The Fourth Shuttle

When I was in high school I played for the U19 football team. Every Tuesday we had to do fitness training. We had to do five 35 second sprints with 35 seconds of rest in between each run. They were called “shuttles”. It was widely acknowledged that the penultimate or fourth run was always the most difficult. The first two were easy, the third meant that you were more than half way there and the final one, well that was the final one. It was the fourth shuttle that was just hard because you were tired and it had no particular significance. My second Sunday here in Bangalore is like that fourth shuttle. Monday and Tuesday will whizz by because they represent the final shuttle, and I am sure that come Wednesday night I will never have been so happy as to have travelled 24 hours! But today, it is a bit difficult.

On the other hand yesterday delivered a real high point of my trip. My new Indian colleagues became aware of me being here this weekend and they have then proceeded to arrange different things for me to make sure I wasn’t by myself. I have been astounded by their generosity. One of my colleagues took me to his native town about an hour away from Bangalore. He invited me to his home and he took me around the town. It was a wonderful experience – I felt as if I had been lucky enough to see the real India. The town had 1.5 million inhabitants but I can guarantee you I was the only white person there....at one point I was encircled by 30-40 Indian children of varying ages who wanted to touch me, to ask me my name and to ask “where was my native country”. The other thing that struck me, apart from the monkeys eating rubbish, was that despite all the differences, that people are essentially the same the world over. My friend showed me where his elderly father lived, explained that his sister had moved back in with her father to help him in his old age, and showed me where other members of his family lived – all within walking distance of his father’s house. The close proximity of family members reminded me not only of my own situation in Biarritz, but also of towns such as Newcastle and Ashington where families often live within very small distances of each other.

Today has been a bit difficult up until now – for example the high point was discovering that a type of shower fitting that I had always admired back in Europe, and which happens to be installed here in my hotel room (although I have only just realised today, 2 weeks after arriving), is highly impractical.....That said I am expecting things to pick up – 3 of my other colleagues are coming to pick me up later on so I’m looking forward to that. I might also treat myself at the end of the day by packing my suitcase – now if that isn’t a sign that I’m ready to come home I don’t know what is!