Europe Diary 2026: Days 2, 3, 4 -- 11, 12, 13 Oct 2026

 Day 2: 11-Oct-2026

Paris

It's ironic that 'productive' is the best word to describe 11-Oct. It was a heavyduty on-foot day, covering: The Louvre, Palace of Versailles, and the Eiffel. Age is catching up. Swathi & I looked at each other almost at the same time our lower backs broke because of walking. As I sipped beer and we munched potato chips, we reminded each other the importance of working out. The endpoint of our last stop was the entry point of the Palace of Versailles; where the notorious Ironman contest was being concluded. I stood there looking at (a) the opulent palace on one side, and (b) the finishing triathloners on the other, with beer on my mind.

It's unfair to expect people to be ambitious in a climate like Europe's. Where you turn your head, and there's a scenic visual waiting to be rejoiced. The cold and the daylight (or the delay/absence of it) don't help either. All in all, it's a continent of idyllic leisure, if you ask me. But I am typing this with my fingers dipped in privilege, I'm aware. For, I've been walking, sucking in the good-AQI air, sipping coffee & beer here & there, walking again, and trying not to remember my life back home. That's been the theme.

Back to it: the Eiffel was breathtaking at nightfall. As ordinary as it looked during day, it acquired a glory rivaled by few, at night. Swathi was thrilled, like most women inexplicably feel at the tower's sight. It was pleasant around the neighborhood. We walked after the customary pictures.

Back to the hotel, we were welcomed by the 'closed' sign at the Marriott's restaurant. Walk again, and we landed at a Tibetian restaurant. We found the base dishes of what we wanted but we were struggling to explain 'how' we wanted what we wanted, to the lady at the counter; and then comes Zikma to the fore. He studied Buddhist Philosophy at Varanasi for 12 years, who had once emigrated to India from Tibet, before he slunk himself into France illicitly. Spoke to us in Hindi as we expect a Tibetian would speak, but boy, the words fell like notes on the piano. After he tossed & made fried rice to our Indian liking, he sent us back with a story of his homecoming that's been due for 26 years. He smiled that he sees his parents on video calls, though. 

P.S: Mosa Lisa was just whelming. Not over, not under. 

Day 3: 12-Oct-2026

Normandy

This was the day I had been looking forward to the most ever since the trip had started taking shape. Imagine a handful of zealous men. They led countries, commanded armies, and surmounted seas. And yet, their greed transcended the realm of human v inhuman. And they caused wars. Ones that shaped the world we live in. In the process, millions lost lives. Most of them kissed goodbyes to their loved. Many of them did so for the last time. Before fighting wars they didn't start. 

Each name embossed had a story of an unreturning son, a moved-on spouse, a broken father, and an unresolved grief as its honorifics and postnominals. 

It was too pleasant for a cemetery where 9389 soldiers were buried. Blame my privilege for having unwittingly spotted the 'niceness' of the place. A sombre outing. 

There's not much to talk about today, except for how a Hungarian tour guide lamented about fake cigarettes in France, at 6.00 in the morning. 

Day 4: 13-Oct-2026

Pârïs Again

Alright. Slept well. At a hotel in Montmartre with slightly shady alley leading up to the hotel. What opened up in the hotel after pulling up was a nice surprise. An upscale hotel in the bohemian Parisian neighborhood. There's a tension felt by most Asians, I guess, at the check-in/concierge counters at hotels in the West. A faceoff point of cultures and invisible one-upmanship battles between unwise hagglers. One general upside of not-unhealthy mental ageing is social insecurities perishing. I am much less insecure now. And it's fun to put the other person of a perceived fairer race on a spot, with a request or something - ask them for something tricky, disarm them, see their superiority advance to their forehead, disarm it with a compliment, dart a question sounding like a compliment, say thanks in 2 languages, and walk away without hearing them out saying the cab's speeding away. Just a no-harm-intended fun. 

A lot of walking today. Covered a few spots Instagram algorithm reminded my wife to not miss. Most of them lived up to the visual pleasantness Instagram promised. Say, the Bibliotheque Nationale  or the Arc dé Triomphe, and the likes.

