Hey there, Aunty. Listen up, because there’s something I gotta say.
‘Sup Aunty?
I tend to hesitate whenever I see you or any other older brown woman in a sari or a salwar kameez slowly strolling on the sidewalk, especially in Suburbia, USA. I’m just out here for my daily run, but I’m afraid of what will pass through your mind and eventually be expressed on your face.
Even though I consciously slow down my pace, I cringe knowing that as soon as I race by, you will take one look at my crop tank and booty shorts and immediately begin judging.
As much as I want to believe that you and these other aunties are woke and would not be bewildered by the sight of a young desi woman running in, well, running clothes, my mind harkens back to my teenage years and the fears I had regarding my own mother’s judgement.
Spaghetti straps were taboo, but even sleeveless tops had my mother giving me the side-eye. The one time I managed to purchase a mini skirt with my own money from American Eagle in high school? I made sure to always pair it with leggings…even when we took a family trip to Tahoe in the middle of a Californian heat wave.
Despite having my Western fashion monitored with hawk-eye precision, I never had issue with “dressing the part” in desi environments. However, despite walking into temples in a long, baggy salwar kameez (nevermind the scorching heat…), never forgetting to wear pottu, and wearing my hair in a simple ponytail, the stares from you and other aunties never seemed to cease.
But then I grew up, and moved away from home. As I slowly re-pieced my wardrobe with things more appropriate for a twenty-something, I felt more confident in picking out more “adventurous” clothing.
It was never a shopping spree out of spite. I knew the difference between trendy and trash.
That glittery dress that happened to hit me mid-thigh but was full-sleeved? ✅
That tube top that matched well with a pair of harem pants? ✅
Those cut-off shorts paired with a thick black moto jacket (ya know, for those Californian winters 😁)? ✅
For me, it was never about showing too much…I just wanted to be able to have a choice in what to show.
Did you know I ran my fastest pace in months the day I wore this?
But I guess the constant fear of judgement by you and other women still haunts me. There have been a number of occasions where I found my fingers quick to zip up a jacket, or to pull down the hem of my shorts after sitting down, just to make sure I didn’t risk becoming a target of a staredown.
But Aunty, this is what you and your sisters need to understand:
👊🏽Wearing “Western” clothing doesn’t make you a slut.
👊🏽 In this day and age, most women wear “provocative” clothing to feel good about their bodies and themselves.
👊🏽 So what if a guy looks over? That’s his problem. Not ours.
👊🏽 And the reason he looked over? Probably because we know we are BOMB AF and not afraid to flaunt it.
When she got a PhD and ain’t afraid to look back at it 👊🏽
Be proud of the fact that the next generation of desi women are strong, fearless, financially independent, and intelligent.
And we are aware of our roots. Just so you know, wearing a sports bra in public won’t change that.
Uh-huh, life’s like this Uh-huh, uh-huh, that’s the way it is ‘Cause life’s like this Uh-huh, uh-huh, that’s the way it is
-Canadian Kween, Avril Lavigne
Back in the early 2000s, I thrived as an outgoing, bubbly third-grader, known to her peers as a funny, friendly girl with tan skin and long, straight black hair. My laugh was infectious, and I remember picking up mild sarcasm from my Dad, as well as a fascination with puns.
Needless to say, Spongebob was the man.
One of my favorite things about going to elementary school in northern California those days was the fact that seasons had their appropriate weather. On a cold, rainy day in winter 2002, we were blessed with rainy day recess. I was so excited to play “Heads Up, 7UP” or some other fun game that required the sequestering of 8-9 year olds in the same room, with no outdoor activities to distract the more “rambunctious” kiddos.
“I HAVE ARRRRIIIIVVVEEEDD!!” I remember screeching as I entered the room giddy with excitement.
I wasn’t expecting the cold look from my teacher, however, and what followed.
“Priya! That is no way to enter a room! Walk back out RIGHT now and enter appropriately!” she yelled.
I was absolutely shocked. Here I thought my vivacious demeanor would be received with laughter and warmth from my “favorite” teacher at the time. Instead, I was left feeling like a fool and ashamed for my actions.
Seriously, Mrs. K?
How dare ya, bitch.
