tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48536561223423995042024-03-13T17:20:25.345-04:00Independent Random VariablesNanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-84070348230289437242020-01-22T14:58:00.000-05:002020-01-22T14:58:04.127-05:00Twenty-One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>A poem I wrote a while -- yet not so long -- ago.</i><br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
At twenty-one<br />
I am too old and too young,<br />
too bold, and too easily undone.<br />
More than ever,<br />
I am<br />
the onion I always thought people could be;<br />
layers<br />
years<br />
sixteen hundred skins<br />
all enclosed in one.<br />
Skin encircled by skin,<br />
cell snug with cell<br />
sweetness at the very core.<br />
Right now,<br />
I am too green,<br />
my vision too pink<br />
my heart too warm.<br />
I know not of the world,<br />
they tell me.<br />
For in the real world,<br />
glistening doorknobs tarnish<br />
with every clockwise turn,<br />
lacquered wood loses its varnish<br />
with each dancer's swoosh and whirl.<br />
There is no magic<br />
in the real world.<br />
In the real world<br />
the dark hearts of cities<br />
burn<br />
in fires lit by poor men<br />
to stay warm.<br />
Paper, wet wood, tyres,<br />
and the souls of passersby<br />
well-traversed but long gone,<br />
into smoke.<br />
The man says:<br />
What's his is mine,<br />
what's yours is, too,<br />
what's mine is mine,<br />
the masses are just mules.<br />
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And yet<br />
the sun rises and sets<br />
each day,<br />
storms come,<br />
tides turn.<br />
Flowers ripen into fruit<br />
friends find their way into my heart<br />
leaves find their way through the fall.<br />
And the ceaseless turning of the world<br />
never fails to astound me;<br />
the fact that we continue to exist<br />
on this giant misshapen sphere<br />
that spins madly<br />
on an axis of our imagination,<br />
or how the sun draws out all the colours in the sky<br />
as it runs to rest, vivified,<br />
calling out,<br />
clinging on to the warmth of its embers<br />
overwhelms me.<br />
At twenty-one,<br />
I am too young to see everything,<br />
too clouded by preconception to see it clearly, for sure.<br />
Too weathered to see the joy that cold mountain air brings in the autumn,<br />
only how brisk it is in my bones.<br />
Because<br />
words are wood pulp<br />
life is wandering prose,<br />
people are just empty vessels<br />
and you know what they say about those.</blockquote>
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<i>November, 2012</i></div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-83092388882040687872018-10-11T12:43:00.001-04:002018-10-11T13:59:47.612-04:00Boston Backlog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Photos from Boston I never got around to posting. <i>*Insert facepalm monkey here*</i></div>
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Boston is pretty! New England in the fall, look!</div>
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The city is dotted with public pianos. Publicly played, publicly painted.</div>
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They get some good use! </div>
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The train stations are movie picturesque. Boston's public transport is pretty great, if you don't lose yourself in it five times a day like we did.</div>
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The art galleries are very art gallery.<br />
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The train stations are very noir.<br />
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My incredibly smart, talented, and gorgeous model and I even made it to MIT! You know, from the outside.<br />
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And to the incredible Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.</div>
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I'll leave you with some Russian instaspam account/photo mag butts t<span style="text-align: right;">ill I unearth my next stack.</span></div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-41141213136814105132016-10-05T23:55:00.007-04:002020-01-22T14:56:16.119-05:00Second Chances and Time for RuminationI wrote a post on IRV last year about Cambodia where I posted just three of the many photos I had taken in the few months I lived there.<br />
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At the time, I thought against sharing the others publicly because I thought they were unremarkable. But while looking through them recently, I had second thoughts, because hey, life is mostly unremarkable. That's why we take photos, isn't it? Out of some sense of wanting to preserve the inherently, inexplicably beautiful life force in each moment.<br />
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So here's to the photos that almost made it. And to second chances, which I've recently come around to embracing as the door God opens when you think the only available one has closed.<br />
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<i>As always, click the photos to view in large (and to bypass any dull commentary that accompanies).</i></div>
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I. Getting there</h3>
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The plane ride over from New York to Cambodia was all about the sunrises. It was perhaps the only flight I have ever taken where so many people were standing in the galley for so long despite the length of the flight (12 hours) or turbulence, despite constant seatbelt signs and warnings and the fact that we were essentially in a delicate mechanical bird up in the earth's atmosphere. Bless those old Chinese men and their commitment to the dao life.<br />
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When I got there, this is what was to become my everyday:<br />
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Farm on the right, farmers on the left. And...</div>
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II. Chickens, (un)glorious chickens!</h3>
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And some more.</div>
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Duncan, the CEO of the organisation* I went to work with was one of the key people who made things happen across four countries and two continents. He visited frequently when I was there, and we had some wonderful dinner conversations about microfinance projects he has done around the globe and the things only experience can tell you about development life. (TLDR; it takes a toll!)</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*<i>NB: </i>For the purpose of this post, the microfinance NGO I worked at will only be referred to as 'the organisation'. With a bit of research, you can probably figure out which one it is, but I assume most people are already in the know/not bothered enough to do that.</span></div>
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Did someone say chickens?</div>
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And finally, <strike>dead chickens</strike> farmers! The picture below has some of my lovely farm friends at the Saturday farmers' market. Yes, they carried the chickens from farm to table on their motorbikes like badasses. Yes, they 'maintained the cold chain' in 42 degree celsius heat using simple painted thermocol boxes. No, I never ate a farm chicken.</div>
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Why? See directly above. </div>
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The organisation also worked with some Japanese donors to build a school in a remote community near the Thai border while I was there. Nearly 800 children of all ages in this village had just one wooden shack to share among themselves. We helped build them a few stronger and more weather-resilient classrooms.</div>
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Here is the Buddhist opening ceremony for the school. As the token foreigner, they asked me to say a few words. You may remember that I don't speak a whole lot of Khmer. Well, they didn't speak English either. Lots of smiling and bowing, my friends. Lots.</div>
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As I said, it was a remote village, and it had a classroom view to match. Good luck keeping the students' focus on maths in these surroundings, teachers!</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vjGl7hTFK4g/V983GjZbMZI/AAAAAAAAHj4/GBJJeffLBDY5pUiJGRkhFFktmBC8eWwWgCLcB/s1600/IMG_1293-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vjGl7hTFK4g/V983GjZbMZI/AAAAAAAAHj4/GBJJeffLBDY5pUiJGRkhFFktmBC8eWwWgCLcB/s1600/IMG_1293-5.jpg" width="800" /></a><br />
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Mr Sophal, our farm manager, is such a chilled out roots and trees man. It was an absolute pleasure to be around him as he ran the farm's day-to-day business, and sometimes he took me for great Cambodian coffee and on motorcycle rides through ancient temples (literally). Here he is explaining the benefits of rare wild herbs found onsite.</div>
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But you know, you can't always make everyone happy. Maybe it was my face?</div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M786ftJoVzw/V983J6zln2I/AAAAAAAAHlQ/_GAzidBDOUMOuV7N70IyHiQ_TqkFPG20QCLcB/s1600/IMG_1967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M786ftJoVzw/V983J6zln2I/AAAAAAAAHlQ/_GAzidBDOUMOuV7N70IyHiQ_TqkFPG20QCLcB/s640/IMG_1967.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
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III. Around town:</h3>
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Siem Reap is essentially a tourist town built on the global fame of Angkor Wat and the good old image of the exotic east. Lots of spas and an absurd mix of hippie medicinal products and services crammed along the two main streets that made up downtown Siem Reap. I have no pictures of that, but here are some more pictures of the markets that the locals actually went to.</div>
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Local markets (<i>psar</i>) in Siem Reap are usually high-ceilinged sheds with everything from shoes, restaurants and fresh fish to fruits...</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fl5wq151-8/V983KdHeIxI/AAAAAAAAHlk/e_zvCxW-FbIunc3lOqPF8hLp-S2vwmL-ACLcB/s1600/IMG_1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fl5wq151-8/V983KdHeIxI/AAAAAAAAHlk/e_zvCxW-FbIunc3lOqPF8hLp-S2vwmL-ACLcB/s1600/IMG_1999.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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chillies and fresh-peeled garlic<br />
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and beauticians, all crammed into one large space. In the words my sister used for a city in India, they are an assault on the senses.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oAyofdDrCFw/V983KWFFOgI/AAAAAAAAHlc/ZPYBSA-sHeA-bMGKIqdAYwe1YB7_EsbZQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oAyofdDrCFw/V983KWFFOgI/AAAAAAAAHlc/ZPYBSA-sHeA-bMGKIqdAYwe1YB7_EsbZQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1984.jpg" width="800" /></a><br />
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This lady, so fash. You couldn't imagine that just a few feet away from her glambox, a man was frying the catch of the day and scooping rice and veg out of large vats for hungry customers. Asia is full of practical solutions.</div>
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On the more touristy side of things, smoothies for a dollar were a big thing downtown. My preferred fruit smoothie blender was one of the nicest, most generous and hygienic vendors I saw while I was there. She wore gloves, had stall decorations, and put in tons of freshly cut fruits in my smoothies. Go see her if you're there!</div>
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IV. Home life</h3>
