8 Years and 42.7K Tweets Later

As I sat on my bed, sipping coffee and scrolling on my phone for news from the 2019 Billboard Music Awards this morning; a curious landmark update dropped into my timeline. It was 8 years, the tweet told me, since I joined Twitter.

twitter-hearts-and-stars.0.0In early 2010 my childhood friend @rnvj encouraged me to join the platform ‘Facebook is where you meet people you went to school with. Twitter is where you meet people you wished you went to school with,’ he told me. So I got online, set up an account and tiptoed around the edges of conversations, unsure if I should join in. I gave the app three months tops, but I stayed much longer until 2011 when I finally found my groove.

In 2011, discovering you could connect with people you didn’t know through an app on your phone was genuinely life changing. For me, then discovering that you could meet them in real life ‘tweetups’ was even more amazing and I feel sad that the number of ‘tweetups’ I have attended over the years has diminished. How incredible it was that once a month you could meet with people that you had been interacting with online. Twitter was a place big enough to have a critical mass of people who cared about the place where they lived, the affairs of countries and celebrities with equal passion, and who wanted to see where this new technology would take us all together and as well as individuals.

I watched it all play out in my timeline, and it captures my attention till this day.

Seeing the real connections that I have made over twitter, started online and nurtured in real life at times, or even continuing on over 140 characters, reminds me why I love the platform so much. I have too many contacts, both professional and personal, people I legitimately care about and whose opinions matter to me, who live all over the world, with whom my primary interaction is/was through Twitter – these are people I never would have met without the network. It is still where a place where I can learn a lot about a lot. So while there are those who lament social media for it’s tendency to make us disconnect with one another, I look to hashtags and handles to show the power that social media, like Twitter, has to legitimately and authentically connect people. I can’t even talk about this without coming off sounding like a cliché, but for those of us who have experienced that, it is real and it is powerful. The last eight years has also cast the positive side of social media with the negative. Not everyone I’ve met online has been a beautiful person. But that is life.

So, thank you, if you’ve connected with me online or in real life. Your 140 characters, ideas and opinions make life interesting and rich. But if you’re reading this and we are still strangers, lets change that – follow me @sydneydxb and we’ll take it from there.

After eight years online, I believe twitter is a way of life – one that is well worth investing time in. So get a good healthy feed of what’s going on in the world and with the people you find interesting and soon you’ll find that it will become the first thing you check each morning.

 

 

 

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This Day, That Year

Early this morning Facebook reminded me that at this time in 2011 I was on my way to Malaysia. I was almost instantly transported back to eight years ago and to what made that trip so special. It was not a typical vacation or holiday and in fact it was the first time I spent a sizeable amount of time exploring a foreign city, with no set plans or itinerary. It was a transformational experience, to say the least and reflecting on that trip got me thinking about the power of travel and how it can positively impact the way we think, act and feel.

Everything about that trip to Malaysia felt larger than life. The smells, the sounds, the street level chaos… my senses were kicked into overdrive the moment I stepped out of the airport and into the street. Remember, this was back in 2011, a time before Google Maps, smartphones and travel apps. Information was not as readily available as it is today and it was simple moments like eating spicy noodles and drinking cold Tiger beer with a group of European travelers that left the biggest impression on me.

Now, the philosophical world traveler in me 😊 feels the need to describe these moments as rich cultural experiences, but, truth be told, back then, I was only interested in getting pictures for Facebook and the cultural education was a convenient bonus.

My trip to Malaysia wasn’t always easy, but the most rewarding things in life rarely are. I had a bout of food poisoning, lost my spending money and missed a bus to Penang. It taught me that travel really is about the travel.

It wasn’t the perfect white sandy beaches that left the strongest impression on me. It was navigating the confusing bus terminal and finding the right bus ticket. It was that anxious moment of trying to find a something to eat, in the middle of nowhere. It was connecting with other travelers faced with the same dilemma and finding a solution, together.

Looking back, it was that experience in Malaysia that laid the foundation for future trips and I will always cherish the memories and experiences I had.

Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen ~ Benjamin Disraeli

11 going on 12

As I touched down in Dubai last week, a familiar feeling came over me, a feeling I’ve had many times upon returning to the UAE after a trip abroad. It’s a feeling of coming home, a feeling of pride at what my adopted country has achieved in such a short span of time.

The beginning of last year marked a minor milestone in my life: I’ve been living in the UAE for over a decade now. It’s been eleven years since I moved here; to a country that quickly became my second home.

Having spent my entire adult life in the UAE, I can say that on one hand, it feels like eleven years has passed by in the blink of an eye; I can distinctly remember wandering the streets of Dubai and Sharjah with nervous excitement and uncertainty at what lay ahead for me, but it also somehow feels as though I’ve been here much longer, like my life has been rooted here somehow, for years.

I owe so much to this country and to the people I have met here. At the risk of sounding clichéd, I feel like the UAE has changed me for the better: it has inspired me and re-energized me, and it’s helped me to uncover aspects of my personality that had long been buried by fear and self-doubt.

When I arrived in 2008, the Burj Khalifa was still a construction site that we looked at in awe and wonder from the campus of my school in the Safa area, Metro stations were sprouting in various locations giving Dubai a distinctly futuristic look and tenor and the only way to get to Sharjah on a Thursday evening was to brave three hours of traffic on the roads. Well, maybe not everything has changed.

In 2019, the UAE feels like a vibrant new destination that still retains its culture and heritage. This new avatar of the desert reimagined, provides a perfect metaphor for my life too. Change is constant, in cities, in countries and in individuals too. Evolution is inevitable and the UAE has certainly laid the foundation for evolution in all aspects; exponential technologies, architecture, sustainability, innovative practices (to name a few), placing the country in an enviable position on the world stage. One cannot expect to stay successful by working the same way. Life is about progress and keeping up with the rest of the world.

Like Columbus, Ibn Battuta or Marco Polo, I believe each of us came to this planet hardwired to explore, to push ourselves to our personal limits, to grow and to evolve – to discover new parts of ourselves and experience the world in ways we could not imagine before.

Over the years I have sat in cafes around the UAE, watching people go by, marveling at the infrastructure and ever-evolving skylines. I have learned so much about life, this country and myself by simply sitting behind my cappuccino and watching the UAE transform. In many ways, these structural changes also reflect a changed reality: here is a country incredibly proud of its rich history but choosing to be defined less by the past and more by its promising future. From sandy stretches and dunes to a Middle Eastern Shang-ri-la, the UAE has undergone such a transformation and I cannot help but marvel at how much I have changed along with it.

The sky really is the limit here in the UAE, for the country as well as for the people who call it home.

Your scars have stories worth sharing -Dhiman

Just last month I learnt that April 24th, is ‘Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day’. The genocide is probably Armenia’s heaviest scar, one that too many people don’t see or acknowledge. Struggling with the past is not unique to Armenia but more than a century later, the pain still surfaces and permeates every aspect of life in the country.

I can recall entering the Genocide Museum with its haunting music playing in the distance, like ghosts calling after their loved ones left behind. On my left a wall stretched on for half a kilometer towards the memorial. Etched in the stone are the names of cities lost in the genocide. Itʼs strangely unsettling seeing it carved into that wall. Still wet from the rain.

Untouched by the rain though, is the fire burning in the middle of the memorial: the everlasting flame. It burns in memory of all the people that died and for everyone else who shares their loss. I’ve never been superstitious, but this place felt ominous. As if the people killed still remained in that circle, waiting for justice or simply to be acknowledged.

From what my new Armenian friends have taught me, I understand that Genocide Day is not a celebration – it’s a somber occasion. The atrocities are still a divisive, sometimes heated issue. I knew very little about the history before I arrived in Armenia, but I had no idea about the political controversy that still surrounds it. So that’s not really what I want to focus on in this post. I don’t have anything to contribute to the topic – I haven’t done any in-depth research; I only know what I learned in Yerevan.

