It's almost here! The day when I fulfil one of my childhood dreams, and go to New Zealand -- it's almost here! I'm so excited. I've wanted to go to New Zealand ever since I was a teenager. I'm not exactly sure what excited my imagination so about the little country in the southern hemisphere -- a mix of documentaries on Discovery Channnel, a couple of books about the country, and the cricket team (it's one of my favorite teams in cricket), all conspired to get me interested in the little nation of three islands. I've plotted and planned of my visit there for years -- and now, the day is almost here!
I'm at home right now, typing away at my laptop, lying stretched out across my futon, listening to my iPod plugged into my iHome, and following the scores of New Zealand in the first Test match against West Indies at, coincidentally, Dunedin (the place that I'm set to visit in a few days). Daniel Vettori, the captain, just fell for 30 runs. They've really had it now -- they're at a not-so-great 328-8 against a West Indies team that was lacking quality bowlers. I don't think they're gonna do so well. Then again, this is the third day of the match, and with West Indies to play two more innings, and New Zealand to play one more, maybe the match will be drawn instead of New Zealand having to bear the ignominy of losing it.
I recently made a booking at the Hermitage, a hotel in the remote village of Mount Cook Village at the base of Aoraki/Mount Cook, the tallest peak in New Zealand. I don't know quite what caught my fantasy about that place -- something to do with how lonely and desolate and utterly beautiful the place was, I suppose. I can't wait to go there. Maybe I'll be struck by inspiration to continue my second Brendon McCarthy story which has stalled on Chapter 15 for over a year now. I'm hoping that sitting in the warm hotel lobby, next to a roaring fire, under the watchful gaze of Aoraki (Cloud-Piercer) Mt Cook will get the creative juices flowing again. There really is nothing else to do in the little village. There's a small observatory, I believe; but nothing else of note. It will be interesting for sure!
I can't wait for the trip!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Contrasts in coconut
Bombay is a city of many contrasts. The rich and the poor, kind and indifferent, and....well, I could go on forever with the cliches. But one example of this that remained on my mind was -- coconut! I know, it's a strange object to be even talking about, but it's one of those things that just stick to your mind.
I love drinking coconut water -- or, to be more specific, fresh tender coconut water. It's available at any roadseller in India (at least in Bombay), a pile of green tender coconut on display. If you ask for one, the seller whittles away at the top of the coconut till he gets to the tender flesh inside, and then breaks through to get to the water, which can range from bland to sweet. But no matter what, it's always refreshing. I love tender coconut.
When I was at Vashi, which is the suburb of Bombay where my family lives, I found such a coconut seller in the little vegetable market at the edge of town. The vegetable market lies under the highway, and is small, close and secluded. I love going there. It's bright and colorful, with lovely contrasts displayed to the passers-by. I don't really like vegetables, but I can't resist being tempted by how good they look. And if you wander to the fruit section, it even smells heavenly. I really love it.
It was in this vegetable market that I found a coconut seller. He had a small mound of green tender coconut on display. I went to him and asked for one.
"Do you want it with or without malai (the flesh)?" he asked.
"Without -- I just want the water," I told him.
He went to work. He took out a little knife, and whittled away at the body of the coconut till he revealed the white husk inside. He poked at it with his knife, and a couple of drops of water on the inside spilled out. He put a straw into the hole and offered the fruit to me. "Here you go," he said.
I sipped it. It was delicious, sweet, cool and refreshing. No matter how hot it is outside, coconut water is always cool. I sipped at it, and was almost amazed to find how quickly I'd finished it off. It felt like I'd just drunk energy water, only better and more pure. I can't even describe how wonderful fresh coconut water tastes like. It was just amazing. I paid the seller -- it was a mere 15 rupees -- and left.
Next, my Mum and sister and I went to the nearby mall. The mall represents all that I've come to resent about the 'new' Vashi -- bright, loud, modern. I'm not saying I'm against development, and I of course admit that the malls have improved the lives of Vashi residents hugely. But I'm an old-fashioned person, and I rather preferred the quiet, sleepy little suburb where I grew up. But I digress.
We went to the mall, and on the third floor (2nd floor by Indian/British standards), is an outlet of an ice cream chain called Naturals. It's a local Bombay chain, and they sell ice cream in rather exotic flavors. I of course ordered my favorite -- tender coconut.