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While in Siem Reap, I lived in an architectural palace in the middle of nowhere. I'll be honest; I didn't have a destination address on me when was getting to Cambodia (sorry, Dad) but it's at least partly because this house doesn't even really have an address. That aside, it was an amazing construction built by this Khmer architect who had studied in France and was the at-the-time Programme Manager's brother, so knew he could con the organisation out of a fair bit of rent for the time I spent there.</div>
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I can't complain though. The construction was an insanely well-thought combination of the elements: every single part of the house was built to receive light and air circulation, and the outside of the house had different water bodies running alongside all three levels to keep temperatures moderate during the extreme seasons, including a fish pond with the pedicure fish and other nibblers at the entrance! Plus, they had mango trees, domestic mosquitoes, nymph families...</div>
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In seriousness though, I had everything. Internet, hot water, a not completely sane landlady (his wife) -- a good house would be incomplete without one --, an open plan bathroom right within my bedroom, and meals with the family.<br />
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Oh, meals with the family. Between (i) barely piecing together sentences in Khmer, French, English, and Hindi, (ii) the landlady's constant paring down of her daughter's meals ("stop eating so much rice, you're getting fat!"), and (iii) the frequent power cuts that shut down all the water, (electric) cooking stoves and practical functioning of the house, we enjoyed a lot of great meals together, especially when said landlady's mother arrived and fired up the traditional coal stove outside.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kThaTxWfVEw/V983KjxqCMI/AAAAAAAAHlo/REDj_eZpG3E7fqj9I2CAJFKihXje12fmwCLcB/s1600/IMG_2038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kThaTxWfVEw/V983KjxqCMI/AAAAAAAAHlo/REDj_eZpG3E7fqj9I2CAJFKihXje12fmwCLcB/s1600/IMG_2038.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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This is how we made that fish you see on the table. Slow cooked in a banana leaf all old school.<br />
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Below: freshly marinated mushrooms about to undergo the same treatment, and fish soup. Fish, vegetables, water. That's it. No wonder Khmer people have such glowing skin.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hgPliOteU6o/V983Kri10FI/AAAAAAAAHls/RDah1lU29OM3_cwr7hDKe0FF9Df6iTtRgCLcB/s1600/IMG_2047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hgPliOteU6o/V983Kri10FI/AAAAAAAAHls/RDah1lU29OM3_cwr7hDKe0FF9Df6iTtRgCLcB/s400/IMG_2047.jpg" width="266" /></a><br />
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V. The Temples</h3>
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One of the few times I went to visit the Angkor 'Wats' was during their annual lunar new year celebration. Lucky me! The temples were free for all locals during the festivities, so all I had to do was pretend to be Khmer for a few hours/ at the checkposts.<br />
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My solution? Motorcycle helmets.</div>
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Thank you, good humans for road safety deception tools.</div>
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My partners in crime were my neighbours: Terry and her siblings. Or maybe I was their partner in crime. Anyway, Terry had worked as a ticketing agent at Angkor Wat for a while and her sister did something similar, so they actually understood English and knew what I was saying without the exotic hand gestures and tribal dances I usually resorted to illustrating all my statements with. They were possibly the only people to fully be able to do so for the nearly three months I was there.</div>
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That's a long time for no one to understand what you're saying, my friends. A very long time.</div>
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Anyway, they were really sweet! Here Terry is below:</div>
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And here is a random lady. The reason she is covered from head to toe and umbrella-ed to boot in upwards of 40 degree celsius weather is because, well, tanning. Asian women in Asia, sigh.</div>
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These are some random tourists of 'can-you-take-a-photo of us?' variety mutual to my Cambodian friends.</div>
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Terry chips away at a sculpture.<br />
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Mary contributes. Look, art!**<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">** Also, the peace sign and Hello Kitty! Asia, we have arrived!</span><br />
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Angkor Wat fades into the background.<br />
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And butterfly princesses emerge.<br />
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All in all, we had a great time! History, music, games, food and drink, and I didn't even go to Khmer prison. That's a successful trip!<br />
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So well, you know, there's something to see in everything. Have a good week!</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-32301855840920905802016-01-02T01:53:00.000-05:002016-01-02T01:53:29.122-05:00Hong Kong<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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At some point in 2015, I took myself on a trip to Hong Kong. After months in semi-rural Cambodia and its absolute antithesis, Metro Manila, Hong Kong was such a beautiful, rich revelation, with an unwasted sort of buzzing energy buoying you from beneath its streets, and vestiges of its colonial past buried in towers of new beneath old beneath new.</div>
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I'm not sure I could ever capture it in photos, but I did try. (<i>Click pictures to view in large</i>)</div>
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<b>Day 1: First Impressions</b></div>
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I spent my first evening in Hong Kong wandering around the less touristy part (I think!) of the tourist district. The ladies' market with its neatly lined stalls of high fashion clothes and more granny panties than I knew could exist, the goldfish market with rows of plastic bags ballooned up to each hold a single fish inside, the flowers market and the songbird market, both of which I missed on this trip, and the noisy, well-oiled choreography of food vendors coursing through it all.</div>
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That first day there, I was taken by the ease with which old blended with new. All the world's best cities manifest elements of this in their own way, I suppose, but walking through central Kowloon, I got the distinct feeling of being transported through the decades, peeling a layer away at a time. The amalgam of colonial history and Asian heritage aside, the one thing that stood out to me was that -- if you go beyond the shiny harbour front high-rise corridor -- <i>Hong Kong doesn't make excuses for itself</i>. It doesn't try to be shinier or more glossy or plastic. Buildings are old, streets are narrow, and most businesses are still as heartwarmingly simple (fixed prices, tarpaulin roofs, contents packable onto the back of a motorised bike) as they have been for years, with great success. Shops and <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/cities/gallery/2014/apr/15/china-nail-houses-in-pictures-property-development">houses have withstood time and selling out to land developers</a>, markets are still held in rickety buildings according to the strict plan they were initially set up with -- seafood and meats on the ground floor, vegetables on the first, and a food court ('prepared foods centre') on the second. And everyone is just getting on with their day. </div>
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<i>Overpass, Ladies' Market, Mong Kok</i></div>
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<i>Peckings, Sham Shui Po</i></div>
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<i>Touristy Hong Kong, Sham Shui Po</i></div>
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<i>Aviary, Kowloon Park</i></div>
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I also found Kowloon Park on my first day, a sanctuary in the tourist hub of the city, with public swimming pools, tennis and squash courts and an aviary, all in the same park!<br />
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My host and I spent the evening looking out over Victoria Harbour from Ozone, the highest bar in the world, over some great conversation. No pictures though, because how could one possibly capture that?<br />
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<b>Day 2: Three quests, much soreness</b><br />
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<b>Quest #1: Search for the Walled Village</b><br />
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Hong Kong's walled villages are remnants of a time when Hong Kong was overrun by pirates, who understandably enjoyed the shelter and element of surprise that Hong Kong's hilly, winding landscape provided (as well as its delicious cuisine, presumably). To protect themselves from possible attacks, Punti and Hakka villagers built walls around their villages, and equipped themselves with cannons and lookouts.<br />
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On my second Day in HK, I went (or rather, <i>attempted</i>) to visit one of these villages, Tsang Tai Uk. The pictures below are in order of escape from city centre confines.<br />
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No public transport, ladies and gentlemen. Not this far out of the way.<br />
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Tsang Tai Uk's other name is Shan Ha Wai, which translates to 'Walled Village at Mountain's Foot'. Makes sense?<br />
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When I reached, I found the village's central shrine was closed for construction, with shrubs and too many 'No Entry' signs in all its alleys even for me to ignore. For one of the city's best-maintained walled villages, it certainly wasn't going to oblige any visitors today.<br />
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Maybe because it was a hot, humid day, or because it is in fact abandoned, the entire village was also deserted. In a city known for how well it manages to pack people into small spaces, the emptiness of my entire excursion, including the trip over there, gave the whole thing a very time-travel feel.<br />
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<b>Quest #2: Bride's Pool</b><br />
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While in Hong Kong, I also wanted to go hiking in the mountains. Having declared Quest #1 a partial fail, much research, many bus rides and a lot of walking brought me to Bride's Pool, where story has it that a bride fell in while being carried on a sedan during her wedding procession. Eerie, but beautiful.<br />
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The road (what I console myself by calling 'tarred hiking trail') to Bride's Pool went on for hours. No bus service, no taxis, no car pools, no bicycles. Just one foot in front of the other, mindlessly, for what seemed like foreverrr. Great hike.<br />
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I finally reached, though! Just before officially decreed closing time.<br />
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<i>Bride's Pool</i></div>
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<i>Waterfall, Bride's Pool</i></div>
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I lost a bag and a fair amount of peace of mind to this view, but gained a few friendly mozzie bites and bonded with a father and daughter over an orange on my way back. You win some...<br />
