Dearest Friends,

Although handwriting has never been my forté, I’m excited at the prospect of penning handwritten letters to my family and friends after a long, long interruption.

While we advance into the digital age at breakneck speed, there is something very satisfying about putting pencil to paper and downloading my thoughts free of hyperlinks, contextual ads and spell checks. Knowing also that the letter will not reach the intended recipient for days or weeks makes it even more special.

India is perhaps the ideal place to rekindle a love of writing. The Indian postal service is the world’s largest, according to IndiaOnline.In, with a network of over 155,000 post offices nationwide. In the U.S. that number is just 32,000 and that number is expected to drop due to the postal service’s negative $2 billion annual operating income. The USPS has said it will cut the number of weekly delivery days to five in order to save money. While I am uncertain of the efficiency of the Indian Postal Servive vis a vis the USPS,  the Indian post gets points for its awe-inspiring magnitude alone.

At home in the U.S., people argue vociferously over whether print is a dying medium, but here, the written word is very much alive. Along with tremendous economic growth is a corresponding rise in literacy levels. According to the Economist, newspaper circulation is booming in places like India, where circulation of daily papers increased 33 percent between 2001 and 2005. While digital media is an important means of transmitting information here, people still like to get ink stains along with their news and coffee.

This afternoon I went to a stationary store to pick up some great paper and envelopes and it was a real feast for the senses. In addition to all the great pens, art supplies and journals, two whole displays were reserved for correspondence. Some of the paper I found downright tacky, but there were plenty of items that made me tingle with delight at the thought of someone opening my letter on such distinct stationary.

Beyond simple paper, I saw for the first time letter scrolls harkening back to a courtly age of chivalry and intrigue. The scrolls themselves are made of embroidered cloth, wrapped around a small dowel and tied with a ribbon. Inside the scroll is a small, silk envelope where I could place a neatly-folded letter or a few thousand rupees as a gift to someone. If this letter writing thing really takes off, I’m definitely going to send a few notes to people this way.

So far, I’ve only written to my grandparents, but I have already addressed and stamped a pile of envelopes destined for England, Japan and across the U.S. It’s very late now–almost 3:30 am, but I’m still buzzing with excitement. Not only do I find new joy in something old, but it’s one more way to unplug.

As I said before, my handwriting veers from atrocious to plain unfocused, but maybe in time, I will be at a point where I again enjoy looking at my frenetic script. So friends, if you want to receive a letter from me, anywhere in the world, leave a note in the comments or send me an email with your mailing address. Good night for now and keep an eye on your post box!

My hearty thanks and praise are due to satellite television, which, since I arrived in Bangalore, have made me into a born again sports fan. I haven’t been much of a TV watcher over the past several years–except to pass time when eating a meal, however, I now follow Formula 1 racing, cricket and English Premier League Football with a passion. While I have loved soccer (football), since early in my childhood, our TATA Sky setup at home allows me to watch five or more of the weeks best games on an awesome surround sound system.

Beyond the technology, I think there are many aspects that contribute to my newfound zeal for sports. It was my younger brother, Ejike, who first told me that sports are the ultimate human drama. To a large extent, he is right, though there is something about the hype, salaries and intrigue of professional athletics that makes it a drama that is almost impossible to tune out. Even a cricket test match only lasts for five days, but the pageantry spans entire generations.

There is also the sense of community that comes from watching the same game or race as people all across the globe. The isolation of living in Bangalore is unlike that I have ever experienced. If I lived in Los Angeles or Atlanta, my life might be similar. Here I spend significant portions of a typical day being chaufeurred to and from meetings, though contact with outsiders is limited to purchases or the occasional roadside beggar. However, with sports, I have an instant point of contact with friends back home and my social media community that spans South America, The U.S., Europe and Southeast Asia. A simple status update about the match I’m watching on ESPN can be enough to trigger a flurry of responses. It’s both a gratifying and unifying feeling.

Additionally, there is the thrill of learning something new. When it comes to Formula 1, or international cricket, I know almost nothing. Learning the backstory on Dhoni, or how and why a race track is set up expands my knowledge and gives me more reasons to look forward to the weekend.

While I wouldn’t expect to come to India to experience life through a television screen, it has been an ideal way to learn more about local tastes and also stay wired in. That said, one of my professors at the journalism school said the only real reporting is sports reporting. While so much in the media is staged, it’s nice to see that the eternal human struggle is played out fresh each and every day on the field of play.

This is my favorite TED Talk by a country mile. Jennifer 8 Lee follows Chinese food around the world to show how different the same cuisine is when interpreted by different people. Bon Appétit!