The vain me tried shopping shoes at the Galleries Lafayette but I realized I am not wealthy yet. I will come back. Speaking of vanity, it's such a fashionable country with people of all genders, ages, and walks being impeccably dressed. The climate supports it. So does the culture, and its outdoorsy attitude. Fashion capital for a bloody good reason. From waiters in cafés to drivers to corporate honchos to sports coaches.

I type this as we're minutes away from Zürich's train station.

Next stop: Switzerland. A country whose ice mountains looked so inconquerably far & otherworldly, that when someone gifted me a New Year greeting card with an Alps' picture - that made me wonder & feel wistful instantly. This was in the mid 90s. 

14th has Zürich in it. Along with Rhine Falls in it. Hopefully a lot of walking, coffee, and beer at the end of it. Before 15th brings some icy adventure with it. 

Will come back to this space.  

Europe Diary 2026: 10-Oct - Brussels --> Paris

 Day 1: 9-Oct-2026

Arrived at Warsaw from Delhi, by midday. The small, cosy airport resembles the city's smallness, an Italian coffee-drinker on the next table remarked, planting his earphones back into their pod as an act of politeness to my courteous nod when our eyes met.

2 Heinekens (I) and 2 cappuccinos (Swathi) later, we found ourselves en route to Brussels. As the flight soared, I peeked into the window to find what's a rare sight for an Indian who travels domestically: large, sweeping tracts of greenness, well manicured and well apportioned. The latter both plague an aspirational Indian's thoughts - for a homeland that looks well from above & within. 

Brussels - A neat city that borders on looking abandoned, strange for a European city on a weekend night. People look at you, and express a ready sorriness of looking at you without your permission. All in their eyes. All in that fleeting second of passing by. As opposed to the 2 extremes we are experts of: either disregard the passerby with utter dismiss or stare them down attributing incrimination. 

A decent Indian meal at Rangla Punjab brought the day to a close, but not before observing why the Indian attendant was inexplicably rude & loud to us. Was there some immigrant guilt he was forcing us to share with him? How would he have known that we're not patriotic people? For, what more allegiance can triumph over our loyalty to capitalism?

Day 2: 10-Oct-2026

An obscenely early time to wake up, so that we can sleep in Paris tonight. So chained am I to the idea of 'vanity in traveling' that we have more than 1 suitcases each to lug around. Our Indian knuckles (bestfriends of sweat, heat, and dust) are beginning to say hello to cold. Swathi has a run-in with a French concierge man, as she requests him if he can help us print our train tickets. It is too early for a Frenchman to comply sweetly. And he is French enough to point out the same. I try charming him with my perfunctory smile. It works, and he smiles back. A win for my face's Jack Nicholsonesque reputation. 

We're here at the Brussels-Midi train station, well ahead of the train's departure time. The morning's slowly showing its true colours. Coupled with cold. English isn't received kindly. And the private-run train service is an apparition no one's heard of. 

We are pumping enough caffeine into our bodies to battle the cold, and the cruelty of cultural chasm. The views all around are a help though. Easy on the eyes. And, the cafés are universally lifesaving. They're accommodative, without a glint of neophobia. I'm on my 3rd cup of coffee as I type this, and the black-dressed Frenchman smiles as warmly as the coffee is. 

The bus-ride to Paris is 40 minutes from now. I am looking forward to ingesting myself with pleasing visuals of the European countryside. From amid the warm confines of a bus that doesn't honk. 

A thought cloud begins taking shape, about Paris. For all its broadcasted beauty, fragrance, and notoriety. 

Will come back to this space. 

   

This darned thing called Life

 I open X after 2 hours of an intense task at work, to get my periodic dopamine fix. I read this tweet/post that talks about how fast time whooshes by when you're compelled to do something you don't particularly enjoy, say, work. And, I catch myself wondering how the hell it's already August!

 

2 more hours pass after I return to work. The tweet continues swirling in my brain, poking at every corner it whizzes past. This is like the inverse of leaving everything you find in a better shape than you found it. The tweet does the damage to my brain that's been in overdrive for weeks.

 

I pause and catch myself thinking about times when work was a mere component in our lives before becoming our all-consuming identity. At least, for most of us. [I still know a few folk who resisted the corporate tradeoff, and it seems they knew exactly what they were choosing].

