Happy Currency in London

Currently I am sitting in the London Lounge at Heathrow airport waiting for a connecting flight to Toronto. My journey home is half way completed and so far very average and uneventful. No screaming children, no lost passports and no delayed flights. Now the reason I felt compelled to blog right now is, well one, I’m bored and need to kill 5 hours but more importantly I am stuck by how the smallest things make life just that little bit better. For me, today, sitting in this airport, it’s individually wrapped packages of cheese. Edam, Gouda, Cheddar… Oh my god they are so delicious. I know that sounds crazy but finding real, fresh and tasty cheese in Mumbai is not always an easy thing to do and certainly not cheap. My girls are feeling the love too filling up on fresh ham with crackers and hot chocolate. They are giddy with excitement with every bite.

However as I am savouring every orgasmic morsel, I happened to glance at the tv across the way. CNN is on the screen and they are showing graphic footage from the fighting in Syria. And it made me start thinking about what do people really need to be happy. In the Middle East and many parts of the world it’s as simple as peace, safety and a place to call home. Actually let me rephrase- it’s not very simple in fact, it’s almost impossible as country after country fight to find their way towards a better future.  Again as I am writing this I accidentally eaves drop on a conversation behind me. An older woman is talking about flying home and seeing her daughter who she hasn’t seen in 5 years. This is her happiness- time with family. On the other side of me is a baby who is just being pacified with a warm bottle. A warm meal;her happy currency. And as usual, in my abstract way, I started thinking about the idea of happy currency. If like other currencies, they can be traded, valued and devalued, stolen and recovered what would this mean for happiness? Is it worth investing in a highrisk investment of happiness knowing that the consequence might mean losing it all? Or is it smarter to stay safe and invest your happy currency in a low risk steady growth savings bond? And if you lose it all in one bet, can you recoup your losses?

One small piece of cheese is making me incredibly happy right now in this one moment so what does that say about me. Does it mean I selfishly, only focus on spending my currency as soon as I get it without investing in the future? Or does it mean I am one of the many who have no idea what to do with their wealth? I don’t think so. I think I am a savvy investor who has placed a huge chunk of my currency in long term safe investments like my family, friends and health so that I can spend a little freely on the smaller things in life to make it just a little bit easier. With that said, it also means that when I am feeling broke in the happy bank, I need to realize that I already have a lot more happiness than many and that if for some reason I don’t have some of my smaller comforts then perhaps I don’t need them so much after all. 

Yogi Bare and Grin It

See, I have just figured out why everyone does yoga in India. I know it’s only taken me 2 years but I will attribute that to old age. Today I found myself on the brink of such all encompassing debilitating frustration that I actually found myself praying for a means of stress release beyond the massage of a good Cabernet Sauvignon. I know, I know, very hard to believe but I was at my wits end plus it was only 10 in the morning. 

This morning I went down to the gym to workout as usual. I have a routine which I follow fairly religiously and today was no exception. I went downstairs in my apartment to the gym to find it locked which is not a strange thing as it’s happened before. Normally I can ask the guard for the key and they open the gym and all is well. Well not today #!$#?#

I asked the guard for the key and he apparently went to get another man to talk to me. This man, who introduced himself as part of the society, told me that the gym was closed on Mondays and I couldn’t go in. I very kindly told him that I had come down on Mondays before and they opened the gym and all was well. This guy just pointed to the sign that said the gym was closed and repeated what he said. I asked him why, of course, and he responded that the instructor had a day off on Monday so nobody could go in. So I was starting to get a little irritated, ok maybe a lot irritated because this ‘instructor’ is a chunky Indian guy with a gut who sits behind a desk and knows nothing about training with weights or good nutrition, obviously. So I told as much to this guy and said I was fine in the gym on my own. So I continued to explain that many people work out on Mondays because it follows a weekend of indulgence and that some people, amazingly like working out everyday of the week. So this guy replies that I need to write a letter to the society to which I replied, “ Well aren’t you the society?” to which he said yes and walked away.

See the way it works here in India is that every apartment has these societies who decide on the rules of the building indiscriminately and then ask for more fees. There is no rhyme or reason, logic or purpose. It’s all random. Now I can take abstract, wild, freewheelin’ even lackadaisical, but I hate random especially when it interferes with my workout routine.

Now as I mentioned in a previous post I am not the type of person who has come to India, only to find myself on a spiritually journey of self discovery and acceptance as many have. This journey often starts in a yoga class and leads to a life time of peace and happiness. Not for me. Lifting weights and getting on an elliptical gives me a sense of tranquility that allows to me to see the beauty of India. Unfortunately, however, I can only be peaceful from Tuesday to Sunday and on Mondays I’ll need to find my own personal Yogi.

Grumpy Old Bitch in Bombay

Last night I had dinner at Peshawari restaurant with friends who were leaving that night to move back to Norway. Over some Kingfisher draft we discussed their move and the sadness that comes along with it. My friend had said she had been depressed and crying off and on for the past week  as had her children  especially her eldest teenage daughter. These conversations are common among expats who regularly move from one country to the next and just as quickly make and leave friends. This often leaves me to reflect not only on my own moves and friendships but also on the long term effects of that kind of lifestyle.

On Friday when I picked up my children on the last day of school they too were crying. I immediately asked them what had happened or were they hurt when they replied, “Our friends are leaving!” Now in hindsight I guess I should have prepared for this however up until this point they barely batted an eye when leaving a country. When we left Canada for China they were too young to realize what was happening, and when we left China they were leaving their friends and not the other way around. Now that they are old enough to have really strong relationships they can fully comprehend and feel the loss.

Ironically, I find myself in the opposite situation. When I first left Canada I was very upset. The night before we flew out from Calgary, we had dinner at good friends and when we had to leave I was balling my eyes out. Not a pretty sight (picture running mascara) and totally out of character but nonetheless. When leaving China, I definitely left some very good friends and there were a few tears but not nearly as traumatizing as the first move.  This year I have been to many leaving events and said goodbye to many friends but I am not feeling the same loss or sadness. This, of course, has made me think hard about the why, as I am sure you can imagine.

I was having this discussion with a friend of mine over coffee who was feeling the same way.  We discussed why we thought we did not feel so much sadness and we came up with 2 answers. The first and probably the easiest explanation is that we are just grumpy old bitches who don’t care. This explanation requires little reflection or soul searching-much easier. The second, however, is probably more realistic. The feeling of loss is not as strong because the connection with friends is not as strong-on purpose. I think naturally, and I know this is very true for me, in attempts to protect yourself from the pain of leaving friends and family, you just don’t get too close to anyone. Almost all of my friends stay very near the surface so when they are torn away, they don’t rip off too much skin. The scars are minimal and recovery is quick. It sounds very sensible indeed but it makes me worry about the long term. Will I become this unfeeling robot, with no real friends and a few extra names on my Facebook? Or will I fight against nature and focus on building tighter relationships or better yet… do I just write about my experiences and build a better relationship with my laptop? Hmmm….