I've had symptoms of dehydration for the past two weeks: daily headaches, muscular pain and overall weakness. I'm eating well and drinking water until I'm about to burst, still, I am trapped in an 80 year-old woman's body. Meanwhile, I am visiting slum areas and meeting amazing children, doing office work and writing journal entries. I wasn't going to bore you with these "behind the scenes" details. Let me continue. I've tried hard to find the time to continuously upload journal entries that 1) reflect what I am experiencing and 2) upload frequently enough to cover everything that I am experiencing. Problem is, planning has no place in India.
On good days, the Internet connection has been slow. But it has been working. Even though I've always reached the office extra early in the mornings to publish my journal entries before I start doing work for the organization (the guest house doesn't have Internet connection) with the text already prepared and the pictures selected on the evening before, the accompanying pictures take a monsoon season to upload - that once I've actually managed to publish a journal entry I feel I deserve a round of applauds. I wasn't going to share these work flow details with you either.
I had my last few pieces of writing to publish, to wrap things up before I leave India on Sunday. Of course, Internet went down. I've waited (patiently) for a few days. In fact, yesterday I couldn't get out of bed (body ache). This morning I came to work and found out that there was a connection on one floor (only) and I could work from there. I still didn't have Internet connection and one of the computer managers stopped by to have a look. A few mouse clicks later, my firm's security systems had done its job: my laptop was securely locked. The "denied access" sign blinked in the rhythm of the growing number of computer managers that entered and eventually filled the tightly packed office room. This is the moment in which I had my emotional breakdown.
After weeks of uninterrupted diplomacy, never ending patience and a bottomless sense of understanding for endless encounters with bizarre circumstances, tears of frustration, despair and complete exhaustion escaped my eyes. I no longer have access to any of my company documents, to work email (I had just found out from my boss that I am going to the firm's global training event held at Euro Disney outside of Paris and I need to stay in touch with the organizers), or to any of the edited documents I've worked on for the last few weeks. So... I give up. This paints the picture of my month in India: everything is out of my control.
How is a control freak supposed to happily adjust to that without an emotional breakdown? True, I could have released the control conscious Western business woman side of me in the privacy of my hotel room - but then again, isn't India all about closeness and togetherness and shared privacy? I am now writing from a borrowed computer and my fingers are tapping against a keyboard dirty enough to challenge any antibacterial gel. I will publish the remaining pieces of reflections as soon as my laptop has received treatment from my company's technology support in Stockholm. By then, my eyes will be dry.
On good days, the Internet connection has been slow. But it has been working. Even though I've always reached the office extra early in the mornings to publish my journal entries before I start doing work for the organization (the guest house doesn't have Internet connection) with the text already prepared and the pictures selected on the evening before, the accompanying pictures take a monsoon season to upload - that once I've actually managed to publish a journal entry I feel I deserve a round of applauds. I wasn't going to share these work flow details with you either.
I had my last few pieces of writing to publish, to wrap things up before I leave India on Sunday. Of course, Internet went down. I've waited (patiently) for a few days. In fact, yesterday I couldn't get out of bed (body ache). This morning I came to work and found out that there was a connection on one floor (only) and I could work from there. I still didn't have Internet connection and one of the computer managers stopped by to have a look. A few mouse clicks later, my firm's security systems had done its job: my laptop was securely locked. The "denied access" sign blinked in the rhythm of the growing number of computer managers that entered and eventually filled the tightly packed office room. This is the moment in which I had my emotional breakdown.
After weeks of uninterrupted diplomacy, never ending patience and a bottomless sense of understanding for endless encounters with bizarre circumstances, tears of frustration, despair and complete exhaustion escaped my eyes. I no longer have access to any of my company documents, to work email (I had just found out from my boss that I am going to the firm's global training event held at Euro Disney outside of Paris and I need to stay in touch with the organizers), or to any of the edited documents I've worked on for the last few weeks. So... I give up. This paints the picture of my month in India: everything is out of my control.
How is a control freak supposed to happily adjust to that without an emotional breakdown? True, I could have released the control conscious Western business woman side of me in the privacy of my hotel room - but then again, isn't India all about closeness and togetherness and shared privacy? I am now writing from a borrowed computer and my fingers are tapping against a keyboard dirty enough to challenge any antibacterial gel. I will publish the remaining pieces of reflections as soon as my laptop has received treatment from my company's technology support in Stockholm. By then, my eyes will be dry.
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You are one tough cookie!
ReplyDelete*****KRAM*****
Yes, how do you lose yourself in a place without actually losing yourself?
ReplyDelete-R