeping my wallet closely clutched in Barcelona; I realise all you really need to do is walk with an air of seeming confidence or an easy smile, greeting people...

we will definitely have to come to Espana again, for longer than this visit, and after getting all possible vaccines and boosters.

I am watching hubby sleep. In his Budapest tshirt and jeans, with an N95 mask on his face (that is sliding off his nose as he peacefully slumbers) because we are sharing a room while still trying to protect him from me, and because I was eating with my mask off when he dozed. and i watch his pink feet, with their unnaturally high arches, his unkempt hair that needs a cut, his gentle breath filling him and coming out again, his childlike innocence, and I feel like kissing his feet but I am maintaining my covid distance. 

he has gained quite a bit of weight, as a side effect of his medication, and because I was away for half this summer and not around to keep him eating and exercising mindfully (he spent that time with parents, who continuously snack, and then with brother and family). I'm a lil worried about the weight gain, in more ways than one. I am worried about the risk of diabetes, which also is a side effect, but more of how I feel around his body. I remember some years ago, a long living-together couple, his friends, had suddenly changed such that the guy lost significant weight and suddenly looked very fit and attractive. I remember then telling hubby that I thought that was a threat to their relationship cos the guy had started to want the woman also to lose weight then, and i said something to the effect of 'when a person in a couple suddenly loses or gains considerable weight it upsets the equilibrium in a relationship, especially when the two people were more alike before the change'. I feel like a protagonist in such a movie now. 

and yet there is "unless you really care about the person", words my colleague said that evening when we were talking about fidelity and monogamy. although he said it while explaining why he didn't understand how people could restrict their desires for their spouse's happiness, making it sound almost like an impossibility. and i had blurted in response, "that's a big 'unless', no?".

I didn't get the quiet guy I connected strangely with to meet hubby. I didn't know how they would each feel, especially the former, cos with hubby i had been more honest. but also because I didn't want him seeing us at this point in our lives, with us looking so different; i felt he would misjudge, he wouldn't understand that this is temporary or transitory, and that there is a lot much deeper that cannot be revealed to someone outside the marriage. I felt like he would get the wrong message, a false lead, some false hope.

but I do miss him a lot. and i believe we both communicated to each other enough that we really liked each other's company, and that we were sad it couldn't turn into something larger or that it had to end here, for now.

and he has a surgery today. I wonder if he has someone to take care of him. and i told him I got covid so he could test too if he felt like it, as he was one of my close contacts a couple days before I tested positive. i.e. we are still emailing..

"nothing really matters; and you make the best of what you have".

we saw an art exhibition on Klimt and his contemporaries in Belvedere palace in Vienna. unlike most art exhibitions, this one attempted to penetrate into the psychology of the painters, especially their love and sex life and how they interpreted love and sex and their impact on mental health (as understood in their times). very few people realise that love, and sex especially, is not so much a symptom of desire as it is a reflection of mental and intimacy needs, and that sex can be immensely destructive especially when it breaks trust which again is not just that but a huge and irreconcilable rejection of a person, or when love is unrequited or incestuous. but apparently these painters understood that. 

I do believe that monogamy in man and animals has evolved because it gives us a strong sense of security, of being wanted and loved no matter what, for better or for worse, it keeps us sane.

my favorite was Egon Schiele, for his very bold, colorful, somewhat grotesque, and beautiful (in their courage to occupy space and emotion on the canvas) paintings. you have to see them to understand what i am saying. the grotesqueness can sometimes seem ugly even, but I have always found ugliness and brokenness beautiful, what other people find beautiful i don't always, and in fact the words beauty and ugly thus both carry equal attraction and wonder for me.

remind me to get a couple posters/prints of Schiele's works to put up in my bedroom back home.

What makes it hard to be sympathetic to a hypochondriac is not so much their constant worry about their own health, but that in that preoccupation they care so little about other people. Hypochondriacs can rarely adopt the role of caregivers. God help you if your mother and sister in law are both hypochondriacs.

