Memories of San Diego

So I made it to my first ever international conference to present my first ever conference paper. It was kind of a big deal at the time and I didn’t know what to expect at a conference. The biggest hurdle was overcoming nervousness before delivering my talk. The only thing that alleviated my nervousness was contemplating the situation in comparison to jumping off the sky tower (which I did last September). That put things in perspective. I also discovered that I was more willing to jump off a great height for fun (with a harness of course) than appear un-intelligent in front of a mass audience of experts. Then I quickly went on to tell myself that what other people think really does not matter. It was a very interesting dialogue I had with myself on that fateful Tuesday at 3.25pm. Soon after getting on to that podium, 2 minutes or so into the talk, all traces of nervousness disappeared. I think it kind of helped that I was standing on a raised platform looking down on people who were seated. I also realised that ‘fear’ is just a mind made thing and that people are all generally nice and don’t bite. They are there to listen and gather information and not to judge and condemn. Afterward, my theory of people being generally nice was proven correct and I was happy. The following few days felt to me like a weird sort of holiday in which I had to attend lectures and talk to people.

 I was so glad for the presence of my dear colleague-slash-friend, SB who was my lovely companion through that week. The two of us traversed the manicured paths of the San Diego city and shared a lot during that one week.  We found an amazing and beautiful village by the sea called ‘sea port village’. It was a sort of place that I always would love to have access to and it was a place filled with sunshine, brightly coloured shops with various curiosities, kites, Ben and Jerry’s ice creams and lots of Mexican food. There was even an open outdoor food court in the midst of trees and sheltered benches that we had ‘our’ spot closer to where the music played.  So we ate and talked, connected and bonded (as women usually do), while the sea breeze played with our hair and the sun light warmed our faces. In that place, I was happiest.

It was in the city that we found ourselves captured by the shopping malls with inevitably thousand times more variety of things to buy than back home. It was in ‘Nordstrom’ that I discovered what a fascinating thing ‘an eye brow highlighter’ was and how tempting all that variety of cosmetic brands with reasonable prices were. It didn’t help that I had a list of shopping to do for a friend back home, which forced me to sort through various makeup brands. The way we were attracted like two magnets to those stores, I started fearing for my credit card and resolved to be not swayed by the allure of such a product range. Mind you, I am a very conservative person and generally buy only what I need and hardly ever resort to impulse buying. But America managed to seduce me and I spent one whole night thinking about a ‘blusher’ which I tried to convince myself that I did not need. But morning came and I was still talking about ‘the blusher’ after which, SB kindly dragged me back to the store and made me buy it. Such were the good time we had in San Diego.

Another highlight was the scores of amazing people we met and talked with. Generally, everyone we met was friendly and interesting. This included the yellow cab drivers who regularly drove us to the house we rented on State Street. I was amazed by the colourful personalities that we came to cross paths with from various backgrounds. One cab driver was memorably funny. When one night, PL, SB and I got into a cab and asked to be driven to our address, the skinny African looking cab driver agreed and started with some small talk. It went on along the lines of:

Cab driver: Where are you guys from?

SB: We are originally from Germany, Sri Lanka and Canada but we live in New Zealand (this was our standard long answer, the short answer was that we were from New Zealand).

SB: So where are you from?

Cab driver: I’m different, I’m from my mother.

We all broke into laughter at his completely unexpected answer. Then he invited us to guess where he was from, and PL suggested that he was from Africa. Then he prompted further saying that he was from east Africa. Then PL guessed that he might be from Somalia. To that he answered with a serious face: 

“Yes, I’m from Somalia and I’m a pirate!”

At that moment, I decided that this was the funniest cab driver I had ever met.

My first impression of America (I mean Sandiego, but you know) was of awe and distant wonder looking at its beauty with the eyes of a Stanger who did not belong. One of the first things I had written down in my little red book that I carry around was:

“America feels different. It looks like a land of luxury and a lot of man-made beauty. It looks tempting and I wonder if I could ever belong here.”

Leaving that place, I must say I felt somewhat different. I suppose I could live there, except everything is so big and it is easy to get lost in that ‘largeness’ and there is far too much temptation and consumerism that I don’t quite see myself being able to belong. But certainly, it is a lovely city with plenty of Sun, Sea and a whole lot more. And I already know that given the chance, I would once again visit that village by the sea.