As promised, this is part 2 of Stories from the Underground, my travelogue on the GCP workshop at Oxford and beyond.

Disclaimer: This post might contains expletives.

Day 3 (21st December)

I woke up and stretched like a cat on my double bed. Having a room for two all for myself was a welcome change from long hours of sitting and waiting around at airports. I glanced at my clock, 6ish. Perfect, I thought. Wrapped up some BSP work, made one of those instant hot chocolate thingie and went for my walk — a considerably longer one because the workshop was over and we were scheduled to depart for Oxford at 10. Video called my folks. I forced myself to take unchartered paths through the woods. It was fascinating to observe a biome so biologically different from one back in the tropics – mosses and lichens were aplenty and so were ferns and temperate-ish flora. The wetness had turned the dirt into mud and my shoes were making squishy noises all along the way.

I also decided to take a hot bath which did wonders to my skin (I have dry skin ;-;) and have a sumptuous breakfast - avocado on bread (bland with a bit of salt, very British), yoghurt, and lots of fruits! Alive and kicking, I knew that today was a long day of travelling around and so was the day next and the next. As A would later remark, our adventure began now.

In all the hush-hush, I was unable to explore the manor itself! So, I went for a walk by the lake and dipped my hand in the chill water. And it was so windy! Oof. Then, I realised it was always windy out here and that was really discomforting. The general coldness was still bearable. But the winds made amazing wave patterns on the water surface and they interfered with other wavefronts and created really cool patterns.

As scheduled and not a minute later, all were onboard the bus that would take us from Bicester back to the Ox. I wanted to sit with someone I would have to make an active effort to converse with. Somehow, I ended up sitting next to Beck, a masters student of human rights and politics at LSE and we had an engaging conversation about “hard questions”; on the merits and demerits of power-sharing systems, democracy in general. Then, we gravitated to British and Indian politics and I had am embarassing time explaining the current right-wing Hindutva politics prevailing in the country and its attack on cultural diversity. shrug.

We reached Oxford around 10:30 and said our final goodbyes. I had officially completed GCP.

The journey to Bath

Osney Arms was a self check-in guest house which was 10 mins walk from the station as per maps. Me and A decided to put our stuff and then decide where to go next. From now onwards, I was pretty much under the aegis of A for money, wisdom, and common sense :P

Self check-in means there was no one at home. I mean, literally no one! The host had shared instructions on how to get the house key which was stored inside a passcode protected safe outside the door. Locating the backdoor and opening the door made me feel like a detective and I thought, “apt only” hehe. Meanwhile, A called the host multiple times because that human-to-human contact is such an integral part of our lifestyle and finding its complete absence here was sort of unsettling (more on this later).

Anyway, we got access to our room and relaxed a bit. By the way, I was simultaneously trying to publish the latest BSP report on the Inter IIT Cultural Meet fiasco. The team had put in a lot of effort and I was happy how it had turned out. Coordinating a project across different timezone was a welcome experience as an editor. Meanwhile, A asked me to look up places to go. Initial plan: Let’s fly to Edinburgh. Flights were around £150 so we dropped it without much debate. Then we considered beach on the West Coast via Bath and Stonehedge. Seemed like an ambitious plan given the time of the day but we quickly booked tickets for Bath on the Great Western Railways mobile app. Incredible app service and user experience once again. The indecisiveness to plan our trip on the go and the ensuing rush was embarassing for 20 year old college kids.

We didn’t exactly go to the station afterwards. The indecisiveness to decide on an outfit was more embarassing for A, I guess, who ironically wanted to get my opinion on it. It was like asking a stone age man to choose the outfit for a WS banker. I tried my best not to disappoint him or myself. I think I did fairly good and learnt much.

Most of the way and most of the trip from now, I kept blabbering and noting random facts. I was glad that A didn’t get too much pissed and he was patient with my company. I was super excited to be criticising the English in their land walking right beside them in a language they don’t understand about how they looted and plundered us and polluted our culture.

Strolling through Bath

The train journey to Bath was a quiet experience partly due to the incredibly well-designed transport system. Trains were punctual to the minute and although we were racing at 80 miles per hour, I didn’t feel a thing inside. £20 a ride. I had conveniently forgotten my charging cables back at Oxford and had 10% charge. Fuck. Will have to click all pictures in A’s phone. Which is when I realised, I am terrible at clicking pictures too ;-;

We reached Bath alright, around 80 miles from Oxford around 2pm. The sun and the clouds were involved in some elaborate wrestling match which could easily be romanticised. We entered a McDonalds because we were hungry. We got out after ~30 minutes because S, the other senior back at home had some coupons that we redeemed but it meant spoofing his account on A’s phone basically. And the instructions to do that were transmitted manually. Over call. I just stood there watching people place their orders, wait for their order, and take their order. I marvelled at the average waiting time which I estimated to be ~5 minutes. Anyways, we got our stuff (I had a meal and chicken nuggets) and started walking towards the Roman Bath on York Street which was supposedly the place where the Romans bathed. I mean, no shit.