I am in Basque country, in Bilbao. I met the guy separately to say a special bye, to communicate without words what his company had meant. Y'day when we were flying - an early morning flight to Valencia and then another one after a longish layover to Bilbao - my throat felt scratchy and i felt like a corpse because the European low cost airlines have uncomfortable seats and no built in mould-able pillow in the seat back such that I couldn't catch up on sleep. And then we reached the Airbnb that others had booked and invited us to, to share a holiday together. Bilbao was hot like Delhi in May, yesterday. But we still got out and sat outdoors in the heat to order numerous pintxos like tourists at a bar. Because la otras mujer is still not comfortable taking her mask off indoors with other people. And then this morning I got out for a run, to a large pretty park and then along the estuary of the Bay of Biscay, to the Guggenheim museum here, and the giant flower-garden bear/dog in front of it. I felt alive and fresh, and felt like my unexercised bums had needed just this the whole of last week. I got back sweaty and happy and had a cold water shower, which felt a lil too cold. And soon after i started to burn and feel feverish. I tested positive on a home self test covid kit. And we were soon thrown out of the shared Airbnb by the otra mujer. We are now in a hotel, the weather is cooling off, i am now feeling cold but am feeling better and hungry and asking hubby (who tested negative although we had been sharing bed, water bottle, pintxos, and what-not) to get me empanadas. I was also trying my broken Espanol y'day and at one point the waiter, exasperated, just asked in English, "what do you want?". hubby says people are much friendlier here than in Budapest (and Vienna) but the airport bathrooms in Valencia were keeping the stereotype of Spanish disorder, and Budapest really grew first on me and then on him and my sister who also visited. the grittiness of it, the laidbackness of it, it's language and its people, it's Jewishness and it's strange night life; the day we finally left we needed a cab at 2 in the morning which was proving to be difficult. In the process we realised it was the time for parties and conversations to get over, an open pub near our Airbnb suddenly let out a group of mellow drunk youngsters, men and women, who strolled out calmly, depositing their empty glasses carefully at the bar counter (where i was trying to get help calling a cab) and then one of the women walked out and sat on the ground/sidewalk to wear her lace shoes which she had taken off inside. Other people were also walking back home or getting dropped off from similar gatherings, talking but not noisy, drunk but not disoriented. A cabby finally showed up and was very courteous and polite. This is the one thing I wish I could take back to India, the physical freedom women have in the west....

its my last day at work here. the office recently moved to a different wing in the same building, its fancier now, river facing, large deck/terrace, more space, looking over the local statue of Liberty and Gellert hill, the castle, etc. but I kinda miss the old office. the rooms here look unfinished, unhomely, not yet ready for conversations and musings. today though I found a nicer one unlocked; it looks onto the old office windows and doesn't get the sun either in the morning or in the afternoon. (it is summer here too, and finally I am turning away from the sun). most women fellows when they leave, they spend time saying their goodbyes to other women, getting them small gifts, having cake with them... and a brusque handshake is enough for their male colleagues. to me it feels both like my first day was just yesterday and that I was a different person when I came here. it feels both very short and memorably long. and the two people I feel I got to know the most are men. my saying goodbye was thus a few drinks at a place. it started out slow, but soon we were talking about age and gender, and from there onto monogamy and fidelity and philosophy/bullshit. the guy I at first thought was cold, is actually just hard to read, and I told him so after a couple of caipirinhas. the other one mostly just watched and listened to our opposite views. it all grew into something we will remember for sure. I walked home wondering how and why i let out so much; I also divulged that I think I am bisexual and that maybe there is no line separating hetero and homosexuality. and so today I am relatively quiet even though the talker was goading me into a continuation of yesterday's conversation... the quiet guy i have felt a strange connection with. it calms down when we are together. people around kinda blur out. and he talks when others are missing. he said he doesn't like opera, ballet, or poetry. and the last thing he read was something by Bukowski: short stories. are a poet's short stories that different from his poetry? what is poetry anyway? since the conversation with him, I looked up the short story that lent its name to the collection. and I read a couple poems by him too. poems feel like short stories without the skeleton of one, i.e. without the skull, ribs, bones of a story, without the assertion of having a beginning a middle and an end. poems feel like moments picked randomly out of a continuum of storytelling. and that short story felt like a poem, with the rythm and life of the person who was its theme, her energy and death both tragic and lyrical. i saw mental illness in it, and some history of trauma (that's what I have been reading about). but you could say we are all ill, traumatized, and tragically beautiful. alive, and in death if someone grieves for us. i am in a strange mood today. its not sadness, its not regret. its stocktaking maybe. or being quiet after an unplanned confession of sorts. a few days ago I told hubby i was falling for this guy. that i could finally probably understand how someone could love two different people simultaneously. yesterday's conversation with drinks, however, gave me perspective; i barely know him and vice versa. maybe in a different universe it would have gone differently. and today I saw his eyes rest for a moment on my white shirt, maybe my pink bra was showing through under the breast pockets. the thought causes me discomfort. and yet it feels like a small detail to forgive, in comparison with the air that we share, the times his eyes searched mine while going out of sight, and the way we ask how the other is the very next day as if we can sense and want to ease the turbulence we cause each other. life sometimes overwhelms me. and at times like these death seems a small part of life itself. like today's news of Shinzo Abe being shot. how are we capable of feeling and absorbing so much. how do we not drip, leak, and spillover?

