A holiday photo project

Last week, in the run-up to the holidays, I decided to take a wander around the city with the ol' camera to capture some of the holiday spirit that seems to be spilling around every corner. And, as always, the city didn't disappoint.

Thank you, NYC, for always being such a wonderful place in the holidays.

 The tree at Bryant Park

 An elusive Empire State Building, glowing through the fog

 All over the city, holiday markets!

 Rounded the corner and suddenly there it was before me, my favouritest building in the whole city!

Wandered round to the grand New York Public library 

 A street kebab guy, winding down after a long day's work

The practically undiscovered tree in the little plaza behind Bloomingdales. Why deal with the crowds of the Rockefeller Centre when you can have a tree all unto yourself.

Just for jury duty

A week ago, the timing oddly appropriate just before US Independence Day, I went over to City Hall and finally got my US Citizenship.


After the year-long process of getting my background check, my eyeballs scanned and my fingers printed, I had approached the appointment like any administrative process, just like getting my drivers license from the DMV. But as it turns out, I had vastly underestimated the capacity for American sentimentalism. In fact, everyone involved in the 'swearing in ceremony', from the judge and clerks to the security personnel, took pains to make the event as meaningful as possible.


The morning I got my citizenship, some two hundred other aspirings were also in the hall with me, receiving theirs. I glanced around the room in awe. It represents people from countries and continents all over the world. Everyone had come with excited families and friends in support. Likewise for me, Delta had accompanied me cheerily, sitting in the back of the room, where I could turn around and give him a small excited wave from time to time.


The ceremony itself was brief, but meaningful. After a short talk about the values of citizenship, the judge handed us each our "naturalization certificates", and off we could go. As soon as I got mine, Delta and I hugged eachother in glee, and scuttled off to find an American flag to use as a backdrop for the stereotypical photo.


Finally! After all the waiting, and all the bureaucracy, the day had finally arrived. I applied for my passport straight away. After all, the flexibility to travel was a driving reason behind my application in the first place.

Well, travel and, erm, jury duty, of course.

A recap month

A month has gone me by, a dormant time on the blog. The sun has shone, the sky has blued, and the world outside has beckoned. It's been an active month in the McDelta household - a month brimming with biking, hiking and tennis. A lot has transpired during this blogatorium, and it seems almost remiss to relegate each memory to a mere line or two. But there you go, such is the nature of the catch-up post following a dormant month on the blog.

Much to our excitement, Delta and I finally procured ourselves our tennis permits for the summer. In a seemingly ridiculous move, tennis permits in the city are available at only two locations - Paragon Sports, and Central Park. And yet, despite how regularly we frequent each, it seems even more ludicrous but it still took us two months to get around to actually procuring our own permits for the summer. But finally, here we are, permits in hand. A whole summer of potential has opened itself before us, and excitement abounds.

And just as our action meter kicked it up a notch, Rohinton and Jeet came to visit last weekend. It was lovely as ever to see them and hear about how happily they had settled into their new home in Bermuda. Delta and I had been hoping to visit them in Bermuda in a couple weeks, but as it turned out, the whole US Citizenship thing has taken longer than I'd anticipated, and I won't have my papers in time. Perhaps August or September now.

Speaking of my US Citizenship, I didn't hear from the USCIS in the longest time after my interview. For the first few weeks, it seemed normal. In about the fourth week, a nagging doubt arose in my mind. What if I hadn't passed that interview at all? What if they had forgotten to update my status in the administrative systems? What if their letter had gotten lost in the mail? And then one of my colleagues told me a story she had read in her local newspaper about a mail man who had been arrested for hoarding bags of undelivered mail for twenty years. And the nagging doubt in the back of my mind instantly flared into outright panic. What if my letter was being hoarded in a mailman's house even right now? When I entered the fifth week of my waiting period, I could take it no longer, and I called the USCIS. After about ten minutes of combating the phone system, ("press 1 for..., press 6 for..."), I reached a recorded message telling me that I should not call unless my letter was delayed by at least eight weeks. So I hung up in discouragement, I still had three more weeks of waiting to go before the USCIS would listen to my concern.

But then, all of a sudden, I received my appointment letter in the mail last week. It lay there nestled in our pile of catalogs and junk mail, glowing with a halo of brightness and purity. I ripped it open in my excitement: July 2. On July 2, folks, I go in for my swearing in ceremony to take the oath of americanism, pizza, apple pie, and all.

I'm sure the day will be upon us before we know it. But there's still a fair amount to keep us occupied between now and then. Next week, I go to Seattle for work. Instead of catching the Thursday night red-eye back as I normally do, Delta will be flying out there to come visit me instead, and we're going to try our hand hiking and camping for a couple nights around Mt Rainier. Finally, after a few urban weeks of tennis and biking, we'll be back out in the mountains again! The week after that, we're taking part in a challenging fifty mile bike ride in Long Island.

There's no denying it, the summer is fully here!