I did exactly what I was told. I didn’t dare question why Mrs. K reacted that way. Perhaps she was having a stressful day that day, and wanted to be anywhere but in a classroom filled with loud, sugar-hyped kids. Still, no reason to take it out on a kid…don’t they teach you that when you get your teaching degree?
I wouldn’t say that it was a life-changing moment, but it made me more cautious in my interactions with others as I grew older. This was also around the time that my mom began to show signs for schizophrenia—remarking about voices telling her to do things, distancing herself from people, finding ways to blame others for occurrences that impacted her world—and even as her close family, we were not immune to the effects of her disease.
I had to quickly learn her triggers. Not bring up things to her that involved birthday party invitations or look like I sided with my Dad during arguments they had. Anything to prevent her from yelling at me for hours or sending me to “time-out”.
I wanted peace and happiness more than anything, but I quickly had to master the art of walking on eggshells.
This feeling has permeated into my social life, for sure. As I approached middle school, I hid away the “extrovert” side of my personality—wrapped thickly in a blanket and tucked away somewhere in my heart—until I could fully trust the person enough to share that side of me with them. Instead, I quickly adopted the adjectives of “quiet”, “shy”, and “introverted”, from classmates and teachers alike.
These girls were the only ones in my life who were able to see all sides of me. I could truly be myself around them. No worries about eggshells 🙂
I realized that I hated being asked questions that involved “favorites”, unless it had to do with food or color. Why did it matter what my favorite music or actor or movie or TV show was? Whatever my answer was, it was quickly responded with depreciating laughter from my peers. I didn’t want to explain, and I had no energy for it…
The easiest thing to do was say, “I don’t know”, “It always changes…”, or the classic “Hehe, pretty much everything except country! Eww, country…”
Little did they know that Shania Twain was my lady, and that country music was a part of our family’s roadtrip playlists along with Fleetwood Mac and Celine Dion 🤷🏽♀️.
As I got past high school and my college years fighting with the same issues, I naively thought things could change as I planned my leave for graduate school. Given the opportunity to live independently and have full control of my life matters, I thought that I could easily transition into being myself again and feeling comfortable in front of a more general audience. Little did I know that out in the real world, especially Los Angeles, decency towards one another was just a minor recommendation.
After living in LA for the past 5.5 years with roommates and crazy-ass landlords, as well as having to navigate how to handle the crazy personalities of the people I often came across, I learned that a) I have a very high tolerance for dealing with irascible people and b) life is too short to not surround yourself with genuine and caring people.
In my first two years living apart from family, I was graced 🙄 with the presence of quirky roommates. Oil-splayed-stove-top-messy, passive-aggressive young ladies who I’d have frequent air-conditioning wars with.
I’m sorry, but who is able to sleep comfortably in a room 80 degrees Fahrenheit?!
At the time, I wasn’t one who was quick to jump aboard the confrontation train. I tried to compromise at times, and even though we agreed to keep the room at a balmy 75, no more or no less, my roommates were not quick to adjust the thermostat when the number steadily creeped up during the unbearably hot LA summers.
So I thought I hit the jackpot when it came time for my lease renewal, and I found an “out” through a room rental in Santa Monica. Just my luck that it was in a house owned by an older couple my Dad and I nicknamed the “The Onions”, due to their wrinkly, purple-tinged skin 😬.
My close friends are bewildered by the fact that I lived there for two years…surviving on crockpot dinners that were a source of drama when I first moved in (apparently, cooked broccoli made the older man recoil in disgust, yet I didn’t say a word when they cooked smelly fish…). I was used to weird house rules like squeegee-ing the shower door immediately after use, specifically stacking my 3 cups of yogurt on the left side of the fridge, and not using the kitchen for “heavy cooking”…my mom trained me well not to be so shocked by odd-ball orders 😛.
I was given a year of reprieve when my sister and I had a chance to share an apartment in Anaheim soon after, and boy did I cry when she left for Austin. Thinking I would soon be out of SoCal anyways due to post-doc plans elsewhere and graduation, I opted for another room rental to save money.
As luck would have it, I ended up with Cruella (name obviously changed, but well-deserved…), who seemed normal—but was she? Even she seemed like an odd-ball in her texts—writing in caps, misspelling my name even though my signature and rent payments gave her a blatant clue—but I didn’t let it bother me since my rent would be lower than ever before, and I wouldn’t have to leave Orange County.
