It is the month of August and Facebook has seamlessly started reminding each one of us about our several firsts. For me it was the decision to be an 'Engineer' taken nine years ago, not necessarily just my decision because I didn't know back then very clearly about what 'taking decisions' mean. Now after almost a decade, I'd just like to be called a 'Biologist'... by profession.
I chose to write this post here, on a Saturday night, amidst editing manuscripts and reading a thesis because I would have not been able to do both in the most content way possible if not for one of the most important decisions of my life I took- five years ago!
August 16th, 2014. MAA --> AMS
I enjoyed the last four months after obtaining a 'prestigious' Bachelors degree in Engineering, which turned out very insignificant in the end for me personally than when I actually chose to do it. By this time, I had a visa stamp on my passport to travel to the Netherlands (a country I significantly knew for only about 10 months at that point). My bags were packed with things to get me started in a new country and my sister went through the effort of making me a goodbye T-shirt with our faces on it. We all stood as a family of four in our tubelight lit home, praying for a safe journey and finally setting out to the airport. I hadn't been to the airport in years and until that time, not on a single flight. I got past the entrance after some goodbyes (no tears; no return date) and stood in the line with a very very heavy check-in baggage that was tagged 'heavy luggage', in my best behavior, because thats what you do at airports. It was fancy. I got three of my first boarding passes (two transfers; Mumbai & Zurich because the connection was the cheapest way forward) and I remember holding on to them so tight as if the wind would blow it away inside an airport. In the next 5 hours I was on the long flight from Mumbai to Zurich and somewhere in the middle of Turkey, maybe, I woke up to realize that the lights were off and everyone was sleeping (at 3 am, XY timezone). Reality hit hard for the first time. The environment around me was something I had never been in before. My heart was pumping so fast that I wanted to scream and run away. The feeling that I cannot do that on a flight made my feet tremble even more. I knew what claustrophobia was (not clinical).
August 17th, 2014. Nijmegen, The Netherlands
After three flights and after three local trains I reached Nijmegen, which was on the east edge of the Netherlands. Just 5 days ago I had learnt how to pronounce the name of the city that was going to be my home for the next two years. The University (Radboud) had organized International Orientation Week's Mentors to wait for new arrivals at the train station which made it a bit easier. That was my first contact with 'White' people and I mean it in the least racist way. They were smiling, warm and made me feel welcome and comfortable in every way possible. But my ears were still completely blocked from the flight pressure making it hard to hear any English... and my inability to understand Dutch made it difficult to understand anything that was written. Signs, boards and directions to the restroom (indicated as WC; who would've known). It was very cold, the temperature was 22 deg Celsius, but I came from Chennai so that was worst than Winter. I did some routine things like registration and getting keys to my student room because we were guided to. I entered my furnished student room in a corridor with five other rooms like mine, dropped all the luggage down and sat on the bed waiting for the calmness to end. It took me a while to realize that my ears are not blocked anymore but it is the calmness of the West, let's say Europe.. well, let's say my room.. but if you are Indian, you would understand what I mean. Reality check 2. I ran out of the room like I could run back home, only to be stopped in the corridor by another Indian. I found a comfort. My panic and heart beat reduced slowly and he even made me some Maggi. He showed me how to open the windows and how to close it. I was 21 years old and I had to be taught these things.
August 22nd, 2014. Nijmegen, The Netherlands
It had been a few days since my arrival. But I was immediately drawn into the buzz that is the Orientation Week. It was sincerely one of the best times I ever had. We were a group of 20 and our Mentors showed us around the city, helped us to buy SIM cards and I even bought my first bike. There were Erasmus exchange students as a part of my group from different countries in Europe. We tried to keep the spoken language as English, which was very hard for the French people but I made friends with what we all knew. Common topics of discussion on the table were about culture and history and I could not understand anything. The little of what I learnt about European history in school did not help as I did not remember a lot, obviously. Everything was information. It was the most silent days of my life. I listened and I observed. In the end we had a two-day camping trip where at night was a big celebration where students would group into countries and perform something traditional. There were some larger groups: Spanish and Italian. And then there were smaller groups: Asians (Japan, China, Hong Kong, not me!)- the irony!. Everyone was busy preparing an act, and in the crowd of almost 150 students I had no one from India. So I silently went back to my tent, with blank thoughts and not pondering over anything but refreshing my phone every 5 seconds so that the internet would get activated from my new SIM card. At night the celebration began and the performances were so different from each other. I was learning from each and every one of it. A sudden jerk of having to represent where I come from came to me, which is very hard to explain. And there I was in 5 minutes performing Bharathanatyam to Flo Rida's Right Round in front of atleast 150 people. I was mad.
