Living in and exploring UK on a shoe string budget is an experience. You alternate between tremendous excitement and blind panic twice before your morning cup of depressingly instant coffee, and go thro the cycle twice more when you step out into the delicious cold. yes, i said delicious. there's something about the biting cold that makes you feel fresh as if youve slept ten hours, when in fact you've slept, well, not at all.
Take for example this afternoon. I'm coming back from Wales, where i spent christmas with my old-enough-to-be-my-uncle cousin, orchestrated by his-daughter-my-niece Thumri (with whom i had many an escapade back in chennai.... ah, chennai). I stopover in Birmingham, visit the city centre, and miss my bus back.
to do this on boxing day is kind of stupid. there are no local buses running, there are no trains running country-wide, and the national buses are booked to the point of bursting. so there i was in birmingham without a ticket, and i don't know a damn person in the city. and there are no tickets out.
i have about 500 quid in my bank account which may last me one and a half months if i'm really careful - i have eight months to go in my course - and because of one damn fool mistake, i could end up spending 100 of that in one day. cos tickets cost 40 quid in the festive period, a hotel room about the same. and there's food.
and the worst part is there is noone to call. whom do you call in a different country?
im actually quite proud of how i dealt with the situation.
i grovelled.
i never thought i would, but i turned on the waterworks (well, i didnt exactly shed any tears, but the story i pitched the lady at the ticket counter would have rend any human's heart). except that in Britain, the person behind the counter is not human. its a job requirement that you are an automaton and are capable of making appropriate beeping sounds, if you are to work behind any counter.
so i get turfed out, and then i go and beg the driver of the next available coach. this chappie is an unsmiling sardar, and if you thought maybe i could play the india card, well, he did not seem interested.
but he eventually caved when i chalked out my Plan B - to starve in one of Birmingham's choisest gutters (do they even have gutters here? im sure i havent noticed, but its a satisfying cliche)
anyways, i came close to wrapping my arms around and smooching him when he gave me a seat. now i could get back to sheffield, and whats more, i could get back in time to go to work!
oh thats right, i have to work today.
so i reach sheffield at 5, having spent eight hours on a bus, rush home to change into my blazer and tie, and set off for work, and spend til 10 in the night smiling and welcoming people into the restaurant, hanging up their coats etc. at least the job isn't a demanding one.
But don't get me wrong - i'm not suing for sympathy here. In fact, i feel sorry for anyone who isn't going through it. It's the best.
I mean, it wasn't fun when i realised i was stuck in Birmingham, but if I HADN't made the mistake, i wouldnt have spent any time in the city at all. I wouldn't have seen its city centre, which is really beautiful, cos it has the most gorgeous cathedral flanked on either side by massive shopping complexes, which beckon invitingly in their opulent splendour. its a glorious contradiction, a fine photo op which i was quick to take advantage of.
And I admit it wasn't fun going to work as soon as I got back from Wales, but I was laughing all the way there. I mean, though my legs started to buckle as the night wore on, there was a silver lining.
It wasn't the previous workplace.
My first part time job in Sheffield had involved going to work at 11 every wednesday and saturday night, working til 7 in the morning cleaning the bar/toilet/kitchen of a hotel. And on the wednesday i would have to go to class straight without any sleep, a hurriedly grabbed breakfast on the way.
I had my moment of epiphany when I was in Wales.
Karthik - my cousin - had set up the best Christmas for me ever, cooking rasam and sambar and idli and currie, while his wife Kim had set up the best christmas dinner ever for their family, which I cheerfully intruded into...
They have a lovely house, the back garden leads into the hills, you can see the cows and the sheep across the meadow, and a little stream runs through the garden. it's ridiculous how stunning it is.
A stark contrast to my miserable little attic room, which leads onto a pile of crap where all the neighbours dump their stuff.
But the thing is - the epiphany - I've never felt more comfortable with who I am - a penniless student. Cos in uni, noone gives a shit. one or two of my classmates (Duncan, the Apu-impersonating chappie for example) are in a similar situation. Others are better off, but the thing is, they still don't give a shit. If you don't go out for a beer cos you can't afford it, fair enough. And noone gives you sympathy either. Everyone's been through it.
Well I did get a bit of sympathy from the girls about the 11 - 7 workshift and coming to class with no sleep thing, but that was just lovely. (thanks Jess, Louise, you have NO idea how much that helped me cope).
Over at Karthik's, it didn't matter that I hadn't brought any presents, they gave me stuff anyway, and made me feel really comfortable about it. And if i started my stuttering apologies, the kids Nathan and Krishnan (11 and 7 years old respectively, and the new loves of my life) would start screaming and pumelling me.
I think you also learn to accept kindess you were too proud to accept back home. For example, I shopped all afternoon on the gift card Kim got me for xmas, buying books I could not afford otherwise, and stocking up on stationary which I actually really need, but was too reluctant to spend on.
And i'm still having coffee on the Starbucks card Gayatri got me when i was in London. It feels so bloody good to say espresso-machiatto-with-double-shot-of-steamed-milk without having to look at the fucking price column.
I guess I'll get my turn to help someone out like that one day, when I'm earning.
So that's Uni life - the first three months have sped past like nothing ever would, but it also feels like an eternity. In the sense that life in India - back when you had a salary, and didnt think twice about food - seems surreal and distant.
Don't be jealous, now.