I was used to weird by now anyways. Heck, I should have gotten my PhD in “handling weird-ass people” because that became my side-job once I moved to LA, unbeknownst to me. As months went on at Cruella’s, I realized that the weirdest aspect of it all was the fact she would only communicate through text. Even if she was in the house.
Uh…come again?
Again, I didn’t think too much of it. I’d say “hi” to her if I did see her, chat with her in the kitchen if we were there at the same time, and as usual, I kept to myself to avoid any drama. Most importantly, I paid my rent on time without fail.
Damn, I’m the most perfect tenant. Landlords be lucky to have me 🙄.
But then, the most bizarre thing happened. After coming home from work one day, I came across Cruella and her small dog, said hello, and made my way into the kitchen to prep a quick salad to eat in my room, per usual. Her dog came over to sniff me, which I have no issue with because hello, #DogLover right here.
Without thinking of what was to come, I took my dinner up to my room and began to mentally unwind from my exhausting work day when my phone buzzed several times. I didn’t think much of it, until I swiped to find scathing, accusing texts from Cruella saying I had kicked her dog.
Where. was. this. craziness. coming. from.
Where was she getting this from?! My heart began to race, even though I had nothing to be guilty for. My attempts to rationalize with her and figure out why she would make such accusations were futile. To drive a blade even further into my flesh, she left a threatening audio message driven by vitriol and anger, absolutely convinced that I would do something so uncharacteristic of me.
I tried to get her to come out to talk to me, but she wouldn’t budge. What can you do when you try to rationalize with irrational?
The only other way I could think of communicating with her was via a third-party, my hugest advocate in life, my dad.
My poor dad was the recipient of verbal vitriol as well. My heart sunk when I came back into the house after calling him outside in almost tears. I could hear Cruella yelling into her phone—calling me everything from evil to a brat to conniving to mean—these were words that were not describing me, but the bitch that was her. And yet, I felt defeated.
Miraculously, things did cool down. My dad having dealt with his share of bipolar, schizophrenic, mentally-ill people in his life, was able to get her to calm down and “reconsider” kicking me out. She didn’t apologize, but she was willing to “tolerate” me until I was able to move out…
Seriously, what just happened.
For the next six weeks, I did not come across her in physical form at all. Needless to say, the whole situation was freaky, and the definition of walking on eggshells.
Oddly enough, but not surprisingly, she made her appearance again slowly weeks after the debacle had passed, acting as if nothing had happened of course. I still thought she was a psychotic bitch, but with the impending crisis of corona and my new post-doc plans still delayed, I didn’t want unnecessary drama to spark too early…
I didn’t have to worry about that though, because Cruella’s mind was churning. The coronavirus hysteria was definitely freaking out the bipolar bitch…
She began to worry, and her voices probably started talking to her again. The incessant text messages bothering me about one thing or another would not stop.
Also, what is a BATHROOM waste basket if not for things like, um, sanitary pads and I dunno, things you would use in the bathroom 🤔
The reason this message ticked me off? Because I was doing everything in my power to be a good tenant, to NOT cause drama, and most of all, to not have to deal with her psychosis. The way she assumed I don’t like to clean when ha, I’m a stickler when it comes to cleanliness and organization? I was sick and tired of her berating me and having to “put up with it”.
I had had enough, and I tried to respond to her in a professional manner which also expressed my annoyance with her:
The clap back 👏
Despite the professionalism, you can’t expect that from someone who has already exhibited signs of CRAZY. She responded with an audio message calling me all sorts of names (not worth typing out…) and a “30 day notice” to leave.
I gladly accepted. I was absolutely done with her. Couldn’t have happened at a better time.
I didn’t respond to her last comment. The immaturity threshold was beyond off the charts at this point. As much as my blood was boiling, tears were streaming, and emotional trauma stirring. I tried to let it go…I’d be with family soon enough.
It’s true when they say that trying, challenging times bring out the best and the worst in people. Unfortunately, I was a victim of the latter. These situations have made me quite wary of people in general, but at least I have mastered the art of walking on eggshells 🤔? In a way, I’m motivated now more than ever to, going forward, secure long-term financial stability to ensure I can live alone and not have to worry about clashing personalities.