The first three months. Nijmegen, The Netherlands
After the Orientation Week we had one full week of holidays before classes would begin. I used Google Maps to search for the nearest supermarket. Aldi (whatever that meant at that time; it is a chain of German supermarkets) was 2.5 km away. So I set sail in my bike, putting on my freedom hat and drove with one hand on my bike and with Google Maps on the other. I reached the supermarket with great enthusiasm only to realize now I have to translate pretty much everything that was written. Milk is milk, but there are different companies and different versions. There were different versions of everything. There were a range of salami and cheese which I never saw before and never understood. I placed all the basics things starting from oil to eggs to bananas into my cart and billed it all. It was expensive but what was more expensive was that I should have carried my own bag. So I paid for a couple of plastic bags and as I carried them out to my bike, I realized what I have is a bike, not a car.
I think it is only in the hardest of times, when you can turn to no one for help, your heart sinks in a little bit- you feel hopeless- and then you regain courage, like borrowing it from a reservoir- and you keep it going!
I removed the handstrap from my handbag to hold my bag and tied the bike lock around it and drove away like a queen. This was my first trip to a supermarket.
The next one year...
In the next one year I did everything. I did things that would normally take decades. I ate food from different cuisines. We danced to music late into the night. I was sweating from Zumba. I talked about the weather with people for hours. I saw snow for the very first time. I took my second flight ever and then the third. I experienced the winter chillness of the North. I complained about the humidity in Istanbul. We attended a wedding. I cultured fruit-flies in the lab. We had pot-lucks. I spent every penny I earned. I could differentiate Spanish from Italian and French. We crossed borders. I knew what Amsterdam was like. I saw the mountains of Switzerland. Ate Paella across the beach in the streets of Barcelona. Took a picture perfect shot of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Life was really good and I was getting used to it.
The next four years...
I lived for over seven months in the US. Life was different there and roaming across the streets of Harvard University and MIT in Cambridge was not even in my dreams. Life in Boston was the most energetic. The standard was very high just as the cost was. The winter was even harsh. I got to stay warm while it was minus 40 deg Celsius outside. I experienced the chaos of New York City and the Miami beach life. I froze a bit along the Niagara and walked across streets enjoying Chicago's wind. There was nothing more I could ask for. After my time in the US and lots of memories I graduated with a Master in Science. It paved way for a good PhD position in Germany. I traveled across seas all the time now. I lost account of how many flights I had taken at this point, but every time I had my claustrophobic feeling. I could not shake it off. Eventually with several tries I found that the best way to beat it was to sit in one of the Aisle seats. I fight to reserve it every time till date. It is the only thing that gets me with confidence on the next flight. I met new people in Germany. By this time, I knew how to talk, what to talk, what to expect, keep the right distance, say the right things and be socially less awkward. The conversations I heard in the first few weeks of my arrival in Europe evolved over years. They are versions of the same thing. People discuss similar issues. I felt like I was finally part of this world. It was not startling anymore to go to a supermarket. I always took my own bag and knew what to pick. I knew how to find an accommodation and the value of Euros. What is more/ what is less.
After five years....
But in all these years, the only thing that was most difficult to fight for was not the language, not the surrounding, not the people but my identity. What my character was and who I was. While standing outside that train station with just a few bags I could have chosen to be anyone. Someone who was not me for those 21 years. Situations, cultures and opinions were lying around or thrown at me- sheering me to be different versions. I changed a lot trying to fit in, trying to be opinionated and not offended when someone was too direct. In the initial years when my parents visited, it was very hard for my brain to comprehend which world was mine - the world with my friends culturally very different or my family from home who represents me all these years. Later my worlds mixed again when my sister visited me in the US and I was taking her around the streets I only roamed with my friends from the West. It was very hard to exchange these ideas within my brain. I did not realize that this was not a choice that had to be made. And now after five years, my friends have visited me in India, my parents have visited them in Europe.. my friends and friends of friends are friends. They all get along well perfectly with each other. My family and friends have expanded across borders and they all agree on my obnoxious levels. They hate me and love me the same. And that was proof that amidst all these years of situational changes and incidences with people of different characters, I managed to stay true to who I was. I changed, but I am also still myself. My values hardened and friendships grew stronger. Adulting is about changing yourself and being you at the same time. I will never be who I was five years ago but what I have learnt is that whoever you are, it is because what you learnt at this moment in time. To choose to deliver a story of the last five years as the most difficult times of your life or a journey that you would never forget.
... My decision five years ago was life testing me to see if I would drown or swim. And I am swimming, still swimming.
Oh, and did I mention? In the second year I was a Mentor for the International Orientation Week and saw the same story start all over again for so many. At least now it was +1 Indian ;)
Cheers to all of you who made tough decisions and then whacked them over,
Swe
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