Sanctuary Of Random Keystrokes

The hardest part about moving to a new country is not the new job, not the weather, not a new set of rules, mores and traditions, but homesickness. The mind maginfies the happier memories and ties the unpleasantness of bad traffic, noise, pollution, haggling with autos, powercuts, water-shortage and numerous other little stresses of life in India into a neat bundle and drowns it into the river of oblivion. You fondly remember a Utopian place that never really was, and begin feeling pangs of homesickness.

I thought I was missing being able to call my friends and meet them for a coffee, but after reflecting for a little longer, I realized that it wasn’t the case. Most of my friends in India were in different cities, if not in different countries. Even while I was in India, sometimes months would pass before I’d see my friends. Some just drifted out of my life after marriage. Others after kids.

I then wondered if it was the food. But that clearly wasn’t the case. I enjoy a good meal as much as anyone else but I am not a foodie. I won’t go chasing after my favourite dish. Monotony doesn’t bore me. As a vegeterian, my options here might not be as diverse as in India, but they are not so few that I would miss India.

During my eary days in Amsterdam, it was music that would trigger bouts of homesickness. I religiously avoided all Indian music for the first few months. It’s only now that I’ve been able to listen to Indian music without tears rolling down my cheeks. And then I came across this old clip from the cultural tele-magazine Surabhi:

I was in school (class 10, may be class 11) when the music of Roja made it big up north. Many memories came flooding back with this clip. And so it occured to me that I wasn’t missing the India I had recently left. I was missing the India I can never go back to – the India of the 90s. I also find it particulary strange that I should feel this way. I was bored and restless during the 90s (I was in my teens so all credit to me) and would’ve laughed at the notion of missing those days ever.

I now look at clips of some of the music I was listening to in college, and there is a certain innocence about the music (and the movies) of that time.

It’s not been that long since we left the 90s, but I already feel a sense of loss which moving here as accentuated. I guess it’s fair to call it homesickness after all.

These pictures were taken at a store selling Nijntje merchandise in Zaanse Schans.

The little Nijntje dolls on the bed looked like they were waiting for the Nijntje lamp to perform some divine act.

…that’s your most interesting memory of a visit to a new city. We were visiting Bruges after having spent 3 months living in Amsterdam. The streets, the canals and the architecture were all very beautiful, but they weren’t as magical as we had expected them to be. This door knocker, the doorhandle and the doorbell were:

P.S.: Surely the owners of the last house don’t like guests paying them a visit. I would think twice before putting my finger into the mouth of a lion to ring the bell.

I am a relatively recent fan of The Beatles. Also, I now live in a country where Apple has an iTunes music store. More importantly, I happened to move here just a few months after The Beatles’ entire catalogue became available on iTunes. I’ve been making up for lost time by buying one iTunes LP edition of their album each month.

I am quite impressed at how quickly The Beatles kept re-inventing themselves. Their music covered so much ground that any pop number I now listen to sounds like a derivate work. What I had not done so far was follow the music John, Paul, George and Ringo made after their break-up. I recently came across “Maybe I’m amazed” from Paul McCartney’s first solo album:

Sounds like The Beatles’ solo output is worth pursuing as well!

Caught a beautiful sunset at Scheveningen in Den Haag two weeks ago. We had gone there on a whim. Thanks to a mix up with our OV chipkaarts (the transport smartcard in The Netherlands), we ended up paying for 3 tickets for the two of us. I’ll say this at the risk of being throttled by the wife, who is a little sensitive about losing money this way – the sunset was worth 8!