To the best of my memory, I never learned about the Armenian Genocide in school or heard much about it through the media. When it comes to history, there are plenty of things we don’t know. So what I can offer is only a reflection as an outsider – and why I think all tourists visiting the country should take the time to learn about the tragic events of its past. History will repeat itself if there is no recognition and contrition for crimes committed. A change in human behavior only comes when the behavior is recognized as wrong. Too many conflicts or instances of violence across the globe seem organized around one or more dimension of human difference, ethnic, religious, racial, gender, sexual orientation, and more. There is an endless stream of new stories of violence, conflict – even as recently as last weekend, in Sri Lanka.

More than a hundred years on, the impact of the Armenian genocide reverberates loud and is echoed by the other atrocities that dot our social media feed daily. New Zealand, Syria, Sri Lanka, India, Too often despair stands in the way of action and knowledge leads to a sense of hopelessness. We cannot bring back to life the dead of the past or those who have been victims of political mass murder throughout the ages, but, through courage as well as knowledge, we can act to bring about a world free from the scourge of hatred. In committing ourselves in the everyday things to creating a world of peace, freedom, and mutual respect, we honor the memory of those who have fallen victim to the ultimate crimes.

Scars are sign of hurt but they are also indications of slow healing.

“Spira, Spera” (Breathe, Hope) Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

We walked upto and past the beautiful Notre Dame a couple of times before we finally decided to beat the lines to get inside the cathedral.

Our plan worked perfectly, except as we found out when we got to the front of the line, we were in the line to climb up to the top of Notre Dame, and not the one, to go inside. But, we had waited too long, and dammit, we were going to see Notre Dame, even if was from the top. I am not a very fit person, but with a steady slow step even I managed it, and I am so glad I did. After a dizzying number of stairs, we were greeted by a spectacular view of Paris and got to hang out with some of the coolest gargoyles. Certainly one of my favorite memories of Paris from that trip. The inside of the cathedral was breathtaking – a symbol for peace and acceptance beyond religion or spirituality.

There are so few things today that hold the world together. Monuments and Cathedrals are living works of art and stand as mute witnesses to the worst and the very best in us, in humanity. Seeing Notre Dame fall tonight is a terrifying reminder that nothing, no matter how strong or beautiful, lasts forever.

As I type this, the French authorities have just released a statement saying that the the fire at Notre Dame cannot be contained and the cathedral will burn on, till it burns out. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to experience the grandeur of Notre Dame in person but I am saddened as we watch history, art and beauty go up in flames tonight.

Today is a reminder to not wait to travel the world. If you can, get out there; meet people, experience other cultures, reflect on history and the beautiful parts of our shared humanity before it is too late.

“Great edifices, like great mountains, are the work of the ages” ~ Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of 🇫🇷 #NotreDame

The People We Meet

Driving through Tsaghkadzor was an unforgettable experience.

We are in a white Honda Civic, driving through a snow covered stretch of what seems to be no man’s land. Daylight has dawned and the signs of devastations that followed the end of the soviet era are scattered all over the place. I stare out of the window, beyond brown rooftops, at a white wilderness. Mt. Ararat looms over the horizon – the only sign of our location – we are traveling somewhere along the Turkish border.

Amidst the rhythmic tremble of the Honda, is the clicking noises from my phone’s camera. The subject it would like to capture is the natural beauty that runs through the Turkish-Armenian frontier but instead, the photos reveal hazy silhouettes of giant Oaks and Pines; reminding me that the real is always best remembered in my mind’s eye.

Autumn and winter are colliding during my trip to Armenia. New Cherry blossoms are budding in the capital city Yerevan; while the mountains still look like a winter wonderland. Suddenly, the car jerks to a halt and I am stirred from my morning reverie. We have reached our destination – the beautiful Tsaghkadzor woodlands along the slopes of the Tegenis.

I step out and take in the breathtaking vistas of the majestic Caucasus Mountains. I can stare for hours but my guide Shushan motions for me to catch up with her. I slip my phone into my jeans and count the number of crunches my Nike’s make in the snow before I reach where she is. Back when Armenia was part of the USSR, Soviet athletes came to Tsaghkadzor (Gorge of flowers) to train for the Winter Olympics. In-between her narrations Shushan ensures that I begin to understand the intricate historical and cultural fabric of the country and the values of the Armenian people. It is clear that she does not want me to leave without understanding those whom she represents and so a common theme runs through her narratives – resilience. Resilience in the face of changing ideologies, resilience in the face of a macabre genocide and resilience as the country walks a tightrope between tradition and modernity.