The ice cream was served in a tiny cup, a tiny scoop, about half the size of a cricket ball. I tasted it. It was good, quite good, and is, in fact, my favorite flavor at Naturals. As I sat under the bright lights of the food court of the mall and ate the ice cream, I couldn't help but compare it with the fresh coconut water I'd just had standing in the sun and the dirt. And you know what? I infinitely preferred the water. There was just something good about standing in the heat, sipping that cool water, served by that simple man under the trees.
And the ice cream cost 30 rupees.
Bombay is a city of many contrasts. And the contrast in the coconut proved to me that I like the old-fashioned way far, far more.
I love drinking coconut water -- or, to be more specific, fresh tender coconut water. It's available at any roadseller in India (at least in Bombay), a pile of green tender coconut on display. If you ask for one, the seller whittles away at the top of the coconut till he gets to the tender flesh inside, and then breaks through to get to the water, which can range from bland to sweet. But no matter what, it's always refreshing. I love tender coconut.
When I was at Vashi, which is the suburb of Bombay where my family lives, I found such a coconut seller in the little vegetable market at the edge of town. The vegetable market lies under the highway, and is small, close and secluded. I love going there. It's bright and colorful, with lovely contrasts displayed to the passers-by. I don't really like vegetables, but I can't resist being tempted by how good they look. And if you wander to the fruit section, it even smells heavenly. I really love it.
It was in this vegetable market that I found a coconut seller. He had a small mound of green tender coconut on display. I went to him and asked for one.
"Do you want it with or without malai (the flesh)?" he asked.
"Without -- I just want the water," I told him.
He went to work. He took out a little knife, and whittled away at the body of the coconut till he revealed the white husk inside. He poked at it with his knife, and a couple of drops of water on the inside spilled out. He put a straw into the hole and offered the fruit to me. "Here you go," he said.
I sipped it. It was delicious, sweet, cool and refreshing. No matter how hot it is outside, coconut water is always cool. I sipped at it, and was almost amazed to find how quickly I'd finished it off. It felt like I'd just drunk energy water, only better and more pure. I can't even describe how wonderful fresh coconut water tastes like. It was just amazing. I paid the seller -- it was a mere 15 rupees -- and left.
Next, my Mum and sister and I went to the nearby mall. The mall represents all that I've come to resent about the 'new' Vashi -- bright, loud, modern. I'm not saying I'm against development, and I of course admit that the malls have improved the lives of Vashi residents hugely. But I'm an old-fashioned person, and I rather preferred the quiet, sleepy little suburb where I grew up. But I digress.
We went to the mall, and on the third floor (2nd floor by Indian/British standards), is an outlet of an ice cream chain called Naturals. It's a local Bombay chain, and they sell ice cream in rather exotic flavors. I of course ordered my favorite -- tender coconut.
The ice cream was served in a tiny cup, a tiny scoop, about half the size of a cricket ball. I tasted it. It was good, quite good, and is, in fact, my favorite flavor at Naturals. As I sat under the bright lights of the food court of the mall and ate the ice cream, I couldn't help but compare it with the fresh coconut water I'd just had standing in the sun and the dirt. And you know what? I infinitely preferred the water. There was just something good about standing in the heat, sipping that cool water, served by that simple man under the trees.
And the ice cream cost 30 rupees.
Bombay is a city of many contrasts. And the contrast in the coconut proved to me that I like the old-fashioned way far, far more.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Barnes & Noble
When I first moved to Austin, one of the must-see places on my list was the Barnes & Noble in Arboretum. I've been a sucker for bookstores ever since I learned to read, and such a big one was a major attraction. When I saw it first, I knew immediately what part of Austin I wanted to live in forever and ever. So, two years later, when I graduated from grad school, and it came time for me to select a place to stay in which did not need to be within 1 mile of Taylor Hall, the Computer Sciences building in the University of Texas at Austin campus, I of course decided on Arboretum. Now I'd be close to my beloved bookstore.
I was slightly worried about the novelty wearing off -- that since I lived so close to Barnes & Noble now, I wouldn't want to visit it as much. I needn't have worried. I spend more of my waking hours there than I do in my own home, and the staff there knows me by sight. If anything, I think I go there a little too much. I know every crack in the wall, every spot on the carpet -- and pretty much the location of every genre of books. I think I could write an encyclopedia on the geography of Barnes & Noble Arboretum now. I can navigate the store blindfolded.