Through all of this, the most important lessons I’ve learned are to be unapologetic for who I am, and that if anyone questions my integrity, you better believe my fighting side will come out.
And yours should to, because no one has the right to judge—or even worse— make false accusations about you.
I don’t have time for impatient, mean, judgemental, crazy bishes ✌🏽
The COVID-19 pandemic is something everyone living on this earth currently will have a story for. Shared frustrations, sadness, lessons learned, and renewal are only a few things we will be seeing documented in copious books, documentaries, social media captions, TV shows, movies, and blog posts (like this one) to come.
For me, corona initiated a transition for the world that was in line with my life’s transition. Of course, corona has significantly delayed my sojourn to Italy, but it also brought with it an opportunity to work remotely without the usual stressors, and to spend an indefinite amount of time with family. Things that I am especially grateful for.
Despite the impending doom, I took solace in the rising sun above Fullerton train station’s parking lot in the few weeks before obliging to work-at-home orders. Despite feeling weary at that time, I found a renewed sense of energy from the SoCal sun.
In the weeks leading up to stay-at-home orders and lockdowns, I already felt uneasy—in my living space at the time, the uncertainties of my work visa for Italy, and the emotional ennui of my life in general. Here I was, eager to start anew in a foreign land, ready to make friends and forge new relationships while advancing my career, when the one thing that gets in my way opposes all of that.
My last weekend in SoCal for an indefinite amount of time, and my heart was hurting. For about one hour that Sunday weekend, I was able to forget about it all and allow the beauty of Upper Newport Bay seep into my soul…
Given my life circumstances at the time, I got the okay from by boss to work remotely since my current lab work conveniently allowed for it. And knowing the tribulations of my living situation, my Dad was eager to have me stay with him for a while, and I was more than happy with that—even if it meant taking a hiatus from Cali things and joining him in Oklahoma.
Los Angeles looked so forlorn anyways…
DTLA on a Wednesday morning. Unbelievable…
I spent the first week of LA county’s stay-at-home order moving things out from my residence at the time and wrapping up as much things as I could in-person in the lab. In late March, I arrived in Tulsa, on a lucky flight that hadn’t been cancelled…
I felt so relieved to be in a place where I was free to be myself and feel safe and comfortable for the first time in a long time. However, it took me a while to really get used to the whole idea that everything would be shut down/restricted. It got to the point where even tennis courts were chained up, which came as a disappointment to my Dad and I.
At least the outdoors weren’t “cancelled”.
Being an explorer on Turkey Mountain
In the earlier weeks of corona, my Dad and I spent a good amount of time getting “lost” on hikes on local trails, like Turkey Mountain.
Turkey Mountain Trails
Turkey Mountain is a whole ‘nother world on the outskirts of Tulsa. It’s a protected local wildlife/trail area, and even though we made our hikes at high noon, the trails had a fair share of bikers, dog walkers, and runners—conscious of abiding to the 6 feet apart ideal.
Fortunately, I was able to make a lot of time for running during this time, but of course, not without nagging Achilles’ tendon pain, plantar fascitis, and other aches/pains. But because this was a rare opportunity of having “extra” time to devote to fitness, I wanted to make sure running was a priority again.
Run Pree, Run!
Speaking of running, this was the first time in all of my Tulsa visits that I managed to run consistently in other places besides Riverside (another local trail that is popular). I found my favorite running route to be very close to (my parents’) home.
A) Because there is something about long, distant roads that makes a runner’s heart swoon,
A road to somewhere…
Just so pretty!
and B) the animals one runs into are A-DOR-A-BULL (get it? 😅)
A neighbor’s baby moos 😘
I’ve stopped for more dogs, cows, cats, goats, rabbits, caterpillars, butterflies, and spiders mid-run than ever before 😂.
As well as ducks, geese, and…herons??
When you think of Oklahoma, hills and mountains don’t really come to mind, but the La Fortune Park area in Tulsa is full of them. The park itself is hilly, so it can serve as the setting for some awesome hill repeats.
La Fortune Park (my favorite side of the park lol)
The park is right next to St. Francis Hospital, on Yale which is literally a giant hill. I like running up Yale, and crossing the street onto a huge green lawn. If you make it to the top, you’re in for some nice views of the city.
🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Staying with family also meant constant access to home-cooked meals. So grateful for a Dad who enjoys cooking, as much as he loves sharing morning coffee, mid-morning PB&Js and more coffee, and tea and mini samosas before heading out for evening tennis games or walks.
Felt like I was home from college for the 3 months I was staying-at-home with family.
As time progressed during the stay-at-home orders, I wasn’t sure how things would ultimately be for me eventually…yes, I had plans for Italy, but I had my days where I doubted if that was going to even happen. April was just a chaotically somber month on a global scale…
All that running in April also led to a bad Achilles tendon injury in my left foot, which made me turn to a local podiatrist for laser therapy. It was an annoying 6 weeks of having to deal with nagging pain on runs, and limiting mileage in general.
Though that didn’t stop me from having fun on the runs I did go on that month.
On a path to Veteran’s Park in Jenks, OK
Despite the nagging pain, the doc said it was OK to continue running if I watched my mileage and pace. I took this as an OK to continue on with my exploratory nature, running a reasonable distance to local parks and back.
“Jumping for joy” at the beginning of a “new-to-me” trail.
Veteran’s Park ended up being one of my favorites since I ended up befriending two ducks and a geese family—momma, poppa, and a fuzzy babe!
As weeks wore on, I got used to the lifestyle I was living, the routine I had, and the flexibility of my schedule. So much so, that when I finally got confirmation about being able to plan for Italy again, I started to feel a tinge of heart-brokenness. Life was picking up again, but it was going to break my heart to leave my Dad after such an unexpectedly long, (mostly) blissful stay.
The week before leaving, we drove down to Texas for some personal errands, but also used it as an excuse to meet up with my sis in Austin—since with Italy back on the table, I wasn’t sure how soon I’d be able to see her again!
We were only with her for about 3 hours in the evening, but we got plenty of things done during that time—like, acquainting ourselves with her cat Autumn, and having a to-go vegan dinner from Counter Culture, which we ate outside at a picnic table in horridly humid weather, accompanied by mosquitoes…
(Left to Right; Top to Bottom – 1) Hangin’ with Miss Autumn, 2) Dusk views of UT Tower, 3) I can see the Texas Capitol?, 4) TURTLE POND!, 5) CAMPUS CAT!, 6) UT Parking Structure because why not…)
It was a short, but sweet evening. I felt a little depressed after we left my sister, since I knew my stay with family would be coming to a definite close. It’s the biggest tease life can throw at you—the opportunity to stay with loved ones for an indeterminate amount of time, followed by an abrupt parting.
The last pic I took with the sis <3
————————————————– 𝕊𝔾𝔻 ————————————————-
Before corona,I was exhausted with life. I was tired of Los Angeles. I was tired of being surrounded by people who lacked ambition, and those who constantly complained about what they didn’t have. Their selfishness and callous attitudes were rubbing off on me, and my tolerance for human beings was at an all-time low. I found solace in spending time with shelter animals because they lifted my mood back up after a hard work week.
I was looking forward to leaving for Italy because in my mind, it was a ticket to a new, exciting experience. I was craving adventure in all aspects, and I wanted to drop everything and just fly over!
During corona,I put all of these thoughts on hold. The circumstances initially fueled my disgust for humankind further. I felt like there was no hope to be had in people. I was fortunate to be able to work remotely and live comfortable with family, but not knowing the outcome of anything was aggravating, to say the least. Seeing the cases rise in Italy for weeks was discouraging. I had days that I pondered over “back-up plans”. I put learning Italian “on hold”. Motivation was at an all-time low…
After (?) corona(perhaps I should say, when Italy was ready for me…), I had to put my big girl pants on again. After spending almost 3 months of quality time with my Dad—something I hadn’t done since 2013/2014 before starting my PhD (!!)—I was not enthusiastic about going out into the world again…especially one that was battered by the aftermath of a pandemic.
The truth was, when people asked me afterwards if I was “SUPEREXCITEDABOUTGOINGTOITALY?!”, my heart wasn’t in the “yes” that was my reply. Obviously, months of unplanned events had an effect on my thoughts and outlook for the future.
My enthusiasm would take time to grow again, and I had to accept that. At least I had my good health in all of this 💛.
