Sorry, I accidentally cancelled your good visa!!!

Hello everybody. I am finally back in the US and cosily settled in cold, cold Troy that is slowly recovering from the effects of the scarily named Polar Vortex. Antarctica trip was awesome. No, that just doesn’t quite cut it; English needs a better word. It was truly amazing. So many stories, so many great moments, quite a few adventures, and not least, the people, I just do not know where to start. I have documented most of the trip and after I finish sifting through the 2000 or so photographs I’ll update the blog. Right now, however, is a story of my reentry in the United States of America.

On 28th December 2013 I landed in Newark airport at 7.22 p.m on flight number 1970 operated by Copa Airlines from Panama City. The point of origin of the travel was Buenos Aires, Argentina. After a short wait in the immigration line I was called towards the immigration officer. I do not remember the counter number, however.

I handed over my passport and I-20 to the officer. The officer spent a minute or so perusing my passport, sifting through the pages and inspecting quite a few of the visa and immigration stamps in my passport, in particular the Tanzanian visa from 3 years ago, the Argentinian visa and the stamp from Esperanza Base, Antarctica. He then took a pen and scribbled something on my passport.

He immediately looked up, as apologetically as possible after what looked like a tiring day, and said, “sorry, I accidentally cancelled your good visa!!!”. I wasn’t sure how to respond and before I could say anything he asked, “do you plan on traveling outside the country anytime in the next 6 months?”. The visa would have anyway expired in June 2014 and I wasn’t planning to travel but instead focus on graduating as soon as possible. When I replied in the negative, he said “good” and then proceeded to write below his “cancelled” note that it was done in error. He wrote the date as well. At that point I was too tired to think about it and since he was not denying me entry I let it go.  After the fingerprint scan and immigration stamp he apologized again and allowed me to leave.

Since I am on F1 visa and my I-20 graduation date is in May 2016 I can legally be in the United States. However, if I leave the country, upon return I’ll be denied entry unless I renew the visa. I hope to travel to Africa and India in August, and if so I’ll renew my visa at the Chennai Consulate. So as of now, fortunately, there is nothing to be concerned about, as confirmed by the International Students office at RPI.

There is one thing, though, that rankles me. Of all the pages the officer had to stamp he chose the one from Antarctica. That was a souvenir, an unexpected stamp that is quite rare. I was hoping to keep that page pristine, free of any other stamp. Oh, well!!!

A Troy Story

Contrary to my expectations during the last update I couldn’t drive down Clinton Road this Thanksgiving; but, I will do that sometime. However, with a Troy - Danbury - DC - Richmond - Jamestown - Yorktown - Danbury - Troy eventful four-day road trip spanning six states I could possibly call this story scouting trip a success. In time I’ll write about all that, but today this post is about a simple Civil War story dedicated to all the beautiful maidens of Troy

It is well said [NOT] that “you can take a trip out of Troy but you cannot take Troy out of a trip”. Eight hours down south in Richmond, Virginia I was reminded of Troy’s place in US history while at the Virginia Historical Society museum. My friends and I were perusing the American Civil War section when one of my friends chanced upon this story. In the context of the Civil War this is probably an inconsequential event. Yet, it is an interesting reminder of how everyone, even non-fighting women far removed from the battle fronts, contributed to the respective causes on either side intentionally or unintentionally. Here you go.

Lt. George H. Thomas, a Union general during the Civil War (1861-1865), is generally held in high esteem by historians for his successful record in the war. Lt. Thomas led the Union forces to a decisive victory over the Confederates at the Battle of Mill Springs. His defensive line that held off repeated attacks from a numerically superior opponent and the subsequent counterattacks that held the Confederate army at bay until nightfall during the Battle of Chickamagua earned him the title of the “Rock of Chickamagua”. He is a hero, no doubt. However, it is a shame that he has failed to achieve as much historical acclaim as some of his contemporaries, such as Ulysses S. Grant and William T. Sherman, due to a variety of reasons that included a disinterest in advancing his legacy by publishing memoirs and an uncomfortable relationship with Gen. Grant.