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<b>Quest #3: No real quests.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>Sometimes, nay, <i>most</i> times, it is the unplanned adventures that make the day.<br />
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On my way to Bride's Pool earlier in the day, I found myself at Tai Po's food court, eating delicious har gow (shrimp dumplings) with a hundred strangers at <a href="http://travel.cnn.com/hong-kong/eat/best-hong-kong-dim-sum-restaurants-674709/">one of the best dumpling stalls</a> in the city.<br />
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I also walked into the heart of old market in Tai Po, where this beautiful gem lay.</div>
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<i>Man Mo Temple, Fu Shin Street, Tai Po</i></div>
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The Man Mo temple was built by the Tsat Yeuk community over a hundred years ago to mark the opening of Tai Wo Shi (Tai Wo Market Town), now Tai Po Market. The temple was built to worship the god of literature (Man) and the martial god (Mo). In the middle of a busy marketplace on a hot day, I spent a dozy few minutes just watching its coils of incense flake ash. (Though I could've spent hours.)<br />
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Little blessings.<br />
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<b>Days 3 and 4:</b><br />
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I still hadn't hiked on the wild mountainous paths I had read about, and it was the weekend, so my host and I set out with two hundred other Hong Kongers on a walk through the mountains.<br />
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The climb was gentle, but it was the view that took my breath away. Fleets of clouds rolling in and out over the buildings, rows of papercut mountains in the background, planes landing on the water, and on the other side, so. much. green.<br />
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Later that evening, we rode up the much-hyped open-air, public escalators, walked around the fashionable parts of the city that I had successfully avoided till then (much more bearable with a friend), and I went for a swim in Kowloon Park's lovely public baths.<br />
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The next day, we went to the beach!<br />
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<i>Sand sculpting practice, Stanley Beach</i></div>
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<b>Day 5: Cha, marketing, and the best scrambled eggs in the world</b><br />
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A good cup of tea is a great way to start the day. I had my cup of milky Hong Kong tea (<i>Cha!</i>) on the top floor of a Tsim Sha Tsui food court, in the rare, quiet hour between the mahjongg ladies and the early lunchers. The camera and fabric markets were just about beginning to open, but the vegetable sellers were in full swing.</div>
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After much searching, and another failed quest, this time for Michelin-starred Tim Ho Wan's famous-but-affordable dim sum, I ended my last day in HK with another iconic Hong Kong meal; Australian Dairy Company's famous scrambled eggs on thick toast. Happiness.<br />
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As with all good travel, by the end of my trip, I felt completely rejuvenated.<br />
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On that note, I wish a very happy new year to you all. May much joy, love, learning and adventure find you this coming year. May you get enough rest, good food, and the very best of company to keep you healthy and in good spirits in the next few months. And if you haven't already, may you walk back in to work refreshed and rejuvenated in the next few days.<br />
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Oh, and go visit Hong Kong!</div>
Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-6268395402486036362015-12-15T19:44:00.001-05:002015-12-15T20:15:19.090-05:00"Eat your damn chilies, child"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Fish drowned in heaven-facing chilies</div>
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(you can't see the fish, you can't taste your tongue by the time you get to it either)</div>
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<i>The Spice Temple, Sydney, August 2014</i></div>
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Today, I found a photo I took over a year ago sitting in my drafts folder. So much has changed since then, but not the feeling that I should be less surprised by that thought.<br />
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On this day last year, I arrived in this country from my little wild corner at the end of the earth. Less than five months later, I left to go to rural Cambodia, without a concrete plan and just the faintest idea of who I was going to meet while I was there. My incentive? I was going to get my hands right into doing what I have wanted to since I was sixteen: fieldwork towards poverty alleviation. And I was going to get the hell out of this sanitised, bubble-wrapped suburgatory.<br />
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How things have turned around. I am right back here, by some mad chance, working in a place I am still trying to figure out whether I really believe in the virtues of.<br />
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I feel like at some point in the past couple years, I dove<i> right into</i> that bowl of sichuans pictured, because by the time I got to the bottom of it, I was unable to taste anything, my tongue numbed by the first touch of something seeking heaven.<br />
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In other words, sometimes things don't turn out as vividly or ideally as you pictured they could, or by the time you get to them, you have killed the tastebuds you would have needed to enjoy their full flavour. And that's okay! (The fish in question was mostly flavourless, and lay buried in an ocean of oil. Or maybe that's how I tasted it, who knows.)<br />
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Regardless, the extravagant spectacle of having an entire chef's garden of chilies brought to us and showcased and generally floo-flahed over by this expert waiter at one of Sydney's best restaurants, not to mention the novelty of the tongue-zinging chili itself, was probably worth it. You see, you have to know what you don't really care much for, just as much as you should know what <i>is </i>important.<br />
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It's part of growing up and all that.<br />
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So, as it's that time of year when you start to get reflective and thankful and all those goo-making things, I'll ask you something that I hope you can spare just a little bit of mindspace to think about.<br />
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<i>What has surprised you (pleasantly or not) or underwhelmed you in this phase of your life? What did you learn about yourself through it? And what will you take with you going forward?</i></blockquote>
Feel free to write me if you care to share. You know how to reach me (email, phone call, Facetime/Skype/Hangouts, instant message, whatever, however). Regardless of what you learn, remember that you have grown (and are continuing to learn!) a little bit more in this time of your life, as you have in others. You are wiser, braver, and you know a little bit more than you did before. And you are loved.<br />
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That's something to be glad for.<br />
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<i>Feliz Navidad</i>, my friend! And much love from Obama-city.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-6691125907452102452015-06-09T12:43:00.000-04:002015-06-09T22:21:41.665-04:00Meandering: A Post About Siem Reap<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Many of the enterprises we set up in our lives are temporary. We take hold of an idea, give in to a burst of inspiration, flow with it for a while, and just as easily let go of it when the meandering gets too much.<br />
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But some rivers find us again.<br />
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In the two months that I've been here, I've been working to develop the monitoring and evaluation framework for an agricultural microfinance programme, making sure that what we envision on paper is what we have on the ground. A conversation I had today reminded me of immensity of the task at hand. Who knows where the whole setup will stand in two years? Who knows whether we will have trained enough farmers and rolled out the microfinance project well enough to call ourselves a success? Is this organisation (and by dint of my involvement, am <i>I</i>) any better than the rest of the voluntourists who come in to 'developing' countries, throw their money or skills and some English lessons around, and then leave?<br />
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I hope so. I want to come back, I want to stay involved, and I hope I will be able to. Siem Reap is beautiful, and I have found much warmth in my time here (sometimes literally). Though I am most definitely a farang (or <i>barang</i>, as it is called in these parts), I find myself faced with curiosity rather than the blank animosity I felt sensitised to as a teenager growing up in Western Europe. "Ah, you're from Indieaaar" - cue endearing look - "Much of what's in Cambodia comes from India" (The religion, the claimed genetic makeup, and even the coconut trees). So there's that.<br />
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Then there's the food. I jest to my mother that I subsist on a diet of fish soup and rice, and to a large extent, that is true. Sam lor and baai for lunch. Sam lor and baai for dinner. It's a healthy existence. But there's also the fresh fruit (usually served with cries of "fresh from my farm!"), raw vegetables, fresh pickled salads, and hot red chilies in fish sauce that complete each meal. There's green rice noodle soup with light coconut broth, banana blossoms, mung bean sprouts and mint, basil and cucumber shavings (<i>nom banh chok</i>), rice paper rolls freshly packed with rice noodles, whole tiny shrimplings, shredded pork, wrapped in iceberg lettuce and topped with some nearly-not-intense-enough garlic and peanut sweet sauce (<i>nime chao</i>), yellow crepes filled with much of the same and served up with fresh, raw salad and more light sweet peanuty sauce (<i>banh chao</i>). And there's coffee. Oh, coffee. The best I've had it was in a market cafe in the Rolour village this weekend, seated on a very well-polished wood trunk watching Canadian boxing live on TV with a morning breakfast club of twenty-three men. The coffee was smooth, black and strong, served fresh over ice with half a can of condensed milk and a spoon to stir it all up with. Twenty-five cents for the lot. No wonder everyone is always smiling.<br />
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So like them all, I'm enjoying my time here, ambling the bylanes, finding smalltown marketplaces and poolsides to spend my weekday breaks at, and making friends with people I sometimes share maybe just fifty common words with. This past week, I've been sneaking in some last glimpses before I parcel myself up in a giant mechanical bird headed to Manila, filled with thoughts of the worth of my 'contribution' to the local agricultural scene in a village 27 km from Siem Reap city. Pangs-iety.</div>
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What about all this moving, then? In the seventy-odd days I've spent here, I've managed to flip my life 180° (cold to hot, world-renowned metropolis to the middle of a chicken farm somewhere, NY Fashion Week wardrobe inspiration to the more appropriate travel boho chic) and keep close tabs on myself through it all. Travel must be getting to my head.<br />