Odds are, if you are a traveler, you have met some pretty interesting people over the years. Some memories of them are fleeting while others recur. Many times, when reminiscing, the memory of the people that I have met along the way will outweigh the memories of the destination itself.

My travel personality is a polar opposite to my regular one. When I am traveling I find myself to be outgoing, lively and social; when I am confined by routine, I am reserved, quiet, and introverted. Isn’t that strange? That said, I love to engage with people during my travels, meeting new people and traveling go hand in hand and any interaction, good or unpleasant, adds depth to my experience.

My first impression of travel in the Caucasus region was a lovely one, arriving in sunny Tbilisi in 2016, to an enthusiastic welcome from the immigration officers. A couple of nights later, I was on a coach to Batumi, drinking wine from a Styrofoam cup with three new friends who were part of my tour group. That experience still stands out for me but was only a little taste of what was to come as the people of Georgia, Azerbaijan (2016) and Armenia (2019) are some of the most warm and welcoming I have met anywhere in the world.

I quickly scribble some of these thoughts in my diary (so that I remember them when I am staring at my computer screen later), pull my gloves back on and look around for my guide. Shushan has already reached the top of the slope and is and is signaling me towards a narrow uphill path shaped in the shrubbery by the footsteps of previous climbers. I sigh dramatically and prepare myself for my second hike in 34 years. ‘Resilience’ I remind myself and make my way up the slope. It will be a while before I reach the top.

Some people have a way of making a permanent space for themselves in our memories, don’t they?

I will never forget the people I have met during my visit, Narine, Marina, Hovo, Amir, Narkek, Shelby, Shushan’s mother’s freshly baked Gata or my time in Armenia, even if I try.

I did it! Dead Sea-rious!

47376641_10161171579730252_2573991943650410496_nFor someone who doesn’t know how to swim, I hobble bravely; barefoot across salt-encrusted rocks and slither into the cool waters of the sea. It feels so slippery on my skin, like oil – but it looks as clear as daylight. There is literally only one family around and the only sounds are the ripples I make and the laughter from the children. I can’t believe I have this magical place to myself and in under thirty seconds I am on my back, floating involuntarily along the shoreline. Excitement mingles with fear as I gaze up at the sun, in disbelief, I am floating in the Dead Sea.
Around me, the water glimmers in all shades of aqua and the mountains of Israel glow pink in the distance. A lone green sprite can, floats lazily by, the only other sign of humanity in this place and I find myself jealous that the can will end up in Israel, before I ever do.
I haven’t always wanted to visit the Dead Sea and float in its salty water. It’s not something that consumes one’s thoughts or plans. It just sort of, sits there in your subconscious memory box, piled up on all the wonderful things you hear and read about in life but may never get to experience firsthand. So, being here, experiencing the wonder of nature and the glory of Christ’s creation is a surreal experience for me. Words don’t seem adequate, but I will try anyway.

I began travelling in 2008 and have been to twenty countries since. Each one has been an experience like no other. Every time I see a mountain range, or walk through an ancient cathedral or marvel at a natural wonder I am humbled. It’s as if they’re looking down at me, staring me in the eye and saying ‘we’ve been around for thousands of years, we’re still here, and we’re still beautiful, who in the world are you?’
Travel has become my way of life. It’s how I originally discovered who I was, and is how I continue to discover who I am. While I have spent five years completing three college degrees, I believe I am truly educated because of travel.

I can see why the Dead Sea claims such healing properties, my skin already feels baby-smooth. Plus, floating is fun and my buoyancy makes me feel like a graceful swimmer even tough I’m pretty sure the laughter from the children was really their reaction to me trying to gain my composure in a very persistent sea. I chuckle giddily too, after all who would have ever thought I’d ever be here, doing this? Surreal, I tell you!