I am Joe

A light - extinguished...

2009-07-25T15:31:00.005-04:00

'Hey man, hows it going..... ready to party'... the words echo in my ears, never again to be spoken for the speaker is no more. Sometimes I do not quite understand life's quirks; what makes a person so full of life, hale & hearty, generous & kind just give it up on own volition all of a sudden. But rather than dwelling on why and how, I want to pen in a few thoughts and memories of the past, of good times together, of a good, simple and honest friend who passed away from this life into the next.
I got to know Bernd a few years ago; here I was - my first major assignment abroad in a country where I knew no one and did not even speak the language. We met by accident, he was in the room beside me and sauntered in with a cheerful smile and an invitation for coffee. If there was any presumption at the back of my mind about the German dour demeanor it all but vanished there. The summer raced along like a charm, with me living the mantra - work hard and play hard. Now, looking back I can reminiscence, if not for Bernd the latter thought would not have been lived up to its expectation.
Whether it was hiking, biking, touring or clubbing Bernd was ever eager; and with a BMW accompanied with a hunkering engine we thundered all over the countryside making merry on the weaving roads which let us push the machine to its maximum. And to document everything - there was his camera. Like all of us consultants, he too had traveled a fair bit and the camera was his prized possession from his travels. We functioned like a photographer and his light boy (yeah - I admit, 70% of the time I played the role of the 'assistant'). Not a problem with that, cause if anything I learned eons about photography, composition and well taking just darn good pictures from him. What endeared me to him was the patience and effort he took in nearly everything he did. Never a word of frustration and just like me - happy to look at the world through the bright unfettered eyes of a child.
Travels like always kept us apart, but we did keep in touch - when in Bonn he had a door open for me, a welcome retreat from the cold, impersonal touch of endless hotel stays. In the end, I was able to repay a bit of that back when we met one last time in Berlin. This time I was the host and he played visitor. Couldn't have seen a more content Bernd . By then he had gotten tired of traveling and now was happy with a non-consulting position; more importantly he was in love again and had even gone all the way to Peru to see his girlfriend's native country. We spent the day in Berlin - a bright sunny day aimlessly wandering and soaking up the sights of Germany's beautiful capital. Between nice food, and a few cups of coffee we basked in the sun and hung around as guys do. When I bid him adieu that evening, little did I know that it would be the last time our paths would cross.....
I miss the chap, for his hearty laugh, good nature and friendly disposition. If you may not have called him suave, for sure he was honest - a person who you could rely on and a great companion to boot. I can't imagine what could have happened in the space of a month to cause him to take such an extreme path, a path which ended a good life and left us all in sadness.
You were a great friend Bernd, thanks for all the great times we had together..... and I hope, I truly hope that wherever you are, you do find eternal rest and peace.