 

Anyway, there's a dull, droning psychological malaise all around us. People are generally unhappy with their lives. So, they choose to pepper social conversations with carefully-inserted details that elevate them above their peers. Except, such peppering is most times unsavory.

 

I was once that person. I thank the general ageing of my mind for coming to its senses before I got sentenced to being a phony for the rest of my life. It's stunning to witness the acts people put up to impress people they don't particularly like. I did that too. Boy, was it so tiring. I only realized how tiring it was after I stopped.

 

Is baring one's self to everyday life and its contours freeing? I don't think. It has its own nuisances to bring.

 

Cutting to my life, there's a long-due European vacation that starts 2 months from now. Barring the 3-day whirlwind of a Japan trip in 2025, I haven't taken a vacation in 2 years. Given how 'undeserving' I've felt of 'nice things' for most of my life (thanks to the passed-down, unwittingly keyed-in insecurities), this is a vacation I've damn-well earned and am looking forward to with a childlike anticipation.

 

Since it's been a while since I last put pen to paper, it is not unwarranted to jog your (the rare reader of this blog) memory about my chronically-skeptical self. It's the same person with same insecurities, anxieties, and yes - the occasional good things too. Except, all measured & managed a bit better, with 'restraint' being the underlying theme of it all.

 

It's both sobering and disillusioning when you realize that the 'magical tomorrow' never comes. For me, it's forced me to worship the cliché: enjoy (or try to) the journey/process/blah. I try to meet the optimum markers, and leave the rest to the indifference of it all.

 

For what is this darned thing called Life? I've never understood it. But there are a few nice things in it I don't dislike. 

Being Friendless and Other Stuff

 Truly at midlife. I am not sure what to feel about where I am at this juncture. But, one feeling stands pronounced: "Friendless." Given how it all (growing up) started about 17-18 yrs ago, I had always thought I'd be socially wealthy. Sure, I've burnt a few bridges along the way, but who hasn't? Finding myself practically friendless right at my midlife juncture is something I'd never thought of, or worried about. And, here I am. 

It's interesting how my personality is trying to bob away to the other end of the pendulum. I've been quite a private person for the last 10 years. Not by force, but by organic choice. My abhorrence for 'small talk' has done its job far too well. [For the first time, I've looked at my watch twice by the time I finish this 2nd paragraph]

Now I'm making voluntary efforts to indulge in harmless, yet patience-demanding small talk. At airports, the gym, the cafe I frequent, etc. The fact that it's going to get increasingly difficult to cultivate new, meaningful friendships with each passing year, is unsettling me. 

I've come to believe in the philosophy that it needs hard-work to be able to enjoy finer pleasures in life. The persistence to endure a couple of stage-setting chapters, to power through a few mood-building episodes or the discipline of living cleanly to live well, look well, feel well, and age well. And yet, I falter. But, I don't want to. To waste years in faltering & wobbling - only to reminisce this time wistfully a few years later.

I've got this gnawing feeling somewhere deep inside my stomach that this decent run I've been having for the last few years -- is all going to come crashing for some inexplicable reason. The rationalist in me reasons that it all depends on how I act. The irrational pessimist in me refuses to nod & agree. 

I know the importance of living mindfully. But, events come by and compel me to react, at least in thought. I more often than not react. I try to right the ship for events to not adversely affect the next ones, but its price is mindfulness. Perhaps, I have to extricate action from 'thought' to get there, but hey, a man can fall and try, right?

The pit I had once thrown myself into was so deep that it took ambition, not progress, to crawl out of it and make even with others. But now, I've discovered traces of ambition for a net positive future. But me being me, I am not sure how much the ambition will hold up. Again, a man can try, can't he?

My psychological need to splurge on proverbial perishables to keep proving to myself that I am not  deprived anymore - has finally subsided. I now don't buy often. I don't buy needlessly. I buy good stuff, with moderation & unforced restraint. 

I remember tweeting this:Who knew efforts to rediscover the ability to wonder at smallest of things would come to be a part of my goals?

That about sums it up. 