Red, White and Blue

Yesterday, I went for my US Citizenship interview. I wasn't sure what to expect really, and despite everyone's assurances that this wasn't rocket science, I worked myself up into a bit of a tizzy anyway. That's just the way it goes with tests of any kind. If you're a product of the Indian education system, you know what I mean.

As has always been my experience with the USCIS, I was interviewed by a very kindly officer. She went through all the details of my application, inspecting each area of my life with a fine-toothed combs, only just barely stopping short of asking about my highschool boyfriends. Not that I minded, frankly it's sometimes cathartic to ramble on about oneself in general.


"Ok, now we have to go through a civics test, you ready?" she asked me.
I nodded. I had studied the material. I was reasonably prepared.
She asked me a few questions and I shot answers back at her, like a rapid-fire quiz.
"Who's the speaker of the house?"
"Pelosi"
"How many members are there in the house of representatives?"
"435"
"When was the Declaration of Independence signed?"
"1776"

And so it went for a while, and I started to feel pretty comfortable with the whole ordeal. And then suddenly, a question that through me for a loop.
"What are the two longest waivers in the US?"
Huh? I blinked. I swallowed. "Pardon?"
"What are the two longest waivers in the US?"
Waivers? I couldn't think of any waivers - let alone long ones. And forget about knowing the longest! Were waivers long? I had no clue.
"Erm, I don't know," I mumbled softly.

But she only smiled. "Can you name any of the waivers in the US?" she asked, encouragingly.
I racked my brain for any mention of any waiver I might have ever heard of, but my mind came up empty. Nada.
"Sorry I don't know any" I said, disappointed.

Crap! Was I going to lose out on citizenship because of a couple of waivers?!
But she wasn't ready to give up on me yet, bless her kindly heart.
"Come on, you must no some waivers."
I shook my head miserably.
"Do you know what a waiver is?"
And suddenly, of course, I wasn't sure anymore. Had I misunderstood what a waiver was, my entire life?
"Not in this context, not really". A mild panic came over me.

She handed me her book where the question was written. "Here, read this," she offered.


And there it was, plainly in print: What are the two longest rivers in the US?


"Oh!" I slapped my forehead. "RIVERS! You mean two longest rivers!" I exclaimed in relief.
She looked at me blankly. "That's what I said. The two longest waivers in the US."

And so, it turned out, it was just an accent thing.


No need for panic folks, it appears after that little false alarm, that I am through.

Bureacracy TLC

Over the last few months, I have spent innumerable hours at the USCIS office getting finger-printed, eyeball-scanned and photographed. Such are the trials and tribulations of citizenship application.

So it's fair to say, I suppose, that over the last few months I have grown quite accustomed to the ways of the USCIS. And I feel the bursting desire to announce, with fond twangings of the heart, that I hold the USCIS right up there with the USPS as two of my favourite bureaucracies in the whole world.

You think I jest? Seriously - have you walked in to a USPS branch recently? They are always so lovely. It's all "yes, dear", "of course we can do that for you", "let's try to take care of that as quickly as we can, shall we, dear?". Nothing like a bit of TLC. Especially when it comes at exactly the right moment, after you've been standing in the USPS line for 20 minutes and are exasperated to the end of your tether.

The USCIS has somewhat the same feel (not just the comfortingly drab grey walls) - but the feeling of TLC. I think I've finally put my finger on it. Large governmental bureacracies breed complacency. And I don't mean complacency in a bad way, but more as a culture that actually allows people to take the time to be nice to each other.

Go on, give it a try. Go to the FedEx store and be taken care of with sharp efficiency in three minutes by a person who is so focused on the task that they barely look at you. Then go to the USPS branch and wait in line for twenty minutes, and finally reach the counter and get asked, "hello dear, how are you today?!". You'll see what I mean about feel-good bureacracy.

I could be slightly biased of course. After all, the kind lady with the lovely smile at the USCIS office today gave me a free booklet on US Civics (complete with pictures and all) so I can study for the citizenship test when it comes.

I'm jumping into US Civics with a degree of alacrity I rather failed to muster during my highschool days. Studying isn't my forte per se. But I'll be darned if I disappoint those lovely people at the USCIS by failing the test.

A little bit better

Today, I read a statistic that clean threw me for a loop.

About 5% of America's energy consumption is from wasted use. Eg computers left on overnight (guilty), lights left on in rooms that no one is in, continuous heating and airconditioning even when no one's home, cellphone chargers in outlets even when there's no phone charging. The average American will go through twice as much energy in their lifetime as the average European. There's a simple explanation for this of course. Energy is such a cheaply available resource in America, that Americans have never had to learn to be conservative with it.

That just makes me so sad. I admit with a fair dollop of chagrin that I've been guilty of leaving my computer on overnight far too often. Why? So that I can save the thirty seconds in the morning that it would otherwise take to reboot? Its just simply inexcusable. Delta has told me many a time to shut down the darned machine before going to bed. But - oh - by the end of the day when I'm so tired - I just don't have. the. energy. to. go. all. the. way. over. just. to. turn. it. off.