another couple, long time friends of ours, are expecting a baby. I hadn't known they had been trying, had had at least one miscarriage, had given up, and then suddenly got pregnant serendipitously. 

every time I hear of another first pregnancy, another couple planning or trying, i question my rejection of motherhood. Am I missing out, am I supposed to try to get on, should I want to not miss out...? the bandwagon..

but I am also reading about how emotionally insecure parents bequeath insecurity to their children. we do have enough on our plates and i don't want us to force another life to be part of it, to bear it, or share our burden, or grow up with it and be shaped by it...

my life feels like snakes and ladders. I go from 'salary is stuck due to unknown paperwork missing' to that plus 'I'm unable to pay rent to my Hungarian landlord cos my Desi bank won't let me add him as beneficiary and the slightly insane landlord doesn't want cash anymore..' plus 'my (only) bank card suddenly froze and was declined at multiple locations such that I can't access whatever little money I do have' !! and then soon back to just the first again. 

even at this age I'm always at the brink of homelessness. what would I do without hubby and family. did I mention last month when I moved from my first Airbnb here to a flat with a lease, i found my shower drain to be clogged (in a fancy 'Gurgaon-style flat with blue night lights on the loft-bedroom stairs') such that after a few days I had to book a day-hotel just to bathe, and fight with landlord that clog wasn't my doing and that he needed to get it cleaned asap. 

on the cheery side, cos sunlit hours are so many here in the summer, I've started going for 5:30am runs. and my flat happens to be a block away from the large city park, that also has a nice running track with laid in cushion. this one morning an older fit sweet guy was running in the opposite direction and smiled and waved at me the first time we crossed. and then the second time, he extended his hand sideways and we did a really cool running side-five. another morning though there was this homeless guy on a bench having a conversation with his imaginary friend/colleague/landlord/enemy...

an Italian woman colleague said last month that as the weather was getting out of spring and warming it's way into summer she had started noticing homeless people, and she asked me if my walk after our late group dinner had felt safe..? I did admit that that was the first time here i felt a lil unsure of walking alone.. I met a couple harmless drunk fellows, but also said that maybe my feeling unsafe wasn't warranted cos nothing happened, and that a homeless person doesn't have to be a threat... 

I was also watching an American documentary on homelessness... 

back to my problems - real and imaginary - this one Sunday morning some guy was peeping into my (ground floor) windows, and even knocked on my door. that morning I froze with fear and was dead silent waiting for him to go away. turned out he was some technician and with a friend he worked the whole day pulling out wires from on top of every door in this building around our shared courtyard. 

and one day my phone just slipped out of my hands and onto the sidewalk and it's glass screen shattered. a few days later the best I could do here (this is not Motorola country) was get a Jordanian guy to stick a plastic screen on top of it so that glass shards didn't keep chipping off into my fingers as I touched it. 

that's the life I live.

I've had some fabulous langosh (with beef beans and sour cream, and paprika) recently btw in Drum cafe. it's the Hungarian substitute for pizza dough i guess, which they top with various stuff, the dough is fried though almost like bhatura, also reminding me of something very similar in Navajo country that's called a Navajo taco! 

and some cherry (cold) soup! these guys love their sour cherries.. even boiling it in a milky soup..? and serving cold (the broth feels yogurtish with the sourness of the cherry almost curdling the milk, but is nice!)

and some Egyptian Koshary. tomorrow will try it with liver (whose I'm not sure). Goose liver is very Hungarian btw..