How has the COVID-19 pandemic changed your outlook on life?
On my most recent trip to India, one of my cousins asked what I would like (as a gift), but I’m not one to be picky about gifts just for visiting family! Of course, I brushed off her offer (politely, haha), but she insisted.
Knowing I’m the “researcher” of our clan of cousins, she gifted me with a book by a favorite author of some of my uncles and my Dad: The Body by Bill Bryson.
The Body by Bill Bryson
It was a hefty book to bring back from India, but I was curious to see what Bryson, a master of science communication, had to say on the broad topic of the human body.
Table of Contents
In an effort not to end up writing a blasé book review (because that is not my intention…), my focus will be on specific points Bryson brings up that I found fascinating, intriguing, and even controversial given the all-too-fresh COVID-19 pandemic.
As you can tell from the length of the Table of Contents, it seems to me as if no sub-topic of the human body was left abandoned…
Within the first couple of pages, you can tell that Bryson has a way of describing the components of the human body with humorous curiosity.
When talking about skin and hair…
He also threads in history throughout the book, noting the quirky, weird, and heroic actions of scientists back in the day, and how their fascinations led to the discoveries we know of today.
There’s also a mix of sociology, with one quote that really stood out:
It makes you think, doesn’t it? That skin pigmentation—the very thing that stirs up wars, targeted-violence, and micro-aggressions—arises from a sliver of skin approximatey 1 millimeter thick.
You could probably guess that my obsession with the “skin chapter” indicates my overall fancy of the book, and you wouldn’t be far off. I found some chapters more interesting than others—for example, a few chapters in, when I got to “The Chemistry Department”.
The section itself discusses the history and difficulties of treating hormone-based disorders, but what caught my attention was the complications with oxytocin, and how the difficulties of studies focused on it describe the trials and tribulations of biomedical research in general.
Oxytocin is famously known as a “motherly” hormone, in the sense that it is what drives the emotional connection between mother and child; it drives uterine contractions in childbirth and induces the production of breast milk. It doesn’t stop there though—Bryson notes that the hormone also plays a huge role in facial recognition and helping us to interpret moods in other people.
You’d think that in vivo animal studies would help us elucidate oxytocin’s mechanisms, but it has done the opposite. In a rat-based study, females given oxytocin were driven to increase production of nests and care for pups even if they were born to a different mother. On the other hand, oxytocin clinically administered to humans had no effect or rather, a negative effect, causing patients to experience more aggressive and less co-operative behaviors. The point is, the very insignificant size of a hormone belies the huge impact it has on our body.
What caught my attention as well was the the “Deep Breath” chapter. The fact that I landed into a discussion about sinuses and lungs in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic seemed like more than a coincidence—this book was published in October 2019, and after I read about the nature of a sneeze, I was wondering why on earth the CDC didn’t recommend the usage of face masks by the general public much earlier at the onset of the pandemic…
Bryson highlighted the work of Dr. Lydia Bouroubia of MIT, a “sneeze expert” if you will. Sneeze droplets can travel up to approximately 26 feet and can drift in the air for 10 minutes before landing on surfaces. A sneeze itself was found to be comparable to a sheet of liquid film versus a collection of individual droplets flying out separately, but together. Temperature also plays a role in how sneeze droplets fuse together, an action more favorable in colder weather.
All of this would have been valuable information for the general public to be aware of pre-COVID. But perhaps these times have ignited a curiosity for people to further their understanding of infections and how they spread…I only hope.
If I’m mentioning covid, might as well highlight the “When Things Go Wrong” chapter. It’s uncanny how Bryson’s paragraphs on epidemics is so fitting for the times. Given that it takes months—years even—from the inception of a book to its release on bookstore shelves, you could almost say Bryson’s depth of (digestible) information on infectious diseases was a foreshadowing event. Like, Bill Gates Ted Talk circa 2015 level.
“A successful virus is one that doesn’t kill to well and can circulate widely,” Bryson writes, when he discusses the 1918 Spanish flu: an epidemic that thrived because of the contagion’s persistence and contractability. On the other hand, Ebola tends to be highly lethal but this characteristic lends it to be slow-spreading.