Me and A lazed around a lot. We clicked pictures at the Roman Bath and crossed the Pulteney bridge over River Avon (as maps conveniently told us). There were shoped lined up selling a variety of objects and artifacts. Everyone seemed so merry and private. Oh, also, the BBQ sauce had red wine vinegar. The taste of the wine felt strange – it was like iron or kerosene. Roadside performers were singing the best songs of the season, children were running around the city block, people were shopping and talking. I stood there and savoured the gentle humming of humanity.

We roamed into Henrietta Park on the other side of the bank where the restroom funnily devoured A’s 20p without providing access to the restroom! When it finally did open after taking card, it felt like a nuclear stronghold with the worst maintained restroom in the world. I checked my phone, still no internet. Fucking Airtel. I should have just gotten a UK sim for 10 days. Anyways, it was getting dark and we decided to walk back to the city centre. I could make out the green, white, and red of the Palestinian flag. A gruntled at the sight of those and I asked does he support Israel and he said yes. Then, I asked why and he shrugged and said he didn’t know, perhaps because that was India’s stance. Funny how quick we are at forming opinions about things we don’t know about.

English Pubs (and where to find them)

A wanted to try out an English pub so we started walking towards the Raven (Google maps is such a blessing). After a fair bit of walking through some shady bylanes we entered the Raven and it was a cozy little inn choked full of people. Their noises and murmurs formed one general sound. I could spot family reunions, friend group catch-ups, and courtships. It made me wonder how simple and yet complex human desires are – to just not be alone.

But since it was bustling with people, we decided to head over to The Grape (which by the way was also bustling with people). Finally, we decided to take the train back to Oxford and we took a 6:30pm GWR, I guess. There was an interchange at Didcot Parkway. The station names had an unfamiliar harmonious ring to it. It was fun trying to remember them in my head.

In search of our experience at an English pub, we surely landed up at one back at Oxford. The town was basically closed! It was maybe 9 or 10pm. I wanted to have a good dinner and I ordered chicken schnitzel, which is basically a meat patty served with mayo and fries. It was amazing! Not to say, I was terribly hungry. A ordered a beer and offered me which I politely declined. I have been asked too many times why I don’t drink and I seem to have forgotten the real reason. Perhaps, it was because I wanted to have a moral high ground? Or perhaps, I am too afraid to let go of something I have held onto for so long now? Or perhaps, I just have no clue what I’m doing? In any case, I don’t drink. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. So be it.

Food was amazing. They had some concert thing going on the upper levels. I reckoned most of these people were college students or professors. A had ordered some veg bowl which had a lot of greens and legumes. After we finished (and A failed to finish his beer), we headed back to our room. That is, after we roamed around for no reason. The strong gushes of wind made me uncomfortable. Other than that, the weather was perfect¹.

I slept at around midnight, I guess.

Day 4 (22nd December)

Morning in Oxford was lazier than at Bicester. I woke up later at around 7:30 or 8 and decided to head over to have breakfast after quickly freshening up. Here is me trying out some aesthetic photography :P

After much deliberation, we decided to tour Oxford itself for the first half and then head over to London after lunch. The host conveniently agreed to keep our stuff so that was sorted. It was a self-help breakfast buffet system and the kitchen was desolate except for two hungry souls hehe. I had a sumptous breakfast with bread, cheese, and jam. Orange juice was okay but very refreshing. Typical (modern) English breakfast, I thought. Well-stocked, we headed over to our first stop, Oxford Unviersity itself (and yes, this time I didn’t forget my powerbank or the cable!)

Christ Church is one of the oldest and grandest colleges which boasts of an illustrious alumni base – as I would soon learn through my audio guide who kept feeding me interesting nuggets of information in his soothing baritone voice throughout the next 30 mins or so of self-guided tour. College was in session so study areas were restricted but got to go to most of the quads (which are basically courtyards) and the cathedral was amazing. As I stepped into the cathedral, a sense of humbleness and respect gripped me as I realised I’m entering a region of sacredness. It fascinated me to realise how intertwined education and religion was, back in those days. Coincidentally, the pipe organ started playing and most people started humming or bobbing internally. Incredibly detailed artwork on stained glasses telling mythical stories of the Christian faith. I stood in awe studying the sunrays filtering through the coloured glasses as the organ music filled the air.

