The World Is Flat, But the Pavements Are Not

A Pedestrian’s Guide to International Relations… and Tripping Hazards

Thomas Friedman wrote a famous book The World Is Flat, arguing that globalization has removed barriers and levelled the playing field.

I’d love for him to stroll through Kochi before making such bold claims. Because here, the pavements tell a very different story.

Take, for example, the bridge I walked today.

It’s been a while since I last took this route… ever since the Tricycle Incident. I still remember the day I heroically (or foolishly, depending on perspective) tried to help a man struggling to push a mountain of plastic waste up the incline. It ended with me almost becoming part of the recycling process.

Ever since, I’ve chosen the safer, less interactive routes.

But today, feeling reckless… or maybe just bored… I decide to brave the bridge again.

At first glance, the pavement looks reasonable. A stretch of neatly arranged concrete slabs. Solid. Dependable. Predictable.

Except, of course, for the minor detail that many of them aren’t actually fixed to the ground.

Step on one, and it shifts slightly, sending a tremor through your foot.

Some rock gently like a cradle. Others let out a groan of concrete scraping concrete as if awakening from a deep slumber.

A few even produce an ominous, echoing thud… the kind of sound that makes you wonder if you’ve just triggered a hidden passage to the centre of the Earth.

And yet, I walk on, unfazed.

Years of navigating Kochi’s unpredictable footpaths have equipped me with the agility of a cat burglar and the instincts of a tightrope walker.

I have learned that balance isn’t just a physical skill… it’s a survival strategy.

Cars, too, perform their own ballet of controlled hesitations.

As they hit the incline, the bridge reminds them of its presence with a loud clang!, a sound that resonates across the expanse like a distant war drum… heavy, ominous, and signalling that something (or someone) is about to be shaken.

Every vehicle, no matter its size, is forced into a moment of humility as it slows down to acknowledge the gaps between the slabs… designed, apparently, to “allow for expansion.” (Or, as I suspect, to remind us of the impermanence of life with every jolt.)

And this is where I wonder… would Thomas Friedman still insist that the world is flat after walking this bridge?

Would he glance at the unpredictable concrete slabs and think, ‘From Beirut to Jerusalem, to Kochi’s Bridge of Doom’… a journey far more perilous than any geopolitical conflict he’s covered?

And as I perform my own balancing act… dodging loose slabs, adjusting for unpredictable shifts, and stepping lightly to avoid a full-blown infrastructure failure… would he call it The Lexus and the Olive Tree of pedestrian survival? A battle between modernization (the passing cars) and old-world infrastructure (the rebellious pavement slabs).

Finally, as I reach the end of the bridge, victorious yet exhausted, I can’t help but think that if Thomas Friedman ever walked here, he’d have no choice but to write a sequel:
📖 Thank You for Being Late… because after navigating these pavements, lateness is inevitable.

Until then, I continue my journey, reminding myself that no matter how advanced the world gets, some things will always require a little bit of balance and a whole lot of luck.

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📌 Footnote for the Curious:
Thomas L. Friedman is a three-time Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and long-time weekly columnist for The New York Times. He’s made a name (and several bestsellers) out of explaining why the world feels like a high-speed rollercoaster with no seatbelts. He wrote The World Is Flat (spoiler: it’s still round), Hot, Flat, and Crowded (Earth’s not-so-subtle cry for help), The Lexus and the Olive Tree (where globalization meets an identity crisis), and Thank You for Being Late—his philosophical nudge to slow down and reflect while everything else zooms past.

Frankly, if he ever took a stroll down Kochi’s pavements, he might scrap all metaphors and title his next one “Help, the Slab Just Moved”… or better yet, Thank You for Being Late, Because I Nearly Twisted My Ankle.