I am also getting hooked onto the many gelato shops around.. y'day i got a scoop from a sidewalk counter of Nandori cukraszda (was it?) just before a hoard of kindergarten littloos who had been shepherded there by their teachers (I'm guessing)... summer is nice here.

I like the Europeans who accept that they are prejudiced against Americans. even though I also now find the only American colleague here 'loud' and his responses predictable.

And in a group of Europeans, talking with them in what one called 'international English' today, I sometimes start speaking broken English too.

today I explained amused, to a bunch of them, how many of us in India are more comfortable in English than in our 'native' language. heard an interesting historic summary of how the official/scientific language in Europe shifted from Latin to French to German and since the end of WW2 slowly to English as German was abandoned or as Germany and Habsburg etc. failed it's scientists who fled to English speaking America. 

also heard a different perspective on maternity leave in Hungary. had earlier heard from another bunch that it's very liberal giving the mother 2-3 yrs wherein her salary slowly decreases as a percentage. today these guys gave me a different perspective, claiming that it was a Soviet era policy to pull women out of the workforce by enticing them into motherhood, and also to keep unemployment low.

very interesting conversations, again more with and from men than women...

one woman said that she couldn't imagine making America her home because the country was too large (compared with European countries) and thus lacked in her imagination (she has never been across the Atlantic) the feeling of cosiness, of small friendly close-knit neighborhoods, ... 

and I wondered about cultural and social and neighborly horizons...

when I asked a guy here about his country, Latvia, I noticed his description his answers were all in the nature of a comparison between Latvia and UK, where he now lives and works. in India I don't feel sexy. I don't know whether it is the weather and the heat most of the year, or the pollution, or the umpteen social and other demands on one's time and the navigating of the traffic and the city it takes to get to them, but we barely have time and mood for sex. here, there are quite a few sex shops, and there is something about the place that is keeping me aroused. and it isn't just being alone (that also tends to do that by allowing me a lot of free time for exploration) because it isn't like before. unless it is something about the verge of turning 40, about the spurt before it will all finally slowly die out... y'day I wore shorts to office cos it is getting too hot to be in pants and walking around, and I do have a longish walking commute that I prefer to taking public transport. I compensated by wearing a bright white shirt tucked in that is soft and just a lil see through, and dangling earrings that seemed to go well. (earrings I have been doing since I got here as I am always negative on make-up anyway and silver jewellery is the only thing I am bonkers about given some time to bother with, which I am getting here). office was empty, no one else had turned up, a few are travelling, a few have left, one I know went to a doctor... later I saw a colleague and with him a friend of his who is also trying to get a contract here it seems. the new guy was checking me out quite visibly and maybe this is just me but I felt his mood dampen soon as I mentioned 'my husband' in conversation. is being desired a usual turn-on? it hasn't always been for me cos I do remember warding off a few people in my history who seemed to want to get close and also being ew-ed by it a bit. but then there are others you don't mind and brush away, some who surprise you because just then in your life you thought you were losing your youthfulness and charm, some who scare you a bit (like hubby did in those early days) because well because you hadn't expected it and you don't know whether you want it and whether its something you can handle (I remember those days I avoided dressing up even a bit when I was expecting him to be around cos I didn't want to stir anything), and some you seem to warm up to because of it. and then just yesterday I was wondering whether my self-diagnosis of being bi-sexual is mostly wrong because its been a while there's been a woman in that list of people I have felt anything for. and I got my answer this morning. I was walking across the large expanse of city park (near where my apartment is) on my way to the other immigration office to register my address, in shorts a sleeveless cotton shell with a rain jacket tied around my waist cos the last couple of days here have been monsoon-like; I passed a few runners as it was still not late in the morning, and then saw this particular one - small in frame, short hair, in a tank and shorts, running up to me. I couldn't tell whether it was a guy or a girl (my eyesight isn't great either) but there was something about the running posture, something about the gait that I kinda related to, made me want to join in. as I got closer I first saw the reddish face, hot and sweaty but happy with the running, and I just smiled wide, a lips-only warm smile that seemed to communicate I saw her happiness and I understood it. and she smiled back at me, mouth slightly open and breathing heavily, as she passed me by. I didn't even need to look back to get another glance at her, something profound seemed to have been exchanged in that one look and smile. in case you are still wondering, the answer wasn't just that I am attracted to her, a woman, but that it didn't matter whether she was one or whether I could tell but there was something about her as a person and about how I related to how I thought she was feeling, and how she was enjoying something I do too, and that she saw it and responded, something about all of that in this case, that left no doubt in my head as I walked on with the memory of that moment in my mind's eye, still smiling.