To me, the most striking characteristic about (most) infectious diseases are their origins—their zoonotic origins. Whether you consume animals or not, the data is there to interpret. The domestication of animals brought along with farming and agriculture also brought along leprosy, plague, tuberculosis, typhus, diphteheria, measles, influenzas, and coronaviruses…
I think nature is giving us big clues about something…
————————————————– 𝕊𝔾𝔻 ————————————————-
Overall, the publication of Bryson’s book and when I read it could not have happened at a “better” time—a time of a newfound respect for things science. The discoveries that make science take patience, organization, and creative thinking that only certain individuals may find solace in, but its communication should not be restricted.
Bryson does an amazing job distilling the biology, throwing in creative descriptions, and chuckle-worthy anecdotes to make the human body a topic more approachable to the layperson…and it needs to be.
COVID-19 has proved/continues to prove that it is imperative for the general public to have a solid understanding of science. Like I said earlier, the simple observation that a sneeze is more of a liquid sheet versus individual droplets sprayed out sporadically in various directions paints a better picture for someone, who can then make a conscientious decision to wear a face mask and understand why they should.
Need a good read?
Want to come out of this pandemic feeling like an expert in biology?
Then I recommend this knowledge-packed piece of literature. 👌🏽
If you ask me if a little over 24 hours is enough to spend in Dubai, I’d say, plenty. Especially if you’re traveling with a dad who reached his point of exhaustion before even making it to our final destination (India) and a sister sensitive to overwhelming crowds after being sleep-deprived for 14 hours…
Dubai, tryna be all impressive 😹
When it comes to artificial landscapes and hellacious weather, I’d be the first one to find a fast excuse to hightail on out of spending more time than necessary in the place of question. But given that a cousin we hadn’t seen in 13 years was living in “Brown People Vegas” with her husband and two grade-school twin kids, that was our rationale for making a Dubai Detour.
I once overheard some Europeans raving about visiting Vegas, Arizona, and Southwest USA in general because of the desert landscape—something nonexistent in the fresh countries of Europe. But if you ask me, I’d rather spend time in the artic, rainforest, or ocean before choosing the desert. I can never wrap my head around the idea of wanting to spend time being hot. I don’t care about sand dunes, if my skin is at risk of being fried, I’ll pass.
My cousin did ask us beforehand if we had any ideas of what
we’d like to do in Dubai within our short period of time visiting. She brought
up a desert safari in which we could crash into sand dunes and dine in the
desert, but my dad, knowing he was going to feel exhausted AF even before we
departed the US, shot that idea down. If India wasn’t on our agenda, I would
have been on-board with the idea, but I was hoping that she would toss in some
more ideas that were, erhmmm, less physically taxing?
We never came to a real consensus on our “itinerary”, and so
we left things up to chance when we arrived in Dubai. At least we arrived at a
decent time, around noon local time, and not at 2am, which would unfortunately
be our arrival time in India in a few short days…
My cousin’s husband, S, picked us up from the airport, outfitted in a polo shirt and cargo shorts. It was December 28th, and lo and behold, it was at least 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside 🙄. This was cold weather for Dubai, meaning that I knew I would never be able to live here and be happy!
Tried to appreciate the blue, but all I could notice was the brown tinge on almost all of these buildings 😹
S helped us load our suitcases into his car, and gave us a little “tour” on our way to the flat. The shops were lined up similar to what I’ve seen in India, but the roads were more clean, quiet, and less crowded…at least during the day. Despite all this, everything seemed to have a “tinge of brown” surrounding it. I guess that’s something you can’t escape if the city you’ve built is literally atop a desert.
So far, I wasn’t impressed. I wasn’t convinced as to why Dubai has been considered THE vacation/party/travel destination of late. What was I NOT seeing?
We soon arrived at a complex of flats where my cousin’s family lived. It reminded me of what I would see in India, except less dusty (much to my surprise). We settled in pretty quickly, and honestly, it was hard to keep my eyes open because jet-lag was hitting me hard. Good thing we didn’t plan on doing the desert safari after all…
When my cousin M arrived, my sis and I lept up and gave her a hug to make up for 13 years of lost contact 🥰. We met her kids soon after that, and after freshening up, we thought it would help our body clocks to get some steps in around the city.
I will admit, the sunset views are top-notch!