Oh, we also saw the Great Hall which inspired the Hogwarts dining hall in the HP franchise. The walls were adorned with people who graduated from Christ Church and went on to do lofty things. I peered at the dates; some of them dated back to the 1700s. Holy shit.

After around 30 minutes, I stepped out of the college and waited for A to finish talking to someone on the phone. I popped into a souvenir shop and scanned through the array of…stuff, all of it so English! Bags and cups and keychains and everything else! I stepped out and we headed towards Ashmolean Museum (on my insistence). After 15 minutes at the museum, I realised that A wasn’t interested in the quietness of the museum. So, after resting a bit (and finally catching up with folks over museum WiFi), we again started briskly walking through the streets of Oxford which were crowded than usual for the festive season. We tried to climb up the Carfax tower but it was closed at 3 :/ Oh, by the way, we also picked up hoodies and other souvenirs from a sourvenir shop. I went to a HP souvenir shop and gosh, it was so beautiful. Perfect place to buy a gift for a Potterhead cousin. I’m more of a Tolkien fan, though. I think we had food at another McDonalds and just crashed into a shopping mall for fun. I was simultaneously learning of the existence of so many brands.

Oxford was exciting and fun in its own quiet way. But I looked forward to London. It’s one of those cities like Kolkata or Delhi that left a scar after you are gone, not a memory. And the time had finally come to head over to London. We went back to our humble abode at Osney Arms and colected our stuff repeating the same key-acquiring rite of passage. I took one final look around. I marvelled at how I had stayed in this house overnight without a host. It was a massive departure from the Indian host-guest philosophy where human contact is essential and encouraged. I saw stickers and banners everywhere. An instructioned world where people are too busy to talk to one another. But don’t mistake this “contactless” world for a unmannered one. In my experience, English people were immensely helpful and mannered overall. Anyways…

Once again, we hoped on another GWR to London. We will be deboarding at Paddington (yes, the same station in the movie!) and then head over to our BnB at Soho (kudos to my lovely seniors to take care of all the grudge work ^_^). Oxford to London was approximately an hour of travel. I did some BSP work as the train cruised through the beautiful countryside leaving one farm after another. The sun when it appeared, made beautiful patterns on the lakes and ponds and streams. I wondered how quiet life here would be like. And I mentally prepared myself for the chaos that was London.

No surprises but London didn’t disappoint. It was so full of people, walking, running, brustling, bubbling with energy, talking, shouting, buying, selling – that’s what I thought when I stepped out of the Piccadilly Underground but I’m getting ahead of myself here. I arrived at Paddington and studied the London Underground for the first time. I thought the Delhi metro was complex but this was a totally different beast². I got myself one of those one time tokens when I should have just made my Oyster right away so a little fuck up from my side there. Anyways, we got onto the Underground alright and headed to Piccadilly on the Bakerloo line. The train stopped at Baker Street and the inner kid in me leapt with joy. The Underground was…old. It felt old and used. The carriages were old and made rattling noise in transit. The seats were of velvet cushion but the colour had faded. But nothing seemed non-functional. They charged me £7 for that 20 minutes ride ;-;

I was too tired to argue or use my brain. The shadow of London towered heavy and high over me. I am not ashamed to say but I was quite intimidated by the city whose tales I have read in books. I mean, this is the capital of the country that ruled almost the entire world at its zenith. This is the city that was home to visionaries and leaders. All I wanted was to check-in to my room.

Maps shown that the apartment was 2 mins from Piccadilly. We started walking and quickly realised what had happened. Soho and the West End is the theatre hub of London. At the same time, it also houses a number of strip clubs and other services. I looked at A and laughed. Our BnB had a very high chance of being a brothel in the past. I walked past shops and people selling and buying all kinds of commodities. I waited for A who had gone to find the key. Two women started staring at me. I got extremely uncomfortable. Thankfully, A came back shortly and directed me and the stuff to a sandwiched wooden door between two large shops. We tried to open the door for 2 minutes slightly embarassed because it was a lively street. It opened and we walked in. The apartment was small, waayyy small than the Oxford thingie. It had a washing machine, microwave, basin, etc. It had copies of Vogue, Doir, and Fifty Shades. And a hard-bound copy of some Playboy-like magazine. It was dark outside so peering out the window didn’t help much. The apartment had all the characteristics of being a brothel. It checked out, we were officially staying in a brothel for two days. I tried to appreciate the poetry of life but all I could manage was a giggle.