It's a wonderful store to go to. It resembles a library more than a bookstore. Tall stacks of books are neatly arranged all around the store, with people silently browsing through them. I know it's okay to talk on the phone, but I feel like a criminal, the library sense prevails so strongly. I don't have a specific favorite section, though I tend to mostly be in the manga section, or the mystery section.
When you enter, to the right is what I call the "oldies" section -- full of reference books, from the commonplace to the arcane, from the ordinary to the esoteric, from art to computer science to cooking and beyond. I love the travel section, and ever since I've booked tickets to visit Dunedin, New Zealand later this year, I've been regularly haunting the travel section. But my favorite section, by far, is the one on the left.
The left side of the store contains the entire fiction section -- my favorite. I don't really care what kind of fiction it is, I love to read it (except romance -- I hate romantic novels). It could be as gentle as Jane Austen, or as adrenaline-pumping as Matt Reilly, I read it all. My favorite genre is probably mystery, though, for I can resist anything but I can't resist a good whodunit. (That's followed closely by spy thrillers -- I love spy thrillers).
The literature section lies to the far left of the store, and is the section where most books are found. A few (like mystery or science fiction) are in their own specified section, which lies to the edge of the store, close to the window. Running at an angle to all these sections, and parallel to the window, is one of my favorite sections in the store -- Japanese manga. I can race through a manga in less an 30 minutes, even if I take time to savor the gorgeous drawings.
Upstairs is another reference section -- it is actually this section that contains the art books. I'd know, because for two years I stared at them with silent longing, but without the money to buy them. There are fantastic books on painting landscapes in watercolors, on developing your own manga characters, on layering shades in oil paintings to give them a "glow", on using various acrylic techniques.
To the right of this section is the DVD section, as I call it -- it contains an impressive array of CDs and DVDs. I haven't been there much, though, for I just watch all my movies online and not from a DVD.
On the lower level, right at the back of the store is the children's section. Bright and colorful, it contains a lot many books that I love to read even now -- every now and then I get tired of reading "adult" novels and revert to all that is magical and fantastical, and just a break from the grimness of "real" novels, and back into the wonderful world of children's fiction. I love children's books (maybe that's why the only book I've ever written was a children's book), and even though I feel faintly embarassed to be going into the children's section at the old age of 24, I do it anyway. Besides, most people seem to think I'm a teenager, so it's not too bad!
There's usually a lot of people at Barnes & Noble, but I like it best when there's no one around. Well -- that's not very common -- but even if the store is relatively empty, I love it. I love having an entire section to myself, feeling the soft soundtrack played in the store melt into my consciousness, and feeling like I'm the only one there. I like to curl up in a corner, picking up a volume of Trinity Blood or Black Cat and lose myself in the plot. Even better, I like it if I can lose myself in a new mystery novel, though there aren't too many left in the store that I haven't read, unfortunately. I'll always remember a day, last year, during the summer when it rained so much. It was raining hard outside, and the skies were dark and grey. There was hardly anybody in the store, and I felt myself losing myself in the feeling that I was the only person left in the world. It felt comforting, as I slipped into a comfortable slouch on the floor, curled up with a Dick Francis novel. I love Dick Francis novels, they combine mystery with British horseracing, and I could just feel myself immerse in the world of rich owners, cruel trainers and hapless jockeys. Meanwhile, it was getting darker and darker outside, and thunder growled in the distance. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of lightning, startling me, followed by a roar of thunder. Water lashed against the glass windows, and visibility outside was obliterated. It really felt like I was the only one in the world. I loved it.
Yes, indeed, no matter how many times I visit Barnes & Noble, it will remain my favorite bookstore. And for some reason, no other bookstore appeals to me quite as much, not even Borders which is at least as extensive -- or even another Barnes & Noble, such as the one I visited in Denver. No, this one has become my second home, and nothing can quite measure up to it. The staff knows me too, but now -- including the funny cashier who calls me "little troublemaker", but is always delighted to see me, his booming laughter echoing through the store. I love Barnes & Noble.
