Arrival, Urban Solitaire

Finally arrived, and with Internet access. Hard to express at this point how big of a deal that second part is.

Lots of hours in planes and airports. 25 consecutive, in fact, and I cant sleep on planes. Was next to a mother with three children (yes, that's right, four people in a 3-seat row) on the first flight, which made things nice and loud. The worst part was that it wasnt even the baby who was crying--that I could understand. No, the little guy sat there with huge eyes just looking around while his sister tantrummed her face off for 2 hours. Not a happy camper.

The second flight was better, largely due to the inherent superiority of personal entertainment systems. I have to say it because its the fourth of july--Im an American goddamnit, and I love me my freedom.  Invictus and How to Train Your Dragon are both excellent movies. I also read all of Anthem, by Ayn Rand, which was excellent, if similar to Brave New World. Thank you Mr. Sunde.

Since arriving--

I was picked up at the airport by a cabbie, and I was told that he would know where I was going to be staying. He didnt. So I gave him the address of my best guess, which was the place that the IFMR told us we would "probably" be staying at, as of around 2 months ago. That place had no record of me, but I stayed there anyways. It turned out that the place that I should have been was owned by the same person, so they figured it out and I am now where I am supposed to be. I think.

Today I wandered around a bit, trying my best not to get lost. Lots of people, very few buildings over 4 stories high. The city just sprawls for miles, frequently dotted with trees and empty lots. The people are helpful if difficult to understand and hard to explain things to. I got frequent hellos and "where are you from?"'s as I walked the streets, which I guess shouldnt surprise me, as I have not seen another white person since I left the airport. Braved a small street side restaurant (generous labeling), and was heavily rewarded. Great chicken, great veg curries, and significantly more food than I could eat for about $3.50.  We'll see if I agree with the assessment that I was rewarded once it manages to get through my system.

It has been incredibly strange being here alone. I have mostly traveled with my parents, which supplies a lot of support in a strange place and at least gives me someone to talk to. When I have been away from parents, I was always going with other people, or to a place where there were people that I knew there. That was completely not the case coming to Chennai. I new nobody, I was traveling with nobody, I had no means of communication with anybody that I knew. Today is sunday, so the office I will be working at is closed. Literally the closest person that I know, to my knowledge, is in China. It shook me, walking off the plane into a country of a billion people, knowing that there literally wasnt even a one in a billion chance of bumping into someone I knew. I never knew what being alone really was like until now. Any self imposed solitude is false, it pales in comparison. You go off into the woods knowing that at most a couple hours away you can reach the familiar, probably even the familial. Even when among people you dont know there is so much that you have in common, culturally and especially language. You know that you easily could talk to them, meet them, get to know them. Each person I meet here, each name that slides into my brain and slides out only minutes later, each face I try and memorize and each hand I shake is merely a rotating representative of the billion. My communications have been superficial, and after their completion both of us know that there is no reason for the other to be remembered--the chances are so small that I will feature at all prominently in any of these people's lives, or that they will in mine. It makes me question my definition of home. Had I been asked before today, I would have undoubtedly described some structure, 1560 Arbor Ave or, to the distress of my mother, 163 Twain Hall. That view lacks perspective. Home is any place where you have no fear of getting lost.

Irony is a bitch. While I was writing that last bit, the people staying across the hall from me came back, and I went outside to investigate the noise. It was the students from MIT and Harvard who are going to be working at the IFMR, not on the same projects with us but still. With that, the discovery of Internet (finally a link back to home) and the knowledge that some of my fellow Stanfordians have landed in Chennai and are probably on their way here (unless their cabbie also has no clue and they use the same address I did) has ended my little game of solitaire.