But when I read this, I was instantly mortified. Horrified. Outraged. Aghast. 5%!

We can bitch and moan about the ineffectiveness of Copenhagen, but what's the point? If we can't even take it upon ourselves to make the smallest of these sacrifices, how could we expect large international treaties of a global nature to succeed?

So this year, for a change, a real resolution. Every night, the computers go off. No iffs or buts or other excuses I may concoct. Just off.

Now that doesnt seem like much to ask for, does it?

Penny for my own thoughts

Dear Penny,

Don't you think it might be time to retire?

It's quite obvious that we the people will never be able to reach a consensus on your future (just like healthcare.). It costs more than a penny to make a penny. And when the metals market rises, it costs way more than a penny to make a penny. But then on the other hand, you're a part of history and culture and tradition and that kind of smitherish. So people will always want you around, just for kicks.

But the truth is, Penny, your time is nearing it's end. And here's how I know. Oftentimes, I notice people drop a coin, they look down to find it, then realise it's a penny, and just walk away. Bending to pick up the penny is not worth the effort.

Does that make sense to you? That's not how you'd like to be remembered, is it? So why not quit while you're ahead? Let's gently, and respectfully (but firmly), tuck you into bed.

And likewise I hope, one day when I'm doddering around pointlessly, you'll look out for me and tell me the same.

Profiteering in the forever stamp industry

I've realised I really like the friendly staff at the Postal Service. Their kindly and affectionate nature just enhances the otherwise rather tedious process of sending mail. You may also remember, of course, the USPS Super who rescued my check almost three years ago, despite all odds. Yep, that is just how great those USPS folks are.

I trundled to the post office this afternoon, to send a little present for a friend in London. Of course, even in that mundane activity I succeeded in introducing a bit of adventure: when I reached the post office, I realised I had forgotten my friend's address back at the office. So back to the office it was, (and then back to the post office). Obviously, I don't have much of a problem keeping myself entertained.

As I was paying for the package, the person at the counter asked me, "so, you want to buy a book of stamps?"
"Nah," I said, having thrown away many unused stamp books in the past. "The price always keeps changing, so there's really no point."
"That's why you should buy forever stamps," she said.
"Eh?"
"Once you buy forever stamps, you can continue to use them even if the price goes up. No matter how much the price goes up."
"Seriously?!" I felt like I'd walked in on a gold mine.
"Yeah, of course." she looked surprised, and probably was, given my disproportionate excitement.
"I should buy a lifetime supply of stamps!"
She gave me an encouraging smile. And, predictably, I was encouraged.
"In fact I could even sell them in 10 years for a profit!"
She just laughed out loud.

Speaking of making profits, I opened my first brokerage account last week. You know, because these volatile markets are obviously a good time to dapple in investments. Anyways, so I opened the brokerage account, and watch my investment half itself in the space of a week.

I guess I should just stick to profiteering in the forever stamp industry.

We're being nickled and dimed

I heard on 60 Minutes the other day that, due to the growing cost of metals, it actually costs the US Mint two cents for each penny coin they manufacture, and ten cents for each nickel.

What, I thought to myself. Nothing costs a penny or a nickel anymore. They should just get rid of those coins.

They interviewed a senior official at the US Mint. "It is unsustainable for the US Mint to continue running at a loss like this," he confirmed.

Then they interviewed a random selection of pedestrians.
"What do you think that it costs the mint two cents for each penny they manufacture, and a dime for each nickel?"
"Get rid of 'em," the people responded.

Then they introduced a senior chap in the government.
"We can't make the penny obsolete!" he shouted. "It's an ingrained part of American culture. I mean, people have grown up storing their pennies in their piggy banks!"
If you weren't squirrelling away all your pennies, you silly man, maybe the US Mint wouldn't have to make quite as many each year, I thought.

And then the government official continued, "the penny is an essential part of American history. There are many adages built around this. Like - 'a penny for your thoughts'. "
At this, I balked. I wasn't having any of it. You've inherited that adage from the British, you muppet! The word 'penny' comes from the British currency not the American! My inner voice was screaming silently at the telly.

So I went home and told Doobs about this. "Did you know it costs the US Mint two cents to make each penny?" I asked.
"Forget the penny!" she retorted. "They should get rid of the nickel!" I hadn't even told her about the cost of manufacturing nickels yet, so I was curious.
"Why?"
"They just don't make sense. They're bigger than the dime and they take up all the space in my wallet and I confuse them with quarters and then after all that, they don't really have any value. Even the homeless glare when I give them nickels!!"
Doobs was so inflamed about the subject, that I almost fell bad to tell her about the cost of manufacturing them.

When even a single banana costs at least a quarter, we really are being nickeled and dimed on this one.