Now what has all this got to do with Troy? Nothing much; just that in the November of 1852 Lt. Thomas married Frances Kellogg of Troy, NY. Now, the good lieutenant was a Virginian and had a close personal relationship with Gen. Robert Lee, who was later the number one man in the Confederate army. Yet, as the Civil War broke out in 1861 he turned down an offer to serve in the Virginia state militia and reported back to active duty with the U.S. army. It is probably the influence of his Northern-born wife that led to his choice.

His siding with the Union instead of the South angered his family. They turned his portrait against the wall, destroyed his letters and refused to accept the money he sent in spite of the economic hardship in the South after the war. His sisters disowned him strongly believing that it was the influence of his Northern wife that contributed to his “desertion”.

In short, without the fair maiden from Troy, the Union forces may not have had such a reliable general to count on in some decisive battles. This is probably inconsequential since Lt. Thomas may have sided with the Union anyway because of his dislike of slavery. Yet, as the saying goes, there is always a woman behind a successful man and thus her role in the fight against slavery, which the Civil War eventually turned to, is worth repeated mentions.

Finally, sticking to the same theme that you cannot take Troy out of a trip here’s a question for my RPI readers. The picture below was taken outside a museum near  the archaeology dig of the original Jamestown settlement. Does the name ring a bell? It’s quite obvious but I’ll write about it in my next update, as well.

Kids Say The Darndest Things

A month back I was in Philly. It was a day trip to visit a friend and I did not have time to explore the city. There was not much point either since it was Columbus day and most museums were closed. Nevertheless, my friend decided to show me the Liberty Bell and a couple of other places in the short time we had.

Driving around the city, at some point the GPS lost its signal and my friend happened to comment, “I think I am lost”. Suddenly a sweet voice responded from the back of the car. It was her daughter strapped into her child restraint seat. “Mommy, you are not lost. I can still see you”.

Now, if that did not put a smile to your face you must have a heart of stone. Next week, I’ll write about the Philly trip in detail. Until then, cheers and have a blast. Wait, what's that I hear? You have more such stories? Do share it with us in the comments section.

Those pesky tourists!!!

Big city residents have always had a love-hate relationship with tourists, the affair skewed more towards the latter with the former being nothing more than a fleeting endearment. The sheer number of tourists adds to the popular appeal of the city and who doesn’t love it that their home is famous even in obscure parts of the world. Yet, with noisy tourists stopping and pulling their cameras out every step of the way disrupting the hectic life of the big city residents, it is no wonder that pesky tourists are a thorn in the sides of the denizens who call the city their home.

Here’s an Improv Everywhere prank that essentially taps into the resident-tourist relationship. “New york city resident? No. Please go in the tourist lane so you can click pictures, go slow, go to sleep, whatever tourists do”, says an agent. “As a New Yorker I appreciate this”, a passer-by responds.

All of us would have had some experience in this regard, either as the pesky tourist or as the heckled resident. Here’s one of mine.

Location: the Golden Gate bridge, west side lane. It was windy and cold. However, the view was so beautiful that we had decided to brave the windchill and walk across the bridge. Once at the middle we set our camps and were enjoying the sunset; a group of five. Oblivious to the lack of other tourists on the bridge we spent our time looking west, mostly in silence. I was engrossed with my Canon capturing the orange sky, experimenting with different exposures.

Someone shouted, “watch out!’. I took a step back just as a cyclist shot past through the same spot I was standing on a split second earlier. I looked up and left towards the cyclist only to catch him glaring at me. If looks could kill! He was kind enough to not say anything but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. ‘Damn you tourists. One day you’ll kill somebody.’

Apparently there were signs that said  ‘Cyclists: West-side. Pedestrians: East-side’. Confused tourists that we were we had missed these signs and strayed into the cyclist lane. Undoubtedly it is people like us that grant legitimacy to the Improv Everywhere prank. As Mayor Bloomberg commented at a press conference later, “When I saw it I said, ‘Oh! That’s a nice thing to do.’ I thought it was very cute.”