Our stop was The Dubai Mall, where my cousin said we could see a fountain show as well as go to the top of the Burj Khalifa. The mall was large no doubt, but besides some unique shops I haven’t seen in the States (oh, and the Borders that seemed to be revived from the dead lol), I wasn’t blown away.
I thought this flying (or diving?) men art piece was pretty cool…
In fact, I was exhausted by the crowds and wishing I could rest my eyes and lie down on a soft pillow…my sister was also mentally and physically checked out. She was not having it with the overzealous tourists swarming everywhere…especially at the top of level of da Burj.
Burj Khalifa
We pretty much had our own reality checks once we got to the top: it would take a substantial load of (nonexistent) energy for us to enjoy ourselves enough to be Instagram-pic level happy 😆. As much as I wanted to take in the moment and appreciate the views, I also had to be mindful of my body. My sister was on the verge of tears because of the emotional exhaustion she was feeling, and I had to be empathetic.
As much as travel is thrilling and exciting, it is depleting and tiring. That’s the truth that most people tend to brush under the rug when they return from a long vacation and are asked about how their trip was.
But I like to keep it real, and to be honest, despite the lovely views of the city from above, I was feeling like c-r-a-p.
I can now look at this picture and at least appreciate and respect the work it took to build something like this, but when I was peering through the glass at 7pm Dubai time after 14 hours of economy-class plane travel? 🤢🤢🤢
Fortunately, our cousin was very understanding of our emotional situations and we drove back home after descending from the Burj. We picked up some food court Lebanese food and shared family-style. At least the night ended well 🤷.
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The next day, we contemplated if we would have enough time to check out Abu Dhabi. It would have been a little over an hour in the car, and my mind toyed with the idea of how cool it would have been to check off two cities in the UAE, but there were other people to consider in my travel company ( a dad who just woke up from his first night of normal sleep in days, and my sister who was just starting to recover from her sleep deprivation)…
We played it safe, and visited another attraction that just astounded me—Dubai Miracle Garden.
Don’t get me wrong. The displays were beautiful, artistic, and a feast for the eyes, but I just could not get over the fact that—
Hold up, we’re in the middle of a freaking desert. This ain’t natural!
Dubai Miracle Garden
Hence the name miracle garden, I get that, but how is this sustainable? It just seemed to be the opposite of eco-friendly to me, and I couldn’t shake off this thought as we continued throughout the park.
Emirates, always be pluggin’ 🤣
I also couldn’t shake off the stench of fertilizer (lol), but I was distracted enough at some points to admire some pretty displays:
A gorgeous umbrella display 💕
Gorgeous hues of flowers—really appreciated this for some reason. Maybe because it was a nice source of shade 😂
Eventually, the heat got to us and we moved on. I must have been pretty beat because after grabbing a scoop of Biscoff ice cream as we left the park, I fell into a sweet nap, along with the kids! #NoShame
It felt like a long drive to our next destination, but when I woke up we were in Al Seef, which I soon fell in love with because it had that desert charm I was expecting to see throughout Dubai…at least it was located in one place here!
Hello Al Seef 👋
At the end of the day, it was just another shopping and dining area, but I felt like once I was inside, it gave off the vibe of stepping into a world of an older time. Window-shopping was a pleasant experience…
Hi Dubai, you finally showin’ me your cute side?
My inner nerd loved this display at a perfume store 😀
Dinner was a casual affair: a stop at a sub-par Italian place that served up piadinas, and a place I wouldn’t recommend visiting—especially if your stay in Dubai was as short as ours.
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I do wish we spent another day or two, when our energy levels picked up, with my cousin and her family. Leaving for India at 9pm soon after our first full day in Dubai seemed like a hasty move, but the fact that we were even able to make room for Dubai was a remarkable feat for us 😂
Would I ever choose to live in Dubai? Nah.
Would I ever come back to vacation in Dubai? Most likely no, unless someone else paid for it!
But at the top of the Burj, my Dad shared his thoughts on how Dubai is probably the prime entertainment and recreation destination for many South Asians and Middle Easterners…probably the farthest one would venture “out west” in a lifetime!
So at least it’s there for someone—it’s just not my cup of tea 🤷
Have you ever visited Dubai? What was your experience like?