All warm and comfy and having eaten the breads that I got from Osney’s kitchen, we set out to explore the Big Smoke⁴. It was festive season and past 7pm so we decided to just walk the stretch of Regent Street which was decked up in beautiful lights. And there were so many people of all cultures and nations. Brands and shops spewed lights of all kinds on commuters who were talking to each other and laughing and clicking pictures. A had to keep up with the outpourings of my heart and pretty sure, some of it didn’t make much sense.

I saw the black London cabbie and remembered that BBC episode starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. I saw the red double decker buses which were touring people. I walked through the theatres which had colourful posters of musicals and dramas with a “Now Showing” tag. I watched street performers singing Indian songs, was it “Chammak Challo” from Ra One? I saw rickshaws playing loud music and touring people for fun. I saw halal shops selling hotdogs. I saw McDonalds at every corner. I walked past the dirt and piss and cigarette butts. London really seemed to be the city which didn’t care what happened to me in you. She danced to her own tune.

We finally decided to call it a day and due to some reason, had to head over to Subway. The person at the counter was highly uncooperative, talked rudely, and I had a very bad experience overall. We headed back to room because I had to sort out my TFL travel. It was funny because after setting up everything for contactless payment on my GPay, I realised that NFC is not supported on my phone. Bummer. I laughed it off and went to bed. I’ll have to buy a physical Oyster at the station.

Day 5 (23rd December)

Day started late and somewhat lazily in London. I knew this was going to be another day of touring an alien city. I also realised that this would be my penultimate morning in the UK (hopefully). I freshened up and went for a walk around 8am. The city was sleepy. Hygiene workers were cleaning the dirty streets, spoilt by spilt drinks and burnt ashes. The billboards still glowed like nymphs at sea, alluring passerbys to enjoy theatre. Everything was just the way I had left it in the morning, only brighter. I tried to make sense of my geospatial location (Historically, I’m pretty bad at it) and tried to navigate to new street corners. Well, I almost got lost. But somehow found my way back to that tiny black door on Brewer Street.

Me and A grabbed breakfast at a street corner McDonalds. It was a humble McEgg with cappucino and hash browns. Our location enabled us access to all major places by walking. We came up with an ambitious and tight plan and kickstarted it by visiting the Buckingham Palace (cause why not?). We walked through St. James Park, through meadows and ducks lazily floating on the water. The sky was overcast and there was no sign of the sun. I think it ocassionally drizzled too. The winds were punishing and made me grimace every time it crashed into my chest. We walked into BP and oh God, it was a magnificent sight to behold sans the tourists, of course! The change of guard ceremony was not planned on Saturday but the days before and after. Bummer. The “go inside BP” tours are planned for spring generally. Another bummer.

I got some of my personal favourite pictures clicked here and around :)

I could have stayed all day just sitting there and observing people – the general humming of humanity but we had plans. So, we headed to Westminster and onwards to see the Thames (after all) all aided by the maps app which instructed us to head east. The Westminster area gave the impression of a “business place”. Very few people on the road. Tall skyscrapers that hid their internals through miles of glass. So, this is where capitalism proliferates, I wondered.

The Westminster Abbey was one magnificent sight to behold. This is where the new king of the UK was crowned back in 2022. I noticed that I was getting better at clicking pictures. Few people requested me to click their pictures and I abided. We popped into the Westminster station and popped out of Tower Hill on the District Line. We walked to the Tower of London and saw tours underway. I didn’t feel like going inside (or more like, spending money to go inside) so we just admired its beauty from the outside. I took a turn and finally saw Thames. It was…well, it was a river. I had actually seen it before in Oxford but it was only a stream there. There were shops lining the banks selling all kinds of products and food. People were chattering and walking around. The sun was up and beautiful. The London Eye was in the distance. The skyscrapers blocked most of the sky. We walked along the banks of the Thames and crossed it at the Tower Bridge. I devised a plan to head over to Borough Market to grab food which was…urhmm not one of my greatest plans. A’s phone was about to die and I had to remember the map. It was a loooong walk along the other bank of the Thames but we had to persist. We bought some fries and nuggets along the way and devoured it.

