alice's peephole

  3 months into an unexpectedly long stay at home, but now I am a few weeks away from having to go back to “real life” (and therefore thoroughly pressuring myself to write a summarizing blogpost about it). All of my previous “visits to home” have been 3-4 weeks of whirlwind madness, trying to cram in maximum quality time, favourite meals and relaxation into the holiday. The time available of course was limited by the yearlong leave I saved to be home with family and childhood friends. I’d land and run immediately to friends’ weddings, and usually get sick soon after. Whether from exhaustion or weather change, I never quite knew why – but it would knock me off my feet for a few days. I would console myself that atleast I was sick at home, and let myself be pampered. Not having to lift a finger while under a fever, with hot soup and fruit bowls being brought to you does soften the blow of a flu. I would bounce back after a week, and rush around meeting friends, family, shopping, eati...

  Fark. No other word has quite the capacity to capture the trauma that this year has been. Almost everyone, all across the globe has struggled with varying degree. The faint glimmer of hope in humanity is that Trumpturd has been voted out and vaccines are on the way. Even after being vaccinated, how long will it take for the trauma of this pandemic to recede? Listening to stories of people losing jobs, being stuck away from their lives for months on end or starving makes me wonder if our ways of living will ever be the same again. The events of this year are definitely forcing me to re-examine my life choices. What I always took for granted – being able to fly home within a few days should the need arise, was and in many cases remains indefinitely suspended. Should that call come, the one that is every expat’s worst fear, we take false comfort in the fact that travel is reasonably affordable and simple. We promise ourselves every year to do better, call more often and to visit...