#1 – First sublet – a pretty good location in UWS. Subleaser was a lady from Trinidad, very casual, didn’t explain anything. Our oven was broken, so I called asking to get it fixed.

This turned into the landlord finding out that we were subletting illegally, and us getting kicked out of our apartment.

#2 – in ridiculously short notice, we found a second apartment. Our landlord, who called herself the “queen of the east village” has routinely ruining her oven, causing smells in the kitchen, leaving crumbs for ghost mice. Then, she calls me back all apologetic, but never apologetic about what she accused me off. Basically, she’s a schitzo.

# 3 – Wallet. My wallet stolen while playing basketball in Harlem by little kids. In a pack with others wallets, but only mine was stolen.

#4 – Driving Test – This resulted in my not being able to take my girlfriend on her driving test, even though the police department told me that I could drive with a copy and my ID. We woke up at 8AM and took a broken train barely made it to the test site then couldn’t drive.

#5 – GRE – two days later, Young couldn’t take the GRE because her passport was at the embassy being renewed. $150 down the drain.

This doesn’t include the minor annoyances of life in NY, of trying to study for school. This doesn’t include not being to apply for classes because I didn’t have the never-posted prerequsite and didn’t prepare for an exam.

So…I assume things will get better? Either way, im not particularly down.

#5 -

It seems unbelievable that I’ve been in New York City already for a month and a half. Time passes differently in a place where you rarely see the sky. In summer time, you’re merely avoiding the sky and the sun, in the baking city that always feels much hotter than it actually is.

I never loved NY. I came here for one reason – school, and this inner feeling that I should give New York a chance sometime in my youth. Columbia was my top choice, and studying international policy in NYC seemed like a no-brainer. But that was it. I was scared about the urbanity, scared about the lack of nature, and scared about the lack of good Mexican food too.

So, my initial impressions of NYC. Feel free to post your own comments below.

1) Nature. I’m sick of people telling me when I miss nature, that “well, there is central park.” I’ve also barely met anyone who goes camping, or does outdoors activities (going to Long Island or Jersey beaches doesn’t count as outdoor activities). People here really lack any connection to nature.

2) Rules. Compared to the west coast, where rules seem to be made to be broken, New York seems to have rules that have to be broken, with layers of middlemen, just to survive.

3) Can’t let go. I’ve, many times, had people who feel it necessary to complain about one of my actions, possibly wrong or illegal, but in the end, doesn’t affect them at all. Usually, there are bystanders. I think it’s cause people are so miserable, they need to spread the wealth.

Everyone keeps telling me I’ll love it. Sometimes, I think they’re telling me that to convince themselves. As for me, I’ll enjoy my two years here, but NYC has nothing on the other cities I’ve lived in the US. So far, I prefer LA, SF, SD, and even Kansas City.

I can’t fathom people who love a place that is so artificial. Sure, it’s fun. Sure, it’s diverse. But it’s a concrete jungle, a city that’s alive at night, that’s artificially hot, where people leave the doors open. Other contradictions bemoan me – how can New Yorkers claim to be green when there are no recycle bins anywhere, no citywide compost, and the stores are allowed to keep their doors open, wasting loads of energy?

My life for almost 10 days was summed up above. Waking up while the moon was still out, shining bright light onto the golden cliffs of the lower Sierra foothills just south of Yosemite. I was enclosed, as the teacher said, in a prison, a tiny area which I could walk in just 10 minutes, the same few walking trails again and again.

My only companions the sounds of nature and chanting. Everything else, Noble Silence.

–

I arrived in the middle of the day, day 0. I went in, registered, and walked back to my car for one last time. I was overcome with emotions, fear, realizing that this was it, I was here for 10 days. I’d have one last chance to connect with the outside world, so I reached in for my cell phone.

Shock.

No reception.

Waves of fear swept through my body. My hands shook. I shuddered.

For the next 10 days, I was alone. Disconnected. No books. No writing. No Pens. Nothing except my thoughts for 10 days.

–

Day 1. I awoke to the sound of the gong ringing at 4AM. I awoke, making sure to not communicate with my roommate, an actor from LA whom I’d only met briefly before noble silence had begun. I walked down the hill in the cold mountain air, the moon bright. Every morning I would make this walk, and slowly I began to notice the subtle changes in nature. The moonlight was less bright night by night, while the sun rose a little earlier every day. The flowers were blooming, but in different places everyday. The wind was always sightly different.

I began to notice the subtle changes of nature, underlying the theme of the whole retreat – impermanence.

Are any of us ready to accept our own impermanence?

–

For the first few days, as I walked down the sole male walking trail alone, images of me leaving walked through my head. Yet I stayed resolute – with the idea that this was the hardest thing I had ever done, and if I failed at this, then, I couldn’t expect to succeed in anything in life.

I felt deep inside that I could do this.

The meals were surprisingly good – well cooked vegetarian fare. Eating in silence produced a conundrum, as we sat stone faced, isolating ourselves as much as possible. With my aching back, I choose to eat inside, where the seats had backs, rather than in the benches outdoors as many of the others choose. Not missing meat, I did take more than my fair share of cheese.

–

I celebrated the milestones. 1/5 done with the course. 1/3 done with noble silence. Each evening, I eagerly awaited the discourse, where we learned the history and peculiarities of Vipassana meditation from S.N. Goenka, the founder of this meditation center, via video. His speaking style was excellent, as was his storytelling, often keeping me captivated for the entire hour.