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But somewhere out there, there's a riverbank waiting.<br />
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<i>(Click on the photos to view in large!)</i></div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-68906316204460604742015-04-21T11:10:00.001-04:002015-04-26T04:25:04.922-04:00Silver Linings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Decades after they first met, my parents still manage to find a corner for a quick chat.<br />
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Congratulations on your 25th, M&D ♥️</div>
Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-60792490186186242952015-04-14T12:21:00.004-04:002015-04-14T12:42:02.053-04:00Adventures in Cambodge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Workers at a school building, Siem Reap</td></tr>
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So it happened. I moved to Cambodia. After nearly four months without a moment's pause in the centre of the universe (or so it would like to believe), I shifted base to New York's complete antithesis overnight.</div>
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Where do I even begin? Where New York is a rambunctious labyrinth of shiny landmarks, languages and -- especially on public transport -- extremely well-coordinated limbs, Siem Reap is a loose assortment of centuries-old temples, sunburnt tourists and well...'strongly scented' marketplaces, all housed in the distinctive, pervasive red dust of a country caught in its own smoke trail as it tries to move forward. It is perhaps the first time in my life that I don't speak a word of the local language (at least I didn't when I first moved here a couple weeks ago), and no one seems to understand what I previously thought was universal sign language; 'You', 'me', 'yes', 'no', 'eat', 'read', 'drink', 'home', 'money' and most of what is a given in other parts of the world. Needless to say, much is lost in translation.</div>
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Nevertheless, it is a great reminder that no one will understand you the way you want them to, only the way they want to. Great for my personal learning, but not as helpful for everyday life.</div>
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So I am trying. I am trying to learn Khmer. I am trying to expend less energy and drink more water to cope with more sun than I've seen in years. I am trying to quell my more vegetarian pangs and appreciate the flavour of meat/fermented fish in every. possible. dish. I am trying to walk slower, see things slower and more thorougly, regardless of whether that means I end up circling the same block twelve times a day (there is not really that much more to downtown Siem Reap). I am trying to desecrate my inhibitive (and probably well-founded) sense of self-preservation around non-human living beings so that I am not the laughing stock of the farm I spend most of my days on. And I am trying to find a place that makes me a decent iced soy latte.</div>
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I am constantly reminded that this kind of change, this kind of work is what I wanted, that this part of the world is where I come from, and that this experience, like life, is both a blessing and an opportunity, but mostly that it will be what I make of it.</div>
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Much of it could have come close to not happening. I signed a contract less than 18 hours before packing up my life in New York and shifting here. But I'm here, and I'm ready to take it on for the most part, I think. I have the best of friends to share it with, the wisdom of the ancients, the internet at my fingertips and so much love from every direction possible that it's hard not to be buoyed by it all.</div>
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So here's to more of doing the things I love and learning crazy amounts from it. Come join me on my travels, won't you?</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-82623544969910108962015-03-07T13:36:00.000-05:002015-03-10T14:21:21.174-04:00On Living Photography<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“<span style="font-family: inherit;">Many of us have photos of long ago birthdays or the predictable poses at graduations and weddings. But isn’t it the moments in between that capture the rawness of how we live?</span>”<br />
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<a href="http://yourshot.nationalgeographic.com/profile/551206/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Meredith Novario</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> on her children: “I want them to know how they looked to me,” she says. “I don’t want to tell them everything, I just want to show them what I saw. And from there, it can become their own open-ended story.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">From <a href="http://yourshotblog.nationalgeographic.com/post/112983976144/this-is-your-shot-calling-growing-up-foreign-dan" target="_blank">here</a>. (Photograph below is mine) </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bryant Park Carousel, Christmas 2014</td></tr>
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<i>(Click photo to view on black)</i></div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-55644942788679995292015-02-21T20:56:00.001-05:002015-02-21T20:56:24.450-05:00Sometimes the Sea<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"You know the thing I love best about this city?", someone asked me last night. He was a stranger but for that confession.<br />
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"The freedom? The feeling that you could do anything here? The glitz of the UN?", I ventured. We <i>were </i>talking in one of the most iconic of buildings in Midtown Manhattan, after all.<br />
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"The fact that you can take a train to the sea."<br />
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Well, there's that.<br />
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"For someone like me who comes from a landlocked country [Austria], it's amazing to me how I can sit down in the subway and just...emerge at the ocean."<br />
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Of all the things he liked about New York, that was one I would perhaps not think of immediately. So much of my life here in the past two months has been about the grangy towering metal and glass and what goes on within. That interspersed with lovely, lazy brunches and walks in bits and corners of the city. Oh, and snow. Endless snow. Easy then to forget that beyond this piece of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattan#Bedrock" target="_blank">solid metamorphic rock</a>, we are surrounded by so much more.<br />
<br />
But the sea always finds a way to travel with me, somehow. And with all the moving I've done over this year, I might as well be floating on some (cold) current around the world's oceans. Water meets water meets water, right?<br />
<br />
Still, blame winter and the clouded over skies, or just plain old inertia, I realised I haven't paid homage to the sea since I got here. So here's a picture from the city I left it in last. It's not the sea, but it's so close, I can almost smell it.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rETg5M0H7hk/VOkw_Y2dz7I/AAAAAAAADOU/4vzWi7zGK7s/s1600/IMG_8630%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rETg5M0H7hk/VOkw_Y2dz7I/AAAAAAAADOU/4vzWi7zGK7s/s1600/IMG_8630%2Bcopy.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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How's that for sea-rious yearning? I'll send you a picture postcard when I make it to the shore.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-16553950985723826632015-01-03T21:56:00.000-05:002015-01-04T08:59:03.796-05:00On Understanding and Finding Your Flow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy new year, you! Wherever you are, I hope this year ushers in a host of little lovelies, whether you can see them immediately or not. I also hope you on your part find a way to fill this year with wonder, memorable moments, and love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mih53Gdrftg/VKiq-6PoFWI/AAAAAAAADME/mFgZL2ep7OM/s1600/IMG_9445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mih53Gdrftg/VKiq-6PoFWI/AAAAAAAADME/mFgZL2ep7OM/s1600/IMG_9445.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter flowers on the Highline</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I could say lots more, but I'm going to let Ms Popova from Brainpickings help me with that today. In response to (and in support of) Greek philosopher Philo's maxim: <i>"Be kind, for everyone you meet is carrying a great burden",</i> she quotes an extract from surgeon Sherwin Nuland's conversation with radio show host Krista Tippett,</span></div>
<blockquote style="font-stretch: normal; font-style: italic; text-align: left;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"<span style="font-style: italic;">When you recognize that pain – and response to pain – is a universal thing, it helps explain so many things about others, just as it explains so much about yourself. It teaches you forbearance. It teaches you a moderation in your responses to other people's behavior. It teaches you a sort of understanding. It essentially tells you what everybody needs. You know what everybody needs? You want to put it in a single word?</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Everybody needs to be understood.</span><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">And out of that comes every form of love.</span><span style="background-color: transparent;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">If someone truly feels that you understand them, an awful lot of neurotic behavior just disappears – disappears on your part, disappears on their part. So if you're talking about what motivates this world to continue existing as a community, you've got to talk about love... And my argument is it comes out of your biology because on some level we understand all of this. We put it into religious forms. It's almost like an excuse to deny our biology. We put it into pithy, sententious aphorisms, but it's really coming out of our deepest physiological nature."</span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
Perhaps this is the greatest message of all. <i>Be kind. Show some understanding. </i>The ocean of life is so expansive; sometimes you're ebbing peacefully into clear skies, sometimes you're being tossed into the eye of a storm. (Though you know what they say about the eye of the storm) You just have to roll with it. Watch the waves go by. And dive into them when the time is right.<br />
<br />
In other words, you have to find your flow. Find it, make it, melt into it.<br />
<br />
That way, by the time you reach the shore, you are at peace with the wave that brought you there.<br />
<br />
Have a good one, everyone! </div>
Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-56108574335475444612014-12-24T23:44:00.000-05:002014-12-25T01:15:25.978-05:00In Defense of Magic and the Blog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Iye5trMPWA/VJuTLrkvDVI/AAAAAAAADLg/2GfL8_TFTBA/s1600/IMG_9374-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Iye5trMPWA/VJuTLrkvDVI/AAAAAAAADLg/2GfL8_TFTBA/s1600/IMG_9374-5.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas in transit - Hong Kong International Airport, ca. 5 am</td></tr>
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<br />
Merry Christmas to you all! Here's a tiny quote I wanted to share with you when I saw it.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I am alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit... What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods?"<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
- <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/2014/11/17/thoreau-walking/" target="_blank">Henry David Thoreau, <i>Walking</i></a></div>
</blockquote>
</div>