The Disneyland that is Dubai

2008-08-30T05:56:00.007-04:00

A bird's eye view of Dubai

I looked down from the airplane to a sea of lights stretching to infinity. One look at the airport and it served as an initial introduction to Dubai - in plain and simple terms a land of superlatives. When people from the outside world discuss Dubai its difficult not to use terms like biggest, most expensive, one of a kind or best. Simply put - a land of no compromises!Drive around the night and the skyline is one huge construction site with monstrous crane after crane sitting atop skycrapers in different stages of completion, alongside massive public works projects including a metro rail system and a maze of flyovers. And when we talk buildings here we are not referring to Soviet style matchbox buildings - they are stunning visual structures in steel, glass and concrete, each one competing with the other for bragging rights! On top of that the city plans to grow at least 10% each year for the next decade. When we talk about developments - they are nothing short of well - obscene, ranging from the trio of 'Palm islands' to the 'World and Universe islands' and to the 'greater than Hong Kong' 80km stretch of property development from Dubai towards Abu Dhabi. From discussions with residents I have learnt that it is not uncommon for each apartment to change hands multiple times before completion with rates ranging from USD 500 - 800 per sq.ft; we are talking serious money here! If you drive on the main road from Dubai to Abu Dhabi one thing that you notice is that 98% of the billboard signs are from real-estate firms - Emaar, Tamweel, Rimraan, Nakheel .... all promising your dream house from lovely villa's costing over a million dollars to high-rise apartment complexes with panoramic views. The remaining 2% are distributed between banks who provided the loans .... and well - everything else on sale. The payment systems are flexible - so what you see is that properties are being flipped multiple times even before being ready for occupancy. So the market seems to be flooded with speculators - some reason seems strikingly similar to the situation back home in the USA. Additionally if you drive around at night, many of the buildings seem like ghost towns - devoid of occupants with the sole lights coming from the strobes that illuminate the glass and concrete structure. Is this about to collapse - only time will tell; but I suspect as long as petrodollars continue to flood this market there will be some gains to be made. Walking around the malls in Dubai you realize how diverse Dubai actually is. From what I was given to understand only 15% of Dubai's population is local - the rest are comprised of expatriates; this is not very hard to see. It would seem that half of the South Asian subcontinent (Pakistan, India, Bangladesh etc.) is here. A huge number would most certainly be engaged in the burgeoning construction industry, but there are a significant number in the services sector too. In here I see the dichotomy in society - the way the costs are escalating here what you end up having are two classes of society - the haves, and the have-not's who serve the former. First you have the locals - the Emiratis who seem to live life of sheer luxury. Interesting hobby was to spot them at the mall, with multiple wives and kids in tow along with the ubiquitous Philippino maid handling the bags and taking care of the kids. Following them down the food-chain are the expatriates who function as advisors and executives in the firms around here. I guess here they can live a lifestyle which cannot be accomodated in their native country - flitting between work and social events. Below that come in middle class drawn from several countries - with a huge presence from India, Pakistan, Lebanon and surrounding nations; drawn by no income tax and an aim to repatriate most of their earnings back home. They live in relatively modest accomodations, sometimes with multiple families living together - the rents being sky high to afford some privacy for themselves. But the worst of the lot is the one that comes right at the bottom - the labor class. They are here sweltering in the heat in the hope of being able to save up for their family back home. The ignorance and illeteracy makes them targets of exploitation from time to time. In this place your position and role in the pecking order is well defined - and you dare not risk trying to do so. I will have to admit that this was one of the few things I found quite difficult to digest, since I have been raised to treat each and every person with dignity irrespective of their race, creed or status - and this very discrimination seemed to be institutionalized and justified by many.One thing that does unite all the people irrespective of race, language, religon is the love for shopping.... well, I would be led to believe if you don't like shopping - then maybe, just maybe Dubai isn't quite the place for you. Go on any day, morning, evening or night and you will see all the malls packed with people. The situation becomes absolutely chaotic over the weekends with 'extended' hours to mid-night. Many people prefer to spend their weekend 'outings' well - going out on shopping trips. Don't get me wrong, if you like this activity - then you need not consider any place beyond Dubai to indulge yourself. You have every conceivable brand from all over the world converged to the multiple malls that dot the landscape. The malls themselves can be considered to be mini-cities with multiple themes (try Egypt, India, Iran, Turkish, Florence for starters) and possibly all that you would want ..... did anyone say ski... yup, that's also there.... along with opera singers and circuses all under the same roof. Mercifully for me there were a few other activities which like minded folks who shy away