We were in bed by 9:30, not saying goodnight to each other.

–

Day 9. I can’t say it came faster than I expected, the slog was tough every day. But it came. The last day of noble silence. Slowly I could feel the meditation making a difference – I could feel sensations throughout my body, slowly but surely, even though a few rounds of intense meditation left me exhausted and needing a break. I could sit still for an entire hour, and I began to feel moments of complete mental silence.

I would stand outside at a point in the walking trail where we could see a view of the Sierra foothills and look out into the world. Every day, it changed slightly, but was essentially the same. I wondered what was going on in the outside world, but I didn’t wonder too much. Because whatever was happening, it wasn’t effecting this view, or this center. I stood, feeling the air on my face, listening to the sounds of birds and leaves bristling through the air.

For a few moments, I felt pure silence, and just observed the world, as it is.

–

On Day 10, the silence was broken. Exuberant, if a bit timid due to avoiding others eyes and keeping our mouth shut for so long, we spoke to each other, until we couldn’t stop.

Even though we hadn’t spoken in 9 days, we’d all trekked the same path, independently, but concurrently. Our experiences were all different, yet shared a common thread. We had done it. We had succeeded in doing something totally opposite to the rigors of modern society, tested ourselves and made it.

–

Would I do it again. Definitely. Once was not enough.

I can’t remember the first time that I heard about Columbia. Probably, it was back in elementary school, when they told us about the greatest Universities in the world, the Ivy Leagues. But New York City was nothing but a ghostly enigma to me, a city I’d never seen, didn’t have any interest in seeing. My life was pointed decidedly westward, towards my birthplace, my destiny firmed in California.

It wasn’t until graduation, and not until I’d visited many of the great cities of Europe before I, along with many of my friends from California, set foot in New York. Cold, a big suffocating, and drab, the city left me eager to learn more. I returned two years later, after traveling around the world, with a new goal in mind.

Graduate School.

I remember stepping into the large, grey concrete edifice that is the School of International Public Affairs, SIPA, taking the slow elevator up to the conference room. I immediately felt inadequate. The person in front of me was a graduate of Oxford, and had worked in Africa for many years. To my right, a Harvard graduate who’d had several articles published.

And me? A guy who graduated with an unrelated degree (communication) and who’d just spend 13 months traveling.

–

You know the rest of the story (if not, click on these tags – San Francisco, Barack Obama, 2008, and Iowa). Two years later, with a much stronger resume, and more focus, I reapplied, got accepted, and this fall, I’m eager, if nervous, to start the next adventure in my life.

Life works in strange ways. I departed, after quitting my job, to Europe for five weeks, mostly to decompress from two years of office work. I’d quit my job without knowing if I’d gotten into any of the three schools that I had applied for, nor with any other plan if graduate school failed. I had about five thousand dollars that slowly began to get burned by the exchange rate in Europe (not as fast as expected, though, thanks Greece!)

I ignored those thoughts and tried, successfully, to have fun. Then I flew home, exhausted. The next morning, I woke up. Checked my email while my parents drank coffee.

Columbia.

Oh shit.

….

I GOT IN!

Thank you life!

—

So I’m moving to New York this fall. I couldn’t have imagined this five years ago. But it does mean the end of my California dream. For my entire life, California was the beacon of hope, and for the past nine years since I graduated from College, it was essentially, my home. Though I left often, whether to study abroad, travel, or return to Kansas for a summer, it was my base. Now, I am truly saying goodbye as life leads me in other directions.

Bon Voyage, California. You’ll always be in my heart, but, I don’t think I’ll be back.

>

I think this might be the start of a new trend? From my friend Divya:

I had an interesting story to share with you. Some friends of my parents were considering different names for their son (due in December). They happened to be looking over my shoulder on facebook, and you were online on chat. They saw your name and fell in love with it. They are now naming their son Nithin.

: )

I, for one, can’t wait until the day when Americans everywhere can pronounce my name correctly.

We were walking up to the mountain in the center of Montreal, from which the city gets it’s name, through the dense forests of bare, winter trees, with a spattering of pine providing glimpses of green. Like almost everywhere I’ve been since starting my travels in January, Montreal, like Utrecht, Berlin, Paris, Munich, Chicago, and Montpellier, is supposed to be much nicer in the summer.

Montreal, my friends Simon and Chantal, who I’d met in Granada, Spain, told me, is amazing in the summer.

At the top of Mont-Royal, we could see a vista of the city. Though the vista was beautiful, it wasn’t spectacular. From here, Montreal looked like any other typical North American city.

My girlfriend, Young, said it best, “It’s must more beautiful from below.”

From below, looking up from the street, Montreal was eclectic. With few buildings taller than 2 or 3 stories, the winding, outdoor staircases on every building, the red brick atmosphere, and pervasive street art, and some of the best breweries I’d ever been to anywhere in the world, Montreal was spectacular not in it’s grand edifices, but in it’s details. To enjoy Montreal, you had to see what was in-between the lines.

Rare that I find a city I think I could live in. But Montreal…perhaps. Perhaps.

Photos coming soon!

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Right now, I’m in Ann Arbor, Michigan, visiting my friend Pelumi Osoba, after spending a few days in Chicago with my friend Varun. From here, I go east for several weeks, then make my way back across the country to Kansas City, then Los Angeles for a wedding. At least, that’s the plan…