I hope this season finds you and your family well. I know a lot has happened in recent months, so I am glad if you are getting some downtime to relax, travel, or be with family (or all three!). Wherever you are, I hope that you also get to fully be there in spirit. Bless you.<br />
<br />
I don't know if you noticed, but for a brief period a couple months ago, I pulled this blog down. I felt it had had a good run, but it was time to move on. Call it 'executive action' if you want (a joke that seemed adequately current when I first started writing this post).<br />
<br />
But the thing is, where would I be without my blog? Without my little corner of the interwebs? Without a small piece of my very own virtual space while I'm still looking for a real-world one. This blog started as a way for me to record the little moments, the grand directions, and the minor revelations...<i> </i><b>the magic</b>, in other words, that I encountered in my everyday life.<br />
<br />
I hope it will continue to do so. Because without a place where I can be thankful and share it with the people I love, I would just be moving through life without really being there in spirit. And that is quite a sad thing. So I'm keeping the blog up.<br />
<br />
On that note, here's the tiny Christmas message I'd like to repeat to all of you for these next few days and for the many, many more to come: <i>be where you are when you're there</i>. Be one with what's happening in your life. Share the joy of it all with those around (or those you'd like to surround) you. There's a lot to be said for believing in the magic of the world, so take a moment also to be grateful for all that you have. (In the words of my four-year-old cousin, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-jim-taylor/gratitude-get-what-you-ge_b_614233.html" target="_blank">"get what you get, and don't get upset"</a>.)<br />
<br />
On my part, I have been through a few highs and lows this year, one of which almost resulted in me pulling this blog down forever. And while I will continue to focus some of my energies on the bigger projects I want to achieve (photo-essays and other published work), I'm keeping the blog right where it is. It's my happy place; a place that reminds me of the magic, the blessings, and all the love in my life. So if it has ever brought even the smallest of smiles to any of you, I feel I have accomplished so much more than I set out to. Cheers to that, and a very happy 2015 to you!<br />
<br /></div>
Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-76192037754574468452014-08-14T01:09:00.001-04:002014-08-14T05:00:48.893-04:00When the universe speaks, listen!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Day one of official job search, and I get this in the mail.<br />
<br />
It's a sign! I am meant to be a "unique, mystical underwater creature".<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uRb_cmhSTlw/U-xEVugygBI/AAAAAAAAC-8/GC7Ff_P9sI8/s1600/IMG_4403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uRb_cmhSTlw/U-xEVugygBI/AAAAAAAAC-8/GC7Ff_P9sI8/s1600/IMG_4403.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9c9A2Q1rMDo/U-x6mQ4ag-I/AAAAAAAAC_M/HJ1prMEyoZI/s1600/IMG_4408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9c9A2Q1rMDo/U-x6mQ4ag-I/AAAAAAAAC_M/HJ1prMEyoZI/s1600/IMG_4408.JPG" width="800" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
And I have the best lot of friends ever, <i>non</i>?<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-55196235028175528152014-07-04T02:00:00.002-04:002014-07-26T01:36:05.188-04:00Control, acceptance and what lies in between<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Control.<br />
<br />
We seek it in the crevices, we seek it in the clouds. A search for the semblance of order in our lives, an unwitting attempt for the pieces to fall into the places we create for them. Routines of order, routines of disorder. Habits.<br />
<br />
But life is not that ordered, and we are not dominos. We will not collapse if things are out of place, or if there is no definite end in sight. And we cannot ceaselessly exert influence over things that are outside us. People, places, events, the weather. They aren't radio stations that can be tuned to perfection. The random static of the universe will always remain in the background. <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/janna_levin_the_sound_the_universe_makes">Scientists have been listening to it for years</a>. Things will work out without your meddling. You are powerful and responsible for your own actions.<br />
<br />
But you are not God. And you are definitely not the earth's axis. The world won't stop spinning if your mind is at rest.<br />
<br />
Maybe that's my learning for this first quarter of my life. Maybe that's my learning for the parent I hope to eventually become. My learning for a worry-free life. Learn to let go, give a little, let things rest and they'll turn out all right.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
In other words, <i>learn to have faith</i>.</div>
<br />
Where does this come from? I'm writing my thesis, which is code for a nicely-formatted novella that maybe two people will read -- if I'm lucky. I've just flown to the end of the earth on a ticket with no return date. I'm firmly in-between things and have been for a while. And between this month and (hopefully) the next I have to successfully look for, apply for, and get accepted for a job, which means I have to at least attempt to categorise my life into neat little boxes for a disgruntled HR employee somewhere.<br />
<br />
So many factors to account for, so many things that are out of my control...the twenties are uncertainty at their best. Something about having too many choices and feeling like you are responsible for owning them all.<br />
<br />
But I have to remind myself it's temporary. That things will work out. That the fog will lift. It always lifts.<br />
<br />
It's like <strike>my supervisor</strike> a wise and very kind man told me recently. Looking me in the eye, he said in the voice I would imagine God (or Morgan Freeman with a cold) to have, "You'll do all right. In life, I mean."<br />
<br />
And then he smiled that smile that always makes me wonder whether he means it or he's just having a good laugh.<br />
<br />
But I'm sure I will be all right eventually. And so will you, all of you. Whatever your present set of worries might be. Have faith.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
It's what lies in between <i>(refer title)</i>.</div>
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<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>----------------------------------------</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>PS: This post initially started off with reference to this set of pictures below, and was intended to be a sort of reminder to all you parents (or parents-to-be) to let your kids run amok a little. They'll figure their way out.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>As you can see, what comes from the heart often finds its way sooner into words than you think. But let's pretend for a second that this below is what this post is really about. I'll save you the excess of words for this part, though. Only the excess, though. So, a word about what I think parenting is -- from a non-parent.</i><br />
<br />
Parenting is about...<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CzuxttgtkGY/U7YREuoilkI/AAAAAAAAC5I/nOJZ8_yAucI/s1600/IMG_2604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CzuxttgtkGY/U7YREuoilkI/AAAAAAAAC5I/nOJZ8_yAucI/s1600/IMG_2604.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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standing behind your children</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qWAJTCiX50A/U7YQ78syeYI/AAAAAAAAC44/8FEO0y5WBk8/s1600/IMG_2600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qWAJTCiX50A/U7YQ78syeYI/AAAAAAAAC44/8FEO0y5WBk8/s1600/IMG_2600.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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maybe even boosting them up,</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sV-WnIO7cJE/U7YQ8tuvxeI/AAAAAAAAC5A/sNuUQZPuNiI/s1600/IMG_2575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sV-WnIO7cJE/U7YQ8tuvxeI/AAAAAAAAC5A/sNuUQZPuNiI/s1600/IMG_2575.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
but mostly just letting them splash around (in spiderman wellies)</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sjShcx_5Fts/U7YRRqrHMnI/AAAAAAAAC5g/buMReN7_d20/s1600/IMG_2610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sjShcx_5Fts/U7YRRqrHMnI/AAAAAAAAC5g/buMReN7_d20/s1600/IMG_2610.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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letting them weave their paths</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQGkZt_tc5k/U7YSJByzXWI/AAAAAAAAC5o/zzdh0eSlHc4/s1600/IMG_2598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQGkZt_tc5k/U7YSJByzXWI/AAAAAAAAC5o/zzdh0eSlHc4/s1600/IMG_2598.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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and climb</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jV4C1LX9WCw/U7ZCQmChNwI/AAAAAAAAC6I/i1NkX-GSF4E/s1600/IMG_2618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jV4C1LX9WCw/U7ZCQmChNwI/AAAAAAAAC6I/i1NkX-GSF4E/s1600/IMG_2618.JPG" width="800" /></a></div>
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on their own, to the top.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(If you let them, your little chickies will climb out from beneath your shadow and into the sun.<br />
They'll gather their courage, wits and will,</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DqjZaQQj2u0/U7YRNw7ySfI/AAAAAAAAC5Y/YsO4eyy0Ko4/s1600/IMG_2629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DqjZaQQj2u0/U7YRNw7ySfI/AAAAAAAAC5Y/YsO4eyy0Ko4/s1600/IMG_2629.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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they'll build their wings</div>
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for flight.*)</div>
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<br />
* This holds true for parents from children too! Life lessons from Nanya, for Nanya. Hah.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-89122980792184377462014-06-22T12:16:00.002-04:002014-06-22T12:16:31.069-04:00Emus, Cockatoos, Kangaroos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm in a land of weird and wonderful things. There are trees I have never seen before, birds I've never heard before, and turns of phrase I don't think I'll ever quite understand. But I'm home again and at least here, (some) things are just the same.<br />
<br />
The landscape is different though. A few miles away from home lies this vast expanse of ocean.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-msaRNckLN6U/U6b4gZA25aI/AAAAAAAAC3s/0w01vxtSr54/s1600/IMG_2298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-msaRNckLN6U/U6b4gZA25aI/AAAAAAAAC3s/0w01vxtSr54/s1600/IMG_2298.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">It's winter here, mind you, but as my sister reminds me everyday, "the sun is strong!".</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
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<br />
So strong.<br />
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It hasn't changed that much over the years...<br />
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...and it isn't so far from paradise. Hello, Australia!<br />
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-83358554795379857512014-06-10T13:18:00.002-04:002014-06-10T17:14:24.059-04:00On learning to drink coffee and other things<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Allow yourself the uncomfortable luxury of changing your mind", I read this morning <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/11/11/dani-shapiro-still-writing-2/">here</a> and <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/10/23/7-lessons-from-7-years/">here</a>.<br />
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It makes sense. If change itself is inevitable, then the change within must be as well, if only as a progression or reactionary process. For one, I have recently begun drinking coffee, a drink I have firmly stood against for most of my life (for reasons of unbased loyalty towards a good old cup of Darjeeling tea).<br />