The Eventual Belongingness

 How long it has been. To sit and think about anything but next project, its people and the pains they bring. And life has kept happening, oblivious to the grand plans I dream up and minor inconveniences I frown at. At times, I stop in my tracks to realize I am in my mid-30s. Meaning, half my time has flown by. 

The very next thought that unfailingly hits me is about the outlandish dreams I once had so naively dreamt for myself. Makes me feel funny & wistful at the same time. 

I've come to work with people who are obsessively ambitious. Almost to the point of wondering if they know they are not here forever. They chase their dreams so feverishly that it's very fascinating and tiresome at the same time. On good days, it reminds me that it's not too late to dust the naive, outlandish dreams out of the dream-vault (that everyone has). On bad days, it makes me long for the lightness of being unaccountable for anything. 

I reach airports well in time. A little too well in time, often. It leaves me with a lot of time at boarding gates. Amid yawning adults and bored kids, I yank away at my laptop. When I don't, I think about who I've come to be. It pleases me to have become a resilient and an accountable person. I like that about the 30-something-me. 

Talking of airports -- being displaced from home makes me despair. I have always been a deeply rooted homeboy, who didn't bother visits but hated stays. In fact, I always have taken pride in being a homeboy who felt pinched by distance & the despair it causes. Lately, all that changed a bit. It's because I travel dizzyingly. I travel so much that I don't have time for the sweet melancholy of a displaced homeboy. 

But many hundreds of miles away, I have a home. One that I've built with a woman I trust more than I trust myself. A home that awaits my fortnightly return. A home where I seek and find quiet. 

My 30s as They Unfold

 It's funny how I once thought of Writing as my saving grace. It is now almost a defunct pastime in my life. They say, life happens. It has happened, for me too. As life's been happening, somewhere along the line, I have gotten busy in reacting to it, that I have hardly stopped for a moment to observe. 

What's happened in the last 3 years: more steps on the corporate ladder climbed, newer liabilities (in the garb of possessions) acquired, and torn between cities. While all that has been happening, quality of sleep has declined, appetite disturbed, and peace disrupted. I think I now get it when they say ageing slows one down. Sure, I'm still in my 30s, but that's a whole 10-years period after the phases of unbridled hope for a bright life. 

I am not complaining. I have a good life, materially. I don't have to check my banking app before making a purchase, small or big. That's a small victory, given where I started 10 years ago. But, there was this idea of a 30+ me in my head when I dreamt about my future in my 20s. A man who's made peace with his follies, and someone with a measured approach to things that affect him. Someone who's sure about his strengths, and painfully sure about his weaknesses. Adults tell young ones a lot of things, but what they don't tell you is they don't have it all figured out either. I guess, man's disregard for time's overarching superiority stems from his refusal to accept his smallness being amidst nature. 

Cutting to the chase, the man I thought I'd be in my 30s had always been an elusive idea. For, back then I always wanted to be a different man from who I was. A longing for an overall better-ness with no shape or direction to it. A few cues I had were: to read more, to think deep, and to emphasize on empathy, one day at a time, incrementally. 

I've got to thinking about these 3 cues lately. Have I read as much as I'd have liked to? Hell no. Like I told you upstairs, I was busy reacting to life. Have I come around to cultivate deep thinking? Nope, I have failed to build the agency to think deeply. Empathy? I guess that isn't a hard fail. I guess I've done okay in this department. 

Yet, there's a certain confidence I've come to possess. Perhaps, it's an awareness about self in the worldly sense. That I'm going to be around. Because, I think I've learnt to find a balance each time after every curve-ball that tried to throw me off. Or, this might as well be a delusion of confidence, owing to the last few good years I've had. But hey, there's no way to know, right?

As this cycle spirals forward, I just try to do my thing, and be kind.

Thoughts Mid-air

 The city looks tiny & flickering below.

As the aircraft soars its way through misty clouds,

the city below reduces to a faint ball of light.

I tilt my head gingerly to stare into the endless darkness,

and I find the old moon staring back at me warmly.

The moon - of which tales have been told & on which mankind has trudged,

reminds me of the 'giant leap' taken decades ago.

A leap of faith that attributed familiarity to this milky white ball of a moon

A reassuring though amid the indifferent sky - to know that man has only captured it, but not capsized by its vastness.