I was slightly worried about the novelty wearing off -- that since I lived so close to Barnes & Noble now, I wouldn't want to visit it as much. I needn't have worried. I spend more of my waking hours there than I do in my own home, and the staff there knows me by sight. If anything, I think I go there a little too much. I know every crack in the wall, every spot on the carpet -- and pretty much the location of every genre of books. I think I could write an encyclopedia on the geography of Barnes & Noble Arboretum now. I can navigate the store blindfolded.
It's a wonderful store to go to. It resembles a library more than a bookstore. Tall stacks of books are neatly arranged all around the store, with people silently browsing through them. I know it's okay to talk on the phone, but I feel like a criminal, the library sense prevails so strongly. I don't have a specific favorite section, though I tend to mostly be in the manga section, or the mystery section.
When you enter, to the right is what I call the "oldies" section -- full of reference books, from the commonplace to the arcane, from the ordinary to the esoteric, from art to computer science to cooking and beyond. I love the travel section, and ever since I've booked tickets to visit Dunedin, New Zealand later this year, I've been regularly haunting the travel section. But my favorite section, by far, is the one on the left.
The left side of the store contains the entire fiction section -- my favorite. I don't really care what kind of fiction it is, I love to read it (except romance -- I hate romantic novels). It could be as gentle as Jane Austen, or as adrenaline-pumping as Matt Reilly, I read it all. My favorite genre is probably mystery, though, for I can resist anything but I can't resist a good whodunit. (That's followed closely by spy thrillers -- I love spy thrillers).
The literature section lies to the far left of the store, and is the section where most books are found. A few (like mystery or science fiction) are in their own specified section, which lies to the edge of the store, close to the window. Running at an angle to all these sections, and parallel to the window, is one of my favorite sections in the store -- Japanese manga. I can race through a manga in less an 30 minutes, even if I take time to savor the gorgeous drawings.
Upstairs is another reference section -- it is actually this section that contains the art books. I'd know, because for two years I stared at them with silent longing, but without the money to buy them. There are fantastic books on painting landscapes in watercolors, on developing your own manga characters, on layering shades in oil paintings to give them a "glow", on using various acrylic techniques.
To the right of this section is the DVD section, as I call it -- it contains an impressive array of CDs and DVDs. I haven't been there much, though, for I just watch all my movies online and not from a DVD.
On the lower level, right at the back of the store is the children's section. Bright and colorful, it contains a lot many books that I love to read even now -- every now and then I get tired of reading "adult" novels and revert to all that is magical and fantastical, and just a break from the grimness of "real" novels, and back into the wonderful world of children's fiction. I love children's books (maybe that's why the only book I've ever written was a children's book), and even though I feel faintly embarassed to be going into the children's section at the old age of 24, I do it anyway. Besides, most people seem to think I'm a teenager, so it's not too bad!
There's usually a lot of people at Barnes & Noble, but I like it best when there's no one around. Well -- that's not very common -- but even if the store is relatively empty, I love it. I love having an entire section to myself, feeling the soft soundtrack played in the store melt into my consciousness, and feeling like I'm the only one there. I like to curl up in a corner, picking up a volume of Trinity Blood or Black Cat and lose myself in the plot. Even better, I like it if I can lose myself in a new mystery novel, though there aren't too many left in the store that I haven't read, unfortunately. I'll always remember a day, last year, during the summer when it rained so much. It was raining hard outside, and the skies were dark and grey. There was hardly anybody in the store, and I felt myself losing myself in the feeling that I was the only person left in the world. It felt comforting, as I slipped into a comfortable slouch on the floor, curled up with a Dick Francis novel. I love Dick Francis novels, they combine mystery with British horseracing, and I could just feel myself immerse in the world of rich owners, cruel trainers and hapless jockeys. Meanwhile, it was getting darker and darker outside, and thunder growled in the distance. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of lightning, startling me, followed by a roar of thunder. Water lashed against the glass windows, and visibility outside was obliterated. It really felt like I was the only one in the world. I loved it.
Yes, indeed, no matter how many times I visit Barnes & Noble, it will remain my favorite bookstore. And for some reason, no other bookstore appeals to me quite as much, not even Borders which is at least as extensive -- or even another Barnes & Noble, such as the one I visited in Denver. No, this one has become my second home, and nothing can quite measure up to it. The staff knows me too, but now -- including the funny cashier who calls me "little troublemaker", but is always delighted to see me, his booming laughter echoing through the store. I love Barnes & Noble.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Year of Travel
2008 was certainly a significant year in my life. I've graduated from grad school, and started working -- this year marked what was possibly my last year as a student (though, with my penchant for studying I wouldn't rule out a return to academia). I also started working at Dell Inc as a software developer, a job that I've enjoyed so much since the day I started, it's sinful. I absolutely adore my teammates, and I love delving into the code and understanding how it works. And I actually get paid to do that -- life's just great!