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This seems minor to you, but it comes from deep stirrings within a sea of change.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I have always loved the smell of coffee, for obvious reasons. Nothing can be more comforting on a rainy day. But I have never taken to drinking it. Like, actually, really enjoying it. Something about a childhood distaste for milk and a general absence of anything but instant coffee in the environs. But almost as hard as I've tried to keep myself away from what I perceived to be a yuppie obsession with tall, extravagant, caffeinated drinks, I just as easily re-discovered the warm, gentle feeling of satisfaction I got from a good cup of coffee somewhere along the course of this year. Milk steamed just right, espresso poured over, and a single cookie to nibble on while you wait for it to cool. Not difficult at all to grow into this feeling of luxury, one cup at a time. To grow into, in other words, the idea that I <i>do</i> deserve good things. That I <i>do</i> deserve to treat myself. That my world won't implode if I give to myself as much as I sometimes find myself giving to others.<br />
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Seems simple, right?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Making the simple things special:</i> an espresso macchiato, for me with love.</td></tr>
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A lot has changed for me in the past few months, and I'm sure a lot will change in the coming ones. In as positive ways, hopefully. In ways that will take me closer to that eternal, infernal, unfindable goal of living a self-actualised life. And yet not quite get me there, because where would we be if we stopped searching, changing, moulding ourselves and our preferences?<br />
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Not so far from where we started, that's what.</div>
Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-4628603590248400482014-04-24T04:54:00.000-04:002014-04-24T04:54:12.612-04:00Not Azure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Just liking being sure.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-19014389756573146312014-04-13T07:26:00.002-04:002020-01-17T00:53:55.917-05:00How I Became the Salad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Rice noodle, apple-cucumber morning glory salad</i></div>
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<i>(aka RAM Salad - for reasons that will be explained later)</i></div>
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This salad is my present. Just a simple, seven-minute <i>assemblage</i> of the things from my kitchen shelves. But that could be a direct metaphor for my life; where everything comes together at once, and every experience carries at least a little bit of all the moments that have come before it. So let me take you through it, because I know you're dying (or at least mildly feigning interest) to know why I would compare my life to a salad.</div>
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First, the general motivations:</div>
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<li>I had three baby apples and one very excellent cucumber lying in front of me, pleading to be <strike>pulped</strike> <strike>squeezed</strike> used. How could I not?</li>
<li>It was time for Sunday morning brunch -- easily the best meal of the week -- and I was need of something that didn't involve just muesli, fruit and yoghurt (my breakfast of choice for the past <i>seven</i> years).</li>
<li>I'd been dreaming about Taiwanese cold noodle salad since Friday. It is now Sunday. 36 hours is <i>too long</i> to be dreaming about food that takes ten minutes to make.</li>
<li>Plus, I hadn't sent my family a picture of my food for a whole 12 hours to assure them I wasn't starving.</li>
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Next, how it came to be.</div>
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For said salad, you need noodles, cucumber, carrots, garlic, sesame oil & seeds, sugar and a whole bunch other stuff (a version of the recipe can be found <a href="http://www.eatingchina.com/recipes/cold-noodles.htm">here</a>). Just the thought of all those flavours always takes me back to a very happy place in the kitchen of a French village where my ex-boyfriend's mother first made this for us. Buuut, I refuse to follow recipes to the tee, plus I had these lovely fresh vegetables just waiting to jump into whatever I made next, so whatever comes next is inspired by what I ate that day, but not an exact reproduction.</div>
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It is however, like most human experience, authentic.</div>
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It also uses one of my favourite green things in the world; <i>kangkung</i>, aka morning glory. This looks a bit like bamboo leaves and tastes like all the goodness in Sri Lanka when stir-fried with garlic, chillies and dried Maldivian fish. Or even just with garlic, as my friend Julia and the lady at the Asian store jointly emphasised. A little bit of morning glory for my morning.</div>
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So here's what I did.</div>
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<li>First, I grated a quarter of the cucumber and an apple and set it aside.</li>
<li>In a wok, I flash-stir-fried some kangkung and a few broken up heads of broccoli with the thick stem grated in so it would cook quickly and evenly. Then, I threw in a generous fistful of brown rice vermicelli and a mug of water. You could use regular spaghetti-type noodles for a more robust dish.When most of the water had steamed off on high heat (about three minutes), I grated some garlic on top. You can use carrots, mushrooms, pretty much any stir-friable vegetable you like here. Likewise for soy-sauce marinated chicken/pork if it takes your fancy.</li>
<li>I then mixed in some oyster sauce (feel free to use soy, sesame oil, peanut butter, lemon, sweet vinegar or all of these), lifted some out into a plate, and topped it with the grated cucumber and apple and their residual water. The cucumber water made it just a little more pliable and the apple made it both sweet and tart without having to add lemon and sugar. Win!</li>
<li>I dusted some sesame and onion seeds on top for crunch. You could also add peanuts, sunflower seeds or whatever you want. Whether you choose to eat this cold or warm, add the crunchy stuff at the last moment!</li>
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As you can see, it's a pretty adjustable, substitutable recipe that can be as ingredient-heavy or light as you like.<b> Like life, it's what you make of it.</b> Every ingredient in this recipe takes me back to some place in my life when I was legitimately the teenager I have felt I was every day of this past week. I'm 100% sure yours, if you make it, will look different.</div>
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Maybe I should call this Random Access Memory Salad instead.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-72190807352580940182014-02-25T06:51:00.000-05:002014-03-15T08:17:30.785-04:00Sparks Will Fly: The dark and magical world of steel manufacturing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Refeatured from <a href="http://thescribbler.co.in/r/530b1e8880ac9700000e365c/sparks-will-fly-the-dark-and-magical-world-of-steel-manufacturing">The Scribbler</a></i><br />
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(Any mistakes are mine!)</div>
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India's railway system was built on iron ore brought in from Middlesborough, England in the mid-19th century. Today, most of the iron and coal used in the railways comes from within India, processed in small factories like my grand uncle's. Here's a look at what goes on inside one of them.<br />
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Many of these factories are not mammoth structures far away in the suburbs, but small enterprises set up in forgotten nooks in the city. They have stood there, unchanged for years. And except for the thick, dark smoke billowing from them, you'd never know they were there.<br />
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We take a ride to one of them owned by my grand-uncle in Jalandhar.</div>
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When we reach, iron ore extraction is in full steam. It's been cool outside because of the rains, but as soon as we enter the factory, we are hit by an unending sauna of smoke-steam and the collective vaporising sweat of the twenty-odd men who work there. They do this all day, every day.<br />
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My grand-uncle explains to us the runnings of the plant - a pipe-manufacturing unit he has run for over thirty years. The process is far from the sanitised, white coat assembly line process we're used to seeing on the Discovery Channel. And I have to remind myself that the process of taking something from the earth is not quite pristine.<br />
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First, the iron ore is extracted from the ground. The molten ore is purified by smelting it with coal in a blast furnace, and the impurities are filtered off as slag.</div>
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To aid the process of smelting, large lumps of coal are sieved briskly through a mesh. The coal dust that gathers is melted with the iron in a blast furnace to purify it.</div>
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The purified ore, which is dense but not quite strong, is then cooled to carry to an oxygenating furnace, where the addition of oxygen will turn it into steel.</div>
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Most of the workers here are weekly wage earners. Their contracts mean that they earn relatively low wages for long, hard physical labour. It is too warm for body-covering uniform, but labour laws don't require them to wear protective covering, and when asked, they refuse it anyway. The absence of stringent laws and such industry-wide practices mean that as in most of South Asia, labour here is cheap, at a grim cost to their own health.</div>
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The oxygenating furnace is manned by a boy who carefully monitors the temperature inside the furnace and feeds cool iron ore in to temper the mixture. It is part science, part art.</div>
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He uses his hands to tell the temperature of the furnace, knowing just when to stop, start, and add more ore.</div>
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As the oxygen is introduced, sparks fly. But he doesn't flinch. It's business as usual around here.</div>
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He pours the now molten steel into a vat.</div>
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The purified molten steel is then poured into moulds to cool into pipes.</div>
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These are then unmoulded, collected, and sent off for finishing. Workers are paid according to the weight of the pieces they process, so time spent sitting and waiting is usually a luxury. Here, however, he has to wait till the next batch comes in before he can move the pieces over.</div>
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In the finishing room, the pieces are first trimmed broadly, then passed on to the final finisher.</div>
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The final finisher then runs each piece through a blade and polishing system to take off any rough edges, then throws them in a box with the others. The room is lit by a single lightbulb, but he has passed enough pieces to not really need to see what he is doing.</div>
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The piece is finally complete.</div>