I had expected to blog more about Budapest from here, about the city maybe this country, some sort of a travelogue... but being alone after so long has been kinda self introspective and meditative. 

I think I am still in love with the idea of falling in love, and with the idea of someone falling in love with me. 

I find conversations with men so much easier than with women. I make friends rarely but fast. I like people who don't like making small talk, who are awkward in one way or another, who are non-ordinary and/or uncomfortable. but yeah I am still surprised by the people I like, by the deception of first impressions, by how comfortably i reveal my soul to some..

I got that longed for haircut. But only after about a week it's feeling like I could have got more chopped off, it's a nice haircut though, realised after getting it that a lot of women both old and young here have something similar. Had got a feeling that here they would be able to do a short women's haircut justice. now for that coloring it, waiting for paycheck. 

there's a person at work who is shy and sweet, older but feels more alone and possibly still single. I think almost everywhere where I get to know a few people, I feel like one is falling for me. and even I seem to like him, rather I'm growing fond of him. but as I was telling hubby i wonder if getting any more friendly would send out the wrong message, and that being married sometimes inhibits me from exploring serendipitous connections. 

are all European homes within built with IKEA parts as if they were Lego?

there's an Italian colleague here I at first thought was cold. y'day he and I had Vietnamese lunch together cos no one else was around. we ended up talking. he's lived in Shanghai, even in DC a bit.. loves that city like I do too. made a face at NYC, said it has a soul (like Rome for him) that is too much, it overwhelms. i think I understand; NYC is the only place outside of India and Kathmandu that has felt overwhelming. and now I want to visit Rome to meet its soul. 

we started talking about politics at some point, about how no one in Budapest seemed to care while news from outside about Orban seemed full of fear and boding. he said "because we are privileged..". from there on he got sad or hopeless and started talking first about India's abstaining regarding the Russian invasion of Ukraine... and then about Italians and their anti-Americanism and fascination for Putin and strong men.. i almost felt like hugging him he got so morose. I tried to cheer him up by asking if he had seen Zelensky's show on Netflix but he doesn't have Netflix! just like his surprise at me not using WhatsApp maybe. and then he left unsaid many things which he said were for another time... and then left to buy blueberries...

even at work he looks like his mind is on another plane sometimes, I'm not sure it's sadness, coldness, or something quite else.

Later i went and bought blueberries too, from the central market; and strawberries, and apples and mandarins, and puffed rice and celery (with root). fresh produce is so cheerful, esp sold lose by weight. but even here they give each thing in a separate plastic bag; I've started recycling and carrying my own; the Asian woman in a stall y'day was annoyed at me for that, dunno why. 

I was watching something on Netflix, a coming of age of Indian (short) love stories, about queer people, about casual love, found but that probably would never last, etc. ... In one a guy asks a girl why she and her friends stage protests about the degradation of the environment when they know it won't change anything in the world. the girl says, "so the world doesn't change me".

Ive been wanting to cut my hair real short again and maybe color it blue/purple, now I wouldn't even need to bleach it before adding color cos there are lots of whites...

walking around a few days I got the feeling that very few Budapest locals work white collar desk jobs and that a number of them probably are employed in art, music, movies, media, etc. or the food and restaurant business. also saw a couple very small groups filming something on the streets, no fanfare no crowd. barely anyone around wears formals, even on weekdays commute hours; such a contrast to DC where I always feel under-dressed with the immaculate women in their pretty dresses going to work in those numerous offices.

now watching a presentation by an American academic visiting this place who works in communication and media studies. he informs me that a major industry in Budapest is films and commercials production, often outsourced from the rest of the world; and that Dune was produced here; and that Budapest has the largest film industry in continental Europe! apparently it even offers a great variety of architectural and geographical locations while remaining in and around the city.