After the obligatory bill-paying and buying all those things I lusted after when I was a poverty-stricken grad student and didn't have the money to buy them (one of those was, for some strange reason, a flimsy bookshelf at Barnes & Noble), I finally decided that I would indulge in another thing that I wanted to do forever -- travel.
After deciding that, my first destination was fixed -- New Zealand. I've wanted to go there since forever, I even wrote a book based in New Zealand! I had to see it. So I booked tickets to Dunedin, in South Island. I can't wait for that trip!
Next on that list was India, of course. In November is my parents' 25th wedding anniversary, and there's no way I could miss that! So after weeks of stalking travel websites for a decent ticket to India, I finally got the right one -- and I'm going to Bombay from Nov 15th to 29th.
And then, everyone was going away for Labor Day weekend, and I felt like an idiot for having no plans but to lie about the house reading books and surfing useless websites on the internet, so I've booked another getaway, to Denver. I'm going to Denver for the Labor Day weekend, and I'm sure it's gonna be fun! I love getaways too, where you don't know a soul in the other place -- you just roam there by yourself with no one to judge you or anything.
So by the end of this year, I would've been to: Anaheim, Los Angeles, San Antonio, Denver, Bombay and Dunedin. Not bad!! I aim to increase the length of that list next year, but let's see. I've always wondered what I'd do with so much money -- I'm a pretty frugal person, and I don't go on shopping binges at all, not even in Barnes & Noble, my favorite store. But now, I've found a way to spend that money and indulge in my passion -- traveling!
I bet 2009's gonna be an even more interesting year.....
After the obligatory bill-paying and buying all those things I lusted after when I was a poverty-stricken grad student and didn't have the money to buy them (one of those was, for some strange reason, a flimsy bookshelf at Barnes & Noble), I finally decided that I would indulge in another thing that I wanted to do forever -- travel.
After deciding that, my first destination was fixed -- New Zealand. I've wanted to go there since forever, I even wrote a book based in New Zealand! I had to see it. So I booked tickets to Dunedin, in South Island. I can't wait for that trip!
Next on that list was India, of course. In November is my parents' 25th wedding anniversary, and there's no way I could miss that! So after weeks of stalking travel websites for a decent ticket to India, I finally got the right one -- and I'm going to Bombay from Nov 15th to 29th.
And then, everyone was going away for Labor Day weekend, and I felt like an idiot for having no plans but to lie about the house reading books and surfing useless websites on the internet, so I've booked another getaway, to Denver. I'm going to Denver for the Labor Day weekend, and I'm sure it's gonna be fun! I love getaways too, where you don't know a soul in the other place -- you just roam there by yourself with no one to judge you or anything.
So by the end of this year, I would've been to: Anaheim, Los Angeles, San Antonio, Denver, Bombay and Dunedin. Not bad!! I aim to increase the length of that list next year, but let's see. I've always wondered what I'd do with so much money -- I'm a pretty frugal person, and I don't go on shopping binges at all, not even in Barnes & Noble, my favorite store. But now, I've found a way to spend that money and indulge in my passion -- traveling!
I bet 2009's gonna be an even more interesting year.....
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Nostalgia
Yes, I know, it's been ages since I last wrote (blogged?). It's been a trifle hectic, what with my long-awaited graduation from grad school, and my parents and my sister paying me a visit here in Austin, and sheer laziness following that, I somehow never sat down to write. But a few days ago I discovered that the writing juices in me were intact, and so here I am.
Yes, I've graduated from the hallowed halls of the University of Texas at Austin. And it's still taking time to sink in. I haven't left UT cold turkey -- I enrolled for French classes over the summer, so I could keep myself busy, and also get smaller doses of UT, like a smoker winds down from a million cigarettes a day to maybe ten. The classes are only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for 90 minutes, but I thought, hey! As long as I get to see UT, it'll be all right. Right?