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<i>A final word:</i> there are many factories like one this all over India. My grand-uncle has run his for thirty years and though business is running well, he tells us that the process itself hasn't changed quickly. Nor have the legal industrial safety and well-being requirements. Factory workers earn decently compared to other industries, but aren't unionised enough to be aware of, or call for change in these regulations.</div>
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Soon, his son will take over the factory fully, and India's newly elected government will be more interested in employment laws. </div>
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Hopefully, more change is swiftly on its way.</div>
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<a href="http://scribbler.s3.amazonaws.com/issue4/Nanya/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://scribbler.s3.amazonaws.com/issue4/Nanya/8.jpg" height="600" /></a></div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-50517433453613959212014-02-16T15:06:00.002-05:002014-02-16T15:11:47.847-05:00The truth is...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mbut5ufubLM/UwEZXvVRTAI/AAAAAAAACyQ/x_J4I893xCY/s1600/IMG_3985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mbut5ufubLM/UwEZXvVRTAI/AAAAAAAACyQ/x_J4I893xCY/s1600/IMG_3985.jpg" width="800" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i>Paraphrased and sewn up from <a href="https://medium.com/life-learning/2a1841f1335d">here</a>:</i><br />
<br />
In this game called life, you don’t stand a chance if you choose not to try. If you are afraid to embrace your true self for fear of how the world will see you. If you are unwilling to ask if it’s all a lie, and accept the possibility that maybe, the methods of mass media are under direct orders to keep you distracted. If you do not ask enough questions, do not question authority and do not question yourself. If you cannot bring yourself escape the comfort of your mediocrity.<br />
<br />
Because smart is not what you learn, it’s how you live. And if you could learn to handle the truth, you would become an instant addict. Then you would see; then you would know that the only thing holding you back from doing something truly amazing, is you.<br />
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Have a great week, everyone!</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-45251569039068651682014-01-27T06:51:00.001-05:002014-01-27T06:51:39.476-05:00Finding Neverland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Pictures from Mont Pèlerin, Vevey and Gruyères</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4giwPAm1fh8/UuWMc4y6ZRI/AAAAAAAACwg/AxHe3NVIz5M/s1600/IMG_9106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4giwPAm1fh8/UuWMc4y6ZRI/AAAAAAAACwg/AxHe3NVIz5M/s1600/IMG_9106.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Is this real? -</i> At the Mirador Kempinski, Mont Pèlerin</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u3z79Fn5azo/UuYomZvN6wI/AAAAAAAACww/uZRmCDZQOfA/s1600/IMG_9210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u3z79Fn5azo/UuYomZvN6wI/AAAAAAAACww/uZRmCDZQOfA/s1600/IMG_9210.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A view to wake up to </i>- from<i> </i>Mont Pèlerin</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdMotcVCWFw/UuYqLNbegpI/AAAAAAAACxA/rQ_F6vZSYCU/s1600/IMG_9171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdMotcVCWFw/UuYqLNbegpI/AAAAAAAACxA/rQ_F6vZSYCU/s1600/IMG_9171.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the Chateau de Gruyères</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YDXvJBZGsnA/UuWMTSeP9VI/AAAAAAAACwI/c-5qQjrVuRA/s1600/IMG_9345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YDXvJBZGsnA/UuWMTSeP9VI/AAAAAAAACwI/c-5qQjrVuRA/s1600/IMG_9345.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Far over the misty mountains cold"</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n54_r8hUnS4/UuWMbh0zfqI/AAAAAAAACwU/xA9Osgx7e4U/s1600/IMG_9319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n54_r8hUnS4/UuWMbh0zfqI/AAAAAAAACwU/xA9Osgx7e4U/s1600/IMG_9319.jpg" width="800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fork in the lake!</td></tr>
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I wish I never grow up.<br />
<br />
Not because of I'm afraid of commitments and responsibilities, but because I never want to stop seeing things the way I have seen them as a child. Fresh and full of colour.<br />
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As I've gotten older, I have spent a sufficient amount of time fearing that the more I see the world, the less affected I am becoming by it. I feel that growing up is like alcohol. It slows down your reflexes, makes your head fuzzy and makes you numb to what's around you. As you see yet another new city, climb up a new mountain or even just walk down the same road you've walked down for the past four months, things can quickly lose their shiny newness and become same ol', same ol'.<br />
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And that sucks.<br />
<br />
So while this post carries glimpses of the grand views I saw in Montreux, Vevey and Gruyères, it's also a gentle reminder to myself -- and to you, my dear reader -- to never stop noticing all the wonder around you and to keep interacting with the world. Sometimes, it's just about picking up a shell to take back with you from the beach, talking to someone new in your broken rendition of their language in a foreign country, or even just taking a photograph of wherever you are to remind you of the feeling of being there then. There's something very revealing to yourself about what you choose to carry forth with you. And what you choose to leave behind.<br />
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And that is part of growing up too.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-46678788172392952232014-01-21T02:31:00.000-05:002014-01-21T02:31:02.459-05:00Pssst! The secret isn't yet out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm writing this on a Sunday afternoon, but by the time this is posted, my dad will safely be on a flight to Geneva, unaware that he will see my kooky face staring up at him out of a car seat at the airport when he lands.<br />
<br />
If we can keep the surprise till then, that is. I have a feeling the echo of an airline ticket receipt might have shown up in his inbox sometime last week. Plus, we're not very good at keeping secrets in our circle of family and friends. Everyone but him is in the know, and they've all been instructed to keep it 'top secret'.<br />
<br />
For now though, we're safe. So let's move on, shall we?<br />
<br />
Since Friday night, I've been in Geneva. Having moved around a lot ("you're just a plant in a pot", my Russian physics teacher would remark), a struggling motif through my glowing up years has been the idea of home. For me, as for most people with my background, the idea of home is not the immutable object that comes easily to some people. Home is not where I'm from, because I've never lived there. Home is not any <i>one</i> of the cities I've lived in, it's all of them. In the absence of adults and household cues to provide familiarity and milestones for growing up, I feel more and more that the cities I've lived in have taken on that role. And my personal landmarks within them are like a giant circle of wise trees dangling their branches over me protectively in the middle of a forest. And among those many city-tree-circles (have I lost you yet?), the City of Calvin has mentored me at perhaps one of the most important times in my life. It's the city in which I first learnt how it feels to be in love. So every street crossing, every park, and especially every <i>entree interdite</i> sign has long guarded unwhispered anecdotes for me. But I don't think I realised just how much every piece of Geneva is a part of me till I came back.<br />
<br />
Pieces of the Geneva <i>I </i>knew, that is. I've only had the chance to walk around for a couple hours in the city since I came, but things feel just the same, in a wholly uplifting way. When I was seventeen, the world was a lot brighter and somewhat more cheerfully vitriolic. I was braver, I think. Spunkier. I climbed over fences a whole lot. The best summers of my life were spent in Geneva, (far from all the gloom of my socially awkward yesteryears) with my two best friends, lots of sunshine, and the occasional bottle of sake. When you're that age and with the right people, the world is limitless.<br />
<br />
So it feels very safe to be back. It's home. Things are the same always, even if they're different. And the relationship between you and your city is mutual and unconditional. You love it even with its quirks. And it loves you right back.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Anyway, enough sappy stuff. Now for what I've been up to since I got here. A little bit of context?<br />
<br />
First and foremost, <i>before</i> I even got here, two families were fighting over me. "You're spending Friday night with us, half of Saturday and Sunday with them, and then Monday with us again", I was informed. "We've spoken to your mother." So that was decided, then. Thanks for asking me, folks. Of course, there's the wonderful fact that both these families have known me since I was knee-high. Lots of history, too many embarrassing stories, and the instant comfort of being around people who've probably seen you at the squishiest, most loveable you'll ever be. And then there's the fooood and the fact that I can swim everyday (at a pool that plays the best of the nineties) and get ravenous enough to demolish it all. Between all this attention, I haven't had a moment to breathe, and I love it!<br />
<br />
So far, I've...<br />
<br />
1) Eaten a matcha dorayaki to celebrate my love of green things AND discovered yet new streets in areas I've walked through for four years. It's a city of so many surprises.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HkDH532nHz4/UtxrdzftgXI/AAAAAAAACt0/RvSjgicJoOs/s1600/IMG_8863.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HkDH532nHz4/UtxrdzftgXI/AAAAAAAACt0/RvSjgicJoOs/s1600/IMG_8863.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This counts as green things, right?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b1bSQIjvDno/Utxrd4fpB4I/AAAAAAAACt4/WRUKBRqYMec/s1600/IMG_8867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b1bSQIjvDno/Utxrd4fpB4I/AAAAAAAACt4/WRUKBRqYMec/s1600/IMG_8867.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I swear, I haven't seen as many tailors and laundrettes in my entire stay here as I saw on Saturday.</td></tr>
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2) Eaten a DELICIOUS South Indian lunch with a hundred and seventeen dishes and apricot halva for dessert. I can't post pictures <strike>because of security reasons</strike> because they'll make me droool.<br />
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3) Witnessed a tooth breaking and a very happy 8.5 year old.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5PIUNHnOQis/Utxrdzrc2VI/AAAAAAAACt8/t-6F50NYxGo/s1600/IMG_8886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5PIUNHnOQis/Utxrdzrc2VI/AAAAAAAACt8/t-6F50NYxGo/s1600/IMG_8886.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The tooth-fairy is bringing me a Nintendo D5 for this!" (Very closely mentioned in the vicinity of Mummy. Mummy didn't flinch this time, good on her.)</td></tr>
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4) Been impressed with the scope of said 8.5 year old's music taste. Everything from Pharell (Happiness) to Skrillex (Bangarang). Kids these days? Making twenty-somethings feel like teenagers all over the world.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNpyJbfBGuE/Utxre8NKcVI/AAAAAAAACuI/emk1byDf9eo/s1600/IMG_8887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNpyJbfBGuE/Utxre8NKcVI/AAAAAAAACuI/emk1byDf9eo/s1600/IMG_8887.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just gettin' my jams on.</td></tr>
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<br />