Borough Market was a totally different ballgame. Highly recommend to anyone craving for trying out esoteric food in London. It was a totally vibe-y place. All kinds of shops selling all kinds of food items - wines, cheese, oysters, meats, all for sale and trying out. BM seemed like an enclosure right in the middle of the bustling city. An anomalous piece of space and time disjoint from the work city. It was so crowded with people that I wasn’t walking; I was pushed! I would later draw parallels with New Market and Zakaria Street back home when telling about it to my folks which I think is a fair comparison.

I had a humble piece of garlic bread. A had some kind of fruit pie. I almost vomitted walking past some of the meat shops. It seemed like people were running to their own tune, our eyes would meet, hold for a moment, and then break, and in that moment, we would have socially judged each other. Marvellous how human society has evolved. Anyways, we headed out of the market at around 4 and stopped at a cafe for A had to charge his phone (immediately) and we needed to take some rest and get warm.

We found a place and A ordered some bean rice (which was horrible, by the way). We took our seats and somehow, my silly brain came to the conclusion that the Underground would be closed on the 24th. I got…a bit scared. No, I internally panicked. I tried to call my folks and friends who lived in London. It would be a major pain in the ass to book a cab only for myself to Heathrow because they are shit expensive. It also dawned on me that I would be leaving Heathrow the next day – in less than 24 hours. I also had a concert to catch tonight (more on this later) and one of my very close friends was calling me to his place. I was suddenly required to process a large amount of information.

Well, my panicking was ill-founded as the Underground was working fine on the 24th, atleast the Picadilly (blue) line was, which I quickly verified from a personnel at the station. Talking to that person I realised how I have managed to survive my trip with minimal conversational interaction with Britishers. Hmm. A was making some last minute changes to his plan. He would be leaving for India after two more days and effectively spend Christmas with a friend (I would later discover that it snowed on the 25th * cries *) but I had other commitments at Inter IIT from the 26th. I had to refuse to visit my friend who lived in East Ham and was kinda out of route from Stratford which is the location of the ABBA Voyage concert and where we presented headed.

The Underground was a bliss, followed by a quick change to DLR. The TFL metro app was superbly designed. Loved the minimalist, no-BS design approach. I spotted poetry on the train. Perhaps, the most English thing ever?

I felt a tinge of anxiety regarding reaching the airport on time the next day but for then, it was all taken care of apparently so I decided to enjoy the concert. My transition from serious to not-serious (and vice-versa) happens extremely quickly which maybe a good thing. I immediately got into the groove as tunes of Waterloo flowed into my ears from a distance. I recharged my oyster through the app just for safety and paid with my debit card (!). Yeah, big deal. The ticket was bought by a senior without permission from A or me so it was an extremely sweet gesture on their part. If you’re reading this, (I know you won’t) a big thank you! ^_^

The atmosphere inside the arena was electrifying. People were chattering with friends and family, running around from counter to counter, getting drunk, and in general, buzzing with excitement. A got himself some boozed coffee drink and we headed for the dance floor. They told us not to record and other do’s and don’ts. The show started right on time (!), something I was still getting used to and which I absolutely admired. With the first stroke of light show, four avatars appeared on stage and it took sometime to internalise the fact that the stage was actually empty! I looked around to see people craning their necks to get a glimpse of the AI avatars on stage. My brain told me that this would be the future of entertainment. How crazy to believe that we were clapping and cheering at something that didn’t exist. Clapping at imaginative fiction felt like coming full circle.

It’s surprising how incredibly dark ABBA songs actually are, inspite of the infectious hook and catchy tunes. One could only wonder how difficult it must have been for the two couples to churn out hit after hit while battling personal issues and turning them into disco music.

No more carefree laughter
Silence ever after
Walking through an empty house, tears in my eyes
Here is where the story ends, this is goodbye.
~Knowing Me, Knowing You, ABBA, 1976

I think I missed some songs in the set - Fernando, S.O.S. among the famous ones and also heard some new songs which I hadn’t before. Other people were clearly more learned in the ABBA lore than two Indians who were brought up in a privileged upbringing which glorified Western culture.

We spent some more time at the Soho city centre, just standing and taking it all in and decided not to walk to Trafalgar Square as A was too tired and I didn’t have map support on my practically useless phone. I realised how and why people sacrifice things. Atleast one possible causation vector for it.

I went to sleep at midnight. The next day would be a lot of travelling; 7980 km to be precise.