Wrong. I hate UT the way it is now. It wasn't just UT that made it so precious to me -- it was my friends inhabiting it alongside me that made it what it was. I used to love sitting in TAY 5.142, technically Ruchica's office, but pretty much well-claimed by me. I think toward the end I spent more time there than she did. I used to love walking into the GRACS lounge, and checking my mail in the mailbox, and watching boys play foosball at the table, and people taking printouts, people checking mail, and people sleeping even through the din. I used to love sitting my myself in the reading room in TAY 5.110.
No more. I come now to GRACS lounge, and it looks like a ghost town. It's silent and deserted. the computer terminals are cool, the printers are in the sleep mode. The foosball table is still, with one ball lying forlornly on the table. I can almost see ghosts from the past -- people laughing, joking, playing, talking....and then the image is gone, and I'm all alone in the large room. I went to Ruchica's office today, and it seemed to be just a shell. I could almost see her and me, sitting opposite each other, watching videos on YouTube, or playing around on Facebook, and telling each other what we were doing. I could almost see the tension in the last few days as we both scrambled to complete our pending assignments, and get done with the Network Security project which we worked on together along with Vaibhav. And then I looked again, and there was nothing in the room, except for tables and chairs, and some loose papers lying around, and the chalkboard filled with Japanese, where I had practiced it after each class.
I don't like returning to these rooms when they are so empty. It feels desolate. I know it's just an illusion, and they'll be filled with life once the Fall semester starts again in August; but right now, it just feels like a ghost town, and I'm more than eager to leave. Right now, I'm sitting in the reading room, and only it feels the same, because I would often sit here alone. I've left this institution. I guess it's still taking time to sink in. And soon, there will be no trace of me having ever been here. For some reason, that disturbs me. I mean, what could I expect to do, right? But still, it hurts me that the next batch won't even have an idea that I was here. The last remaining sign of my presence is the Japanese written on the whiteboard in the reading room, and soon, at the start of the new term, that will be gone as well.
Maybe I should just say goodbye.
Yes, I've graduated from the hallowed halls of the University of Texas at Austin. And it's still taking time to sink in. I haven't left UT cold turkey -- I enrolled for French classes over the summer, so I could keep myself busy, and also get smaller doses of UT, like a smoker winds down from a million cigarettes a day to maybe ten. The classes are only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for 90 minutes, but I thought, hey! As long as I get to see UT, it'll be all right. Right?
Wrong. I hate UT the way it is now. It wasn't just UT that made it so precious to me -- it was my friends inhabiting it alongside me that made it what it was. I used to love sitting in TAY 5.142, technically Ruchica's office, but pretty much well-claimed by me. I think toward the end I spent more time there than she did. I used to love walking into the GRACS lounge, and checking my mail in the mailbox, and watching boys play foosball at the table, and people taking printouts, people checking mail, and people sleeping even through the din. I used to love sitting my myself in the reading room in TAY 5.110.
No more. I come now to GRACS lounge, and it looks like a ghost town. It's silent and deserted. the computer terminals are cool, the printers are in the sleep mode. The foosball table is still, with one ball lying forlornly on the table. I can almost see ghosts from the past -- people laughing, joking, playing, talking....and then the image is gone, and I'm all alone in the large room. I went to Ruchica's office today, and it seemed to be just a shell. I could almost see her and me, sitting opposite each other, watching videos on YouTube, or playing around on Facebook, and telling each other what we were doing. I could almost see the tension in the last few days as we both scrambled to complete our pending assignments, and get done with the Network Security project which we worked on together along with Vaibhav. And then I looked again, and there was nothing in the room, except for tables and chairs, and some loose papers lying around, and the chalkboard filled with Japanese, where I had practiced it after each class.
I don't like returning to these rooms when they are so empty. It feels desolate. I know it's just an illusion, and they'll be filled with life once the Fall semester starts again in August; but right now, it just feels like a ghost town, and I'm more than eager to leave. Right now, I'm sitting in the reading room, and only it feels the same, because I would often sit here alone. I've left this institution. I guess it's still taking time to sink in. And soon, there will be no trace of me having ever been here. For some reason, that disturbs me. I mean, what could I expect to do, right? But still, it hurts me that the next batch won't even have an idea that I was here. The last remaining sign of my presence is the Japanese written on the whiteboard in the reading room, and soon, at the start of the new term, that will be gone as well.
Maybe I should just say goodbye.
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