5) Played indoor football with said 8.5 year old ("Mom says it's okay as long as we don't break the glass") AND scored roughly four times more goals. In a dress. Though to be fair, he did say he was going to take it easy on me.<br />
<br />
6) Collapsed on the floor immediately afterwards, gazed up at the ceiling, played some video games and chatted about life, the universe and everything. Ask him the answer to that and he will now proudly inform you it's 42. (Well played, me.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wtS652B4VGM/UtxrfjNadnI/AAAAAAAACuQ/rg9jgkUof6I/s1600/IMG_8891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wtS652B4VGM/UtxrfjNadnI/AAAAAAAACuQ/rg9jgkUof6I/s1600/IMG_8891.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"This is such a <i>cool</i> game, Naniaaa. Why have you never played it?"<br />
"Because I don't play video games"<br />
"Then why do you have it on your phone?"<br />
"Because I thought I might play it someday"<br />
"Then why don't you play it?"<br />
"I don't play video games"<br />
"Then why do you have it on your phone?"<br />
"Because...oh, I dunno, my eight-year-old friends borrow my phone sometimes and they like to play with it."</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOYlnUmNVow/Utxrf6dyrqI/AAAAAAAACuY/QxX8DnKUzjE/s1600/IMG_8894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOYlnUmNVow/Utxrf6dyrqI/AAAAAAAACuY/QxX8DnKUzjE/s1600/IMG_8894.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From this angle, the world is a happy place.</td></tr>
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7) Went to dinner with one of my favourite almost-aunts, and the only person I thought I wouldn't be able to meet on this trip.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qoBBqVwaEGg/Utxt6ftsVJI/AAAAAAAACvk/hpVnEcSv-bI/s1600/IMG_8923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qoBBqVwaEGg/Utxt6ftsVJI/AAAAAAAACvk/hpVnEcSv-bI/s1600/IMG_8923.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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8) Ate the best homefood possible that night and missed my mother to bits. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jX0VB21eiRE/Utxrg5QNM0I/AAAAAAAACuk/dikgfz8qW5A/s1600/IMG_8900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jX0VB21eiRE/Utxrg5QNM0I/AAAAAAAACuk/dikgfz8qW5A/s1600/IMG_8900.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaajar matar, aloo gobhi, rajma, coconut fish curry, and the most tender, flavourful tandoori chicken I've had in a while. This is food cooked with love.</td></tr>
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<br />
9) Put my buddy to bed, something I haven't done in four years and woke up to find him nestled in the nook of my arm, just as he used to four years ago.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tbxaokf09ZA/Utxt6ZGfs-I/AAAAAAAACvg/SjhvHa1o9AY/s1600/IMG_8932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tbxaokf09ZA/Utxt6ZGfs-I/AAAAAAAACvg/SjhvHa1o9AY/s1600/IMG_8932.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">D'aww</td></tr>
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10) Went the usual amount of mad, got to know these a little better, and therefore (obviously) regained my clarity of vision.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-57aQ29iGdmM/UtxrhLaIn4I/AAAAAAAACuo/gnqxad2SYgI/s1600/IMG_8934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-57aQ29iGdmM/UtxrhLaIn4I/AAAAAAAACuo/gnqxad2SYgI/s1600/IMG_8934.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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11) Watched popcorn pop in a test tube. For those of you who've never done this with a young'un, you have no idea what you're missing. Instant babysitter, given that you're all right with them handling matches, hot test tubes and knives, as is evident.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MnlsklRrU2Q/Utxrhuch43I/AAAAAAAACuw/3Yb6McdxQmU/s1600/IMG_8942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MnlsklRrU2Q/Utxrhuch43I/AAAAAAAACuw/3Yb6McdxQmU/s1600/IMG_8942.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YNcty4qtMvg/UtxriBwH3sI/AAAAAAAACu4/H_8QLC7h8Qg/s1600/IMG_8949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YNcty4qtMvg/UtxriBwH3sI/AAAAAAAACu4/H_8QLC7h8Qg/s1600/IMG_8949.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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...and a little adult supervision, of course.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KQYJlqpmcEI/UtxriTteuyI/AAAAAAAACvA/YJf1XQjhNCY/s1600/IMG_8955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KQYJlqpmcEI/UtxriTteuyI/AAAAAAAACvA/YJf1XQjhNCY/s1600/IMG_8955.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
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12) Concocted my very own salad with the loveliest of Aunty A's organic pickings. Just LOOK at it.</div>
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13) Felt utterly and completely at home.</div>
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Now, just for dad to turn up so I can see the look on his face.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-72453248892377940152014-01-16T19:47:00.001-05:002016-07-08T14:30:48.304-04:00Budapest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Happy new year, everyone!<br />
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I hope that wherever you are and whatever you do, you have had some time to relax over the past few weeks and build your strength up to conquer whatever you have to in the coming year. I wish you all the usual, lots of good friends and family to have adventures with, lots of personal growth, and all the love and good food in the world to keep you happy.<br />
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Today, I have only for you a few of my favourite pictures from Budapest, and a link to the album where you can see a few more of them. These are by no means the best ones, but they are special to me.<br />
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I didn't see much of Eastern Europe when I lived on this continent last, so it warmed my heart to visit Budapest, among other places. It's a small city, but it felt homely somehow. Like anyone would indeed call you in for a cup of tea and a meal if you just struck up a conversation with them in the street.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">And then there was the patisserie and mulled wine and all that goulash. Oof, so much goodness. Two days were just enough to bring the good kind of tingling back in my toes.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Anyway, here's a link to the albums if you want to see some more!</span></div>
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Part 1, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nanya.sudhir/media_set?set=a.10152150004415590.1073741832.579595589&type=1">Budapest</a></div>
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Part 2, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152151427650590.1073741833.579595589&type=3" target="_blank">Vienna</a></div>
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Part 3, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152151766360590.1073741834.579595589&type=3" target="_blank">Prague and Bratislava</a><br />
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-57996002842641150642013-12-19T08:28:00.003-05:002016-01-11T00:25:06.851-05:00Giving Thanks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I got featured in <a href="http://thescribbler.co.in/" target="_blank">The Scribbler</a>! I've spent the last ten minutes trying to think of how to introduce it, but I feel like I used up all my words when I wrote this. So I'll keep it simple and present you with the excerpt,<br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: andada, georgia, serif; font-size: 19px; line-height: 30px;">This year, far away from home and surrounded by people with similar notions, I realised one thing: family is who you spend your holidays with. So here’s a photoset in celebration of all the little things (and grand gestures!) that make new friends feel like part of your long lost own. Thanksgiving and Hannukah, Maastricht, 2013.</span></div>
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...a teaser,<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qlOtsydBfwk/UrLyEQiCNHI/AAAAAAAACsU/E1-bG-JN1Lw/s1600/IMG_5884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="550" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qlOtsydBfwk/UrLyEQiCNHI/AAAAAAAACsU/E1-bG-JN1Lw/s1600/IMG_5884.jpg" /></a></div>
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...and <a href="http://www.scribbler.co/r/52af648d20639400004c11c9/giving-thanks">a link</a> to the feature. Go on, have a read!<br />
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4853656122342399504.post-81259331207335333652013-11-19T18:57:00.002-05:002013-11-19T19:16:33.753-05:00Carnivaaal: A Beginning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Carnival season is here! From now until March, it's the best Dutch excuse to dress up, paint their faces, and start drinking at breakfast. Whoever you are, wherever you're from, it's hard not to join in.<br />
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As a friend would say (and these Dutch would agree), "an empty hand is a sad hand".<br />
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Well, these hands are happy.</div>
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As are these heads. Check out the headdresses!</div>
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Like the people here, they are taaaall...<br />
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...all over the place (!)<br />
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...but timeless in their beauty.</div>
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As I try to make my way through the crowd, my chorus of <i>sorrys</i> and <i>excuse mes</i> are lost somewhere in the carnival music, and Dutch ladies in fancy dress chide me, "Use your elbows, not your words!". Somehow, I feel suddenly at home.</div>
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After living in Delhi, I guess chaos becomes a part of you.</div>
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And yet you can find tranquility in every moment, especially on those rare days when the sun is out.<br />
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It's hard not to smile with all those clowns around!</div>
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When the Dutch get drunk, they like to stand around and <strike>pose</strike> stick their tongues out for pretty much anyone with a camera.<br />
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Sometimes scarily so.</div>
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Alcohol brings out the best in people, clearly.</div>
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One of the things I love most about the celebrations (and this little town) is that everyone gets involved. And they only get more into it as they get older! Just look at these couples, in a parallel universe, they could almost be past/future reflections of each other. Almost!</div>
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The festivities go on all day, all that drinking and dancing and drooling and high-fiveing each other -- with beer. But at some point, time (and people) just chill, stand still...</div>
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and watch the leaves fall around them while they still can.</div>
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And then drink and dance some more,</div>
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till the skies are as coloured as they are and the lights twinkle at them</div>
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from the outside as much as the inside.</div>
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This is what the best days are made of.</div>
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Nanya Sudhirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873622004003190669noreply@blogger.com1