First, Let us get the cough-cough stuff out of the way. I wrote this article two years ago. It was written during my first presentation made in an international country. The US of A that too, the big guns, literally. So I was nervous ofcourse. It was the first time I would be entirely on my own in a foreign country. It inspired some fun and angsty thoughts, which I wrote down. At the time, I was told this was too personal. I agree, this isn't exactly linkedin post material. But it is still the honest experience of a homesick person, trying to grasp something entirely new around her. So, this is what that came to.

Recently, the Summer of Haskell program accepted my project proposal. Haskell is a purely functional programming language. Functions are the primary way to write programs in it. The project was to create mandala visualisations for Tidal Cycles, a music software. Haskell programming tracks mathematics closely, bringing some nice compact laws with it. It is well suited to transforming music, graphics, and many other interconnected things.

This year the International Conference on Functional Programming took place in Seattle. For contributing to the program, my invite arrived a month before the set date. The deadline was impossible and unrealistic. Visas in India are hard to get, usually taking months. But if you have nothing to lose, you can try every option. The visa arrived on the last day before I had to leave. When they found out, my parents were thrilled. Full of joy stirred with laughter that couldn't believe itself.

There was just a tiny problem. Presentation is storytelling. This is why you act like an alcoholic writer through most of it, wondering what the hell was wrong with you. The first few attempts were ridiculous, full of details that no one cared about. It would have gone on to one hundred slides if not for the help of my friends and mentors. But I kept thinking, who takes weeks for 15-odd slides?

Technical presentations are usually full of bold claims, bored attendants and nonsensical lying. On similar lines, I also gave flustered speeches with confusing demos. After a point, I had to try something different. There was a lot of procrastination and head-banging against the wall. Finally, I thought “All you have to try and do is make the next best presentation you can make.” So that is what I did.

I packed and repacked the bags and headed out. As I flew above the Pacific Northwest of the US, what struck me the most were the trees. The country needs the woods for its freshwater. Witch potion ingredients for names. Douglas-Fir, Western hemlock and red cedar. Stout little triangles from the sky bent like punished kids. The only reference I had was the tween romance series Twilight. In it, sleek vampires play baseball and drink animal blood only, because they are vegetarian. One could easily imagine slightly modernised, but ritualistic sacrifice in those woods. Perhaps I was next in line.

Up until reaching the hotel, the only people I spoke to were my parents. Hello, how are you? Yes, I am settled, boarded, and had food. Yes, Yes, Yes. But as I spoke with the clerks and the guards, a terrible thing sank in. These people don’t understand what I am saying. Too much of my Indian accent slipped in, without ever asking for permission.

This wasn’t in the plan. I attended a proper school, scored well in English papers and earned fourth place in speaking competitions. I was confident I’d be able to handle myself anywhere. This happened to other people. Classmates who never took the effort, teachers from various small towns, who I made fun of. But, as punishment, things always come full circle. I had to make a presentation for God’s sake. And here I was, repeating every phrase to the waiter to get food. Another delusional person, thinking the accent won’t matter in a strange land.

Going to the convention floor didn’t help either. I knew no one there. Still, I attended a few talks. And although there were many new things to learn, I could not ask anyone a question. It was like your first day in a new workplace. You are nervous and eager to impress. But the bosses chain you to a chair and discuss company problems. You work in the same domain, so you pick up bits and pieces. But this is way above your pay grade. All you can do is look at them in confusion and awe.

In hindsight, it makes sense. People were talking to their professional colleagues at a research conference. The newbie, hoping to ask questions but too hungry and jet-lagged to try, won’t get too ahead. Or that's an excuse. After a while, it got too much, so I left once the talks were over.

That evening, I stepped out for a walk. There were many e-bike stands along the way. Ninety per cent of e-bikes were whooshing past pedestrians. And the signs along the sidewalk had one instruction. DO NOT RIDE ON THE SIDEWALK.

Seattle hosts an inlet of the Pacific Ocean that drains into its lakes. From parts of the city, you can see the flat white top of Mount Rainier. Next to the Ferris wheel on the waterfront, backed by the land across the inlet, Pike Place Market stands. A hustling and bustling place. Tourists wait in line in front of the first Starbucks. Posters promise Edgar Allen Poe shows, played by a man that looks more moustache than man. And then an actual fish market.

Hoping to hear a familiar sound, I walked towards the water. People took pictures of the Ferris wheel in a quiet spot. I joined them. In the distance, the ships rusted and drifted away. Large machines shuffled next to piers and towering cranes. Though invisible from that point, Mount Rainier loomed behind. I wondered if people from a hundred years ago felt the same calm. Things will go on, long after you are gone.

Right before the evening could set, I reached the hotel. This place had everything. There was a dimly lit bar full of candles. Friend groups of vacationing retirees. Tech employees out for a dinner night and well-dressed bar-tenders. Taking all this in, alone, I went back to the room. Lights were out by 8 PM.

The next day, people walked into the conference room, waiting for the coffee to settle in. Important researchers and people from companies like DeepMind and Jane Street presented. This time around, I was glad to be there. Even being in their presence was good enough. My sister and her partner, who came to support me from California, met me soon after. It was very kind of them. They said they’d join me later, and I left to attend some more talks.

Lunch had a confusing start. As I revolved around some tables, a kind man helped me out. “That’s what these things are for, talking to people you don’t know.” That made the afternoon easier. I spoke to people who worked in big companies and small ones. Then I left to prepare some more.

Soon, my presentation started. I gave some context to explain the project. Then something unreal happened. There were some nodding, genuine faces. They seemed interested, with no hidden agenda. People in the crowd looked me in the eye. There was a shared space between us. During the demo, my audio failed. It was easy to brush off though. “It makes music with functions”, I said to cover up. That received an understanding laugh.

There are a few rare life moments that you hold on to. These people were here because they loved programming with functional languages. The work is difficult because the applications are difficult to explain to others. But they wanted to see and make something beautiful. I offered the small piece I could. It worked. I completed this by conveying my love for the language. While stepping down, I heard real claps.

Later on, while exploring Seattle with my cousins, this would make me less lonely. Revisit Pike Market Place. Try handmade cheese sticks and have some bad pasta. Talk to overly kind strangers. From a distance, on the hilltop near downtown, look at the volcano imposed over the city’s skyline. Take pictures from the Space Needle against the glass window, afraid for my life. And then after talking and laughing and trying new food, the trip would be over.

But for now, reality was still waiting. People came and told me they liked my presentation. Showed me similar work and discussed the challenges. They spoke to me about Mumbai! Yet, it was still difficult to approach some people. There was nothing to say because I had done my job. Packed my stuff and headed out for a better Seattle adventure. And I left, a little less afraid then before.

References

1. The Presentation

2. Article Explaining Summer Of Haskell Work