I am in Budapest visiting the IAS of a university. it is funny how many books and shows that I am/was reading/watching have recently and unexpectedly referenced the history of Budapest during the holocaust.. or just the city as today. Russian Doll; Boris on youTube; Sheila Heti's 'Motherhood'; and what I picked up to read on my phone's Kindle today (hubby's account), a book about Kurt Godel.. in fact the last one hit home even more intimately ... I had just received (as I woke up this morning) a rejection for a short paper close to my heart from yet another journal, and the book started with reproducing Godel's psychiatrist's notes about him: "Belief that he hasn't achieved goals that he set out for himself - hence a "failure" - therefore other people, particularly the Institute (Princeton IAS), will also regard him as a failure and try to get rid of him. ... Took on big subjects, may not have been talented enough. - Usually works on his own, in way and fields that are opposed to current stream. ... Listed the various distractions that have interfered w/his progress w/his philosophical work. ..." I was sitting in the office of the National DG of Aliens Policing then and unprepared for a long wait, this was all I had. by the way, the office felt so like the DMVs of the USA, but less crowded and much more European if you know what that means. incidentally, Doha airport felt very American on my recent layover; efficient, clean, with a lot of the ground force of African origin. In the Buda office of Aliens policing I then spent some time looking at maps and reading Wikipedia about the Habsburg empire and the names of the major cities and what they are called now; for eg. Lemberg seems now to be Lviv in Ukraine. Sheila Heti on the other hand moved me by writing about her mother's and father's parents' history in Budapest, and of her mother later in Canada: "When I was five years old, my father and I went to visit her in the apartment where she was living for several months, so she could focus on studying for her exams. There seemed to be nothing so glamorous or romantic in the world as a mother who lived alone in an apartment with her colored pends and books. I wanted to grow up and be like her. I wanted to live in an apartment, too, with no one around to bother me.", and of course the reason why I bought her book in the first place: her questioning, similar but much deeper than mine, of the reasons to become a mother, of the need to do so or not... incidentally also, I am staying in an Airbnb apartment in Pest, in one of those old buildings all stuck together with courtyards in between that house many people with space used very efficiently ("most Hungarians homes are small" a man said to a small boy walking with him a couple days ago behind me on some street here, as he explained to him possibly the difference between Hungary and whichever European country the boy, possibly his nephew, was visiting from) - mine has a loft bed right above my living space - with no one to bother me and so I can work on a new proposal and on old rejected papers, undistracted by anyone, thanks to this visiting grant. also I have always been struck by what Virginia Woolf said and wrote about women and their need of "A room of one's own" which they often didn't have and without which it was difficult if not impossible to tap into their talents... the day I came in, the cleaners were still cleaning out this place, there were no bed linen or towels and the ones used by the previous renters were running in the washer in the bath, my phone and computer plugs wouldn't go into the electric outlets in the walls (European plugs look like Indian ones but have thinner metal pins and smaller plugs and the last times I visited Europe was from the USA where the plugs are different... I got fooled into thinking I didn't need converters this time), there was no shampoo and bath products, ... such that I spent hours hunting around the mall near this place looking for various things and feeling utterly lost. luckily I was carrying my old computer which has an american plug and I realized the small jugaad converter I carried for it works for all my plugs, but this only after I stopped a random desi-looking guy outside the mall to ask him for where I could get an India-Eu converter and he lit a bulb in my mind by saying "there are these Chinese shops..."!!! now after finally having also bought a stove lighter (the apartment has an old stove w/o an auto-lighter that seems like no one has used in a while cos there was no lighter around), which was hard to find as the shops around only seem to carry the portable gas-lighters for the numerous smokers in this city, this apartment is finally feeling like a room of my own. the trams are similar to Jerusalem, you buy tickets and punch them inside the train, but even if you didn't no one is checking, and most locals seem to be traveling with something either more permanent that doesn't need to be brought out at all or without it.. another university I ran into yday, in search of a large park where I could run, felt similar to my university where I got my PhD from, simply in the combination of vast space modern architecture and young people rambling around the campus... (the university where I am visiting is in contrast, a smaller campus, more in the center of town, where you don't see hoards of students milling around). on my way running back, a bus-driver waved to me (or so I thought) and I waved back (felt very American), and then after about 5 minutes of driving along with me or a little faster than me, he stopped at a bus stop and clapped looking at me supposedly to say I made it (catch the bus); I felt like I had misled him but just smiled and ran past; not many people running around (a few near the Danube in the mornings and more inside the modern university campus), but they do seem to walk a lot, and faster than me, which is not usual in most places.