Now as I was saying, all of us might have some story or the other to share in this regard. The comments box is open. In the meantime, listening to Shpongle and working on my doctoral thesis, I’ll be waiting for your reply.

Cheers.

Top of the world, far from it; top of Maine, definitely so.

13th August 2011

4 a.m

We woke up early that day. In spite of the long, tiring drive the previous night, we didn’t have a choice in this matter. Climbing Mt. Katahdin and traversing Knife Edge was our only aim.

Katahdin is located in Baxter State Park and is the highest mountain in Maine. The most famous hike to the summit goes along Knife Edge, which traverses the ridge between Pamola Peak and Baxter Peak. The mountain has claimed 19 lives since 1963, mostly from exposure to bad weather and falls from the Knife Edge. For about 0.3 miles the trail is 3 feet wide, with a drop off on either side. Not surprising, the Knife Edge is closed during periods of high wind. [Courtesy Wiki]

Owing to the popularity, danger and availability of parking spots, the rangers place a restriction on the number of climbers, rather, the number of cars they let through to the trail head. There was one member in our group who had been here before and had to turn back because he was too late. This time neither he nor the others wanted to miss their chance. The drive was way too long to go back disappointed.

We were at the check post by 5 a.m. 11 of us, in 2 sedans and a minivan. There was already a long queue of cars ahead of us. The Roaring Brook trailhead had roughy 25 parking spots, most of which may have been reserved in advance. We were early, but were we early enough?

Retribution

Photo taken at Green Mountain, Vermont (KsK)

The fire of retribution burns within, each dying ember embellishing a ghost upon the floor.

The ghosts of the past haunt me more and keep the fire burning still.

Yet, lost in the fire I can’t be;

For, to those whose senses are not under control, there can be no self-perception.

Without self-perception peace is lost; and without peace, happiness too.

And thus, I must let it go, and not forget;

“In taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior.”

 - Courtesy Bacon, Poe and The Gita

The Terminal

It was a beautiful Sunday evening. I had made it. For a while, stuck in traffic, it almost seemed like I would miss the check-in. I had a presentation the next day; at the MRS Spring Meeting in San Francisco; and, I was rushing to catch the last flight of the day. But, the jam on Interstate 405 cleared just in time and now there I was, staring at the screen wondering what my next response should be.

The machine had tentatively allotted me an exit seat and had popped the question, “Would you like to confirm the seat?”. I have travelled on exit seats before. You get  extra legroom as a compensation for the rare possibility that you may have to assist the stewardess in case of an emergency landing. Considering that you have a greater chance to have a road mishap than one in the air, it’s a good deal, I would say.

However, on a whim I clicked the button that showed ‘No’. The machine took a while searching for other available seats and with each passing second a pang of regret grew inside me. After a few moments of deliberation the machine responded, “Owing to a high booking on this flight today, we regretfully inform you that you have been placed in the waiting list.”

I proceeded to Gate 54A. As per the schedule, there still was half an hour before the gate opened for boarding. I could still obtain a boarding pass provided there were a few cancellations. I found a seat near the gate and engrossed myself with the presentation, adding a few finishing touches. I couldn’t help taking frequent glances at the screen in front. My name appeared towards the end of the waiting list...

... Ten minutes till take-off. Most of the seats around are vacant. I look up at the screen. Many illustrious names are off the list but I am still on it. The queue of passengers waiting to board is short now. Soon, I shall know.

Fingers crossed, I dive back into my laptop. Thoughts of a missed presentation and an upset boss start swirling in my mind, when I hear a sweet voice. “Hello mum. I am boarding now. I just called to let you know I love you, in case I die.” What is she doing; scaring her mother like that? Maybe they are that close.

Wait a minute. Probably she knows something other passengers don’t. The trailer of Final Destination 5 flashes in my mind as I think, “Bloody hell! I’ll catch the first flight tomorrow morning.” In times like these you never know.