Day 6 (24th December)

The view outside our room greeted us with sewage pipework. It looked like a Spiderman neighbourhood in the light with steam and smoke billowing out of chimneys and red brick lining the walls. I woke up very early and tried to go through some of the Dior and Vogue copies that lined the bookshelf. My flight was at 1pm so I decided to leave for Heathrow at 9am just to be safe. Another gross overestimated because as I would learn, the LHR security check is a breeze.

Anyways, I had over an hour so I decided to take another walk. This time I downloaded a local map on my phone and aimed to go to Trafalgar Square. It was a 10 minutes walk. As usual, London felt sleepy. I walked past the blingy lights of the West End theatres, past their vibrant posters and into the city centre, I walked past the Chinatown which was decorated with Chinese lanterns and lined with so many restaurants but it was all closed. I walked past a building where supposedly Newton lived from 1710. Cool. I took a turn and there it was – Trafalgar Square in all its glory. Well, it was a city square.

Much recently, I noticed that Aditya Chopra opens DDLJ at Trafalgar with Amrish Puri feeding the pigeons and battling his conscious and justifying his decision to leave his country. I stood there for a few minutes and like any Indian, clicked few pictures. The gallery loomed in the background and the tower stood at the center, accompanied by the fountain thingie. I checked my watch and it was time to leave. The return was far less adventurous especially after I took a wrong turn and ended at a dead-end after trying to be “exploratory”. I peered into one of the bylanes and caught two people making out.

I packed my bag for one final time, hugged, and thanked A and descended the stairs of my Brewer Street abode one last time. The Indian stores selling English merch were just opening up. I popped into the Picadilly Underground and took the blue line.

Talking head

A number of thoughts flowed through my head during my last few hours in London. I reminded myself of the harmonious English accent and tried to repeat the sounds in my head again and again – smool, touak, wauuter, and so on. If you listen carefully, the English also have variations in how they pronounce words and it can be used to place them in exact locations of the country. I was reminded of Prof. Higgins:

I can place any man within six miles. I can place him within two miles in London. Sometimes within two streets.
~Prof. Higgins

I was reminded of standing at the sidewalk in Oxford expecting the car to go but the car stood for me to cross first! Only for both of us to keep standing and that’s how I got my first middle finger (I didn’t see it, A told me about it) I was amazed at this first-class treatment of pedestrians to be honest, something which was once again alien to me. Vehicles here don’t really care when if they run you down so it was, the least of say, a welcome change.

I turned my attention to all the messages I had received from friends and family. Never had my Instagram been this active and buzzing. I replied to all.

My mind turned to the faces I have seen the last seven days. Sheer endurance of people baffled me. I remembered homeless guys sitting outside in the cold and I also peered at people chatting inside expensive restaurants. The human condition is truly peculiar. It’s funny how under the hood, the entire trip has been about judging people. Oh, I just caught a couple kissing on the station.

I wondered about my photography skills; I came a noob and I go back being able to capture decent human pictures. I have truly grown.

My mind turned to the things that couldn’t be such as the trip to St. Pancras’ to see the 9 3/4 platform or 221B Baker Street. But that’s fine I guess. Human desire is never satisfied.

The flight back

I spent my time at the airport watching the new Abhishek Upamanyu standup which was an absolute riot. I was laughing so hard the whole time. It reminded me of home and helped me combat airport loneliness. Thank you, Abhishekji! I remember my LHR-DXB flight getting delayed by an hour and I remember the DXB-CCU flight being delayed by Emirates to accommodate us as we rushed through security. I remember bingeing on a documentary on the album designer group Hipgnosis and Hitchcock’s classic The Birds (fantastic watch, by the way; perhaps my favourite Hitchcock). I remember starting Celine Song’s Past Lives but dozing off due to fatigue. Watched it later and it’s such an endearing storytelling. Emirates’ hospitality was, once again, amazing.

The End³

You might have expected me to tell you stories of valour and conquests – of fucking around in the middle of the night, making out with some random girl in a pub, or pissing on a police car to get arrested or just get into some trouble. But it was nothing like that. I was the most disciplined boy in the UK. Mom and Dad must be proud. But I wonder why.

This is Part 2 of the two-part travelogue on my GCP experience and beyond. Read Part 1 here.

Footnotes

1: As I am writing this sitting in Delhi with temperatures around 14-15, I can only imagine that Delhi cold has a much harsher vibe to it. It feels like 4 or 5 here.

2: Gradually, I learnt to tame the beast. Now, I’m cool with it. I’ve heard Tokyo underground is even more complex. Hmmmm.

3: This post turned out to be around 6K words, that’s twice the size of Part 1!

4: TIL that this is London’s nickname.