this week has been a whirlwind of emotions that I didn't know I could feel in such short a span of time. students have been harassing and emotionally blackmailing me on email in anticipation of their final grade. one of the two balcony born pigeons died after being unable to learn how to fly. I discovered it with the stench of death and then saw its hardened feet sticking out from under the AC unit there. I've been having trouble eating chicken since then. the nauseousness and simultaneous diarrhoea and throbbing blood through my veins in the middle of the night that sometimes preceded my period in Texas came back mysteriously. got a more welcoming visa after almost being sure it was going to be denied and after thus ranting at 'them' annoyedly. took the metro to try and attend someone's farewell at work and missed the shuttle so took the metro back home. the heat. the mosquitoes. spent a day with visiting parents and bid them off with all my plants so they can water them in my absence. feeling very sad, lost, confused, at leaving home and them even though it's barely a few months (that feel scarily long) and even though I always thought I'd be excited to go in this way. stole a freshly laid egg from the balcony after the death, and put it in the garden under a tree; went next day and saw it still there. watching Russian Doll.

we are funny animals: we kill factory style to feed ourselves and yet we feel for the loss of other birds and animals. I am scared of lizards and have infected him with the fear too and now seem to be losing it a lil bit, and wonder whether I'd mourn a baby lizard's death too if I saw it be laid as an egg. 

India always made me sentimental.

he usually buys overripe fruit. and vegetables. I sometimes drown the worms in a mug of water for half a day, to avoid them crawling out of my kitchen bin. 

what is it that really matters?

and if I see a mosquito right now, I'll abandon everything else to kill it. Either with my bare hands (water on them disables their wings) or by electrocuting them with that racquet insect killer.

One day we will be just nothing.

this is the year of making new friends, just when I thought I was too old for that. one a classmate's sister from when I was 12-13. another a neighbor. and yet another, much more surprisingly, a much younger colleague who joined this place with me and turns out is a lot like me and has lived a similar trajectory of life (our dads shared a profession). 

but something scary is happening in my country. this whole political polarisation of the two main religious communities against each other is going a little too far, getting a little dangerous now. where my shuttle picks up commuters from the metro station, there was a small riot a week or so ago. (my reaction to the question of whether I should continue commuting that way was "what sort of a riot is this with no deaths?!"; I have become so inured, such a cynic). and then y'day mom told me some houses were razed down in a demolition drive. there have been similar demolition drives in some other places, predominantly homes of people of a particular religion. (I haven't had the time to read news lately; or there isn't any pleasure in reading them anyway). and now I connect that with the removal of loudspeakers from mosques. I love the call to namaaz. but we are still not doing anything, we are still silent. my father supports all of this, and so do many other relatives. that is the scariest bit here.

birds start chattering in large numbers these days very early in the morning when it's still dark; I haven't seen this anywhere else. It's fascinating to hear but also jolts me out of my sleep if i do. so I protest sleepily when he invites me to come see.

I've been so busy lately and so overworked; also nervous about how exams would play out etc.; that metro has become my retreat to catch up on precious sleep. and then someday when I drive, I feel like the car and me don't get to see each other enough these days. One day Google maps tried to help me by saving me the hassle of road closures and traffic delays on the highway to sonepat; I ended up lost on unpaved paths in rural haryana and it took me a while to find a way out. but even there an electric blue flash of a Kingfisher flew by.

Neutering dogs makes them more gender equal; it empowers the females. I feel like I've said this here before. in Udaipur recently there was a pair in the homestay where we stayed: the female growled at me when we reached and I tried to pat her. I realised then she had just been raped; the male next to her still had its unnaturally large (compared to its tiny frame) penis out. I wanted to click but I restrained myself. the owners lived what their daughter called "sustainably". it's not like they were blind to the female's plight; they talked about it like it was an unavoidable nuisance.

I saw the white throated (or browed) fantail there; a day or two after i heard his beautiful song. there was also something that kept screaming a monosyllabic sound like a warning or an alarm; haven't yet been able to identify it. and we had a bay window where if u lay u felt like u were lying in the trees.