from the malls can undertake, two of which deserve special mention... cause I tried them out. One is quad-biking over the dunes... sans protective gear! Bloody dangerous you would think.... bloody fun I would say. Only recommendation is go during the cooler part of the day (decide what that is depending upon the time of the year) otherwise the sand well - wouldn't be too much fun. And the other is - scuba diving. Part of Dubai's attraction is that well, if it ain't there we will build it. So they may not have coral reefs at present, but they have sunk one tanker and are in the process of sinking an Airbus A330 with some added limestone for good measure to 'attract' the coral. Should be interesting hunting grounds for sure.... And if you are serious about this - consider the PADI dive center at the Jumeriah Beach Hotel for dives and for certification, if you are lucky you will get Elena to teach you. What you end up getting is a terrific lassie with a Russian humor, and a brilliant instructor. I stand as testiment to this - for now I have a diving license and have had a few thoroughly enjoyable experiences in the ocean..... and yet am a mediocre swimmer at best! oooh, that was so much fun!!!!Coming back to cultural aspects inspite of being an Islamic state I would have to agree with the majority that Dubai is the most liberal that exists. However there still are a few 'broad guidelines' which need to be lived by. For example - alcohol here is only available at the major hotels which makes it pretty darn expensive. On the flip side they allow 4 liters of alcohol per individual at the airport and pretty much everyone makes a trip to the Duty Free before heading out. That brings me to an interesting aspect of this state - that of state exerted 'moral authority' which I am not sure what to make out. For example if you are a Muslim you are not permitted to buy alcohol. Gambling is forbidden in the country. Rumors abound that when the Burg Al Arab hotel was built, initial plans called it to be positioned off the coast so that it could technically qualify as being outside an Islamic state and hence be permitted to conduct casino style operations. When there was a disinclination to consider as such, it the builders pointed out to the astronomical cost incurred during construction - rumored to be close to $1 billion. From heresay I was given to understand that at this argument a check was handed over which effectively silenced the issue. On the same breadth it must be said that several websites (and I don't mean only porn) are unavailable since they conflit with the 'moral and religous' ideals of the U.A.E. What puzzles me is that if this is the case how come you have so many women working in the 'service' industry here which doesn't seem to be terribly hidden away under the carpet? In someways I sensed a bit of hypocrisy.... but well, I could say the same for many other states - both in the western and eastern world.I arrived here at a time when most people who can afford it prefer to flee the country for cooler climes. Most days by 08:00 the temperature is well above 40C and on most occasions it is terribly humid. What interested me was the fact that from dawn to dusk the air seemed to be blanketed by smog, possibly caused due to the construction, mixed with sand and water. This was so bad that you could not discern even prominent landmarks such as the Burj Al Arab in the horizon. I wonder a bit what is the use to construct such high buildings when if you looked outside you couldn't see a thing; maybe this a something that changes during the cooler period of the year... maybe we will get an opportunity to experience the same.Now that I am leaving Dubai, I am left with conflicting thoughts about whether I would like to come back. Of course the fast paced lifestyle, and the availability of everything (for a price of course), along with the proximity to home is an attraction. On the otherhand the artificial nature of life that I experienced, the lack of the trees and mountains which I absolutely adore and the cooler climes that I enjoy have made me stop and think about it. If you ever decide to come and live in the Middle-east there this is the price that must be paid.... and I guess it all depends which of those you can live with, and those which you cannot do without.

The art of time-keeping :-)

2008-08-19T03:46:00.003-04:00

Maniana Maniana .....One of the coolest things which I love about my job is the opportunity to travel and see different exotic destinations and interact with people of various cultures, races and religions. Of course, one of the key elements of enjoying the experience is to have a very open mind... and although for the most part it is great - well sometimes you feel like pulling your hair apart. This brings me to the topic of this missive - that of establishing a time frame to meet. When I grew up in India my folks made me follow a pretty regimental schedule but we used to always refer Indian Standard Time (IST) as Indian Stretchable Time. If you would ask someone to meet you would always get the reply 'sure.... we meet later'.... which said ... well - nothing. No wonder until the time India got onto the IT bandwagon and began aping the west - we were always stuck in a quagmire of expecting to do stuff at an 'unknown' future point in time. But if I thought that this was restricted to India.... well I was badly mistaken.In Latin America they have the saying 'maniana, maniana' when queried on when a particular job will be done. This literally translates to somewhere in the future. If you ever try to be more specific more than often you will get a wry smile in return. I was given to understand that this was such a problem in Peru that the government instructed the mayors of towns to install clocks in every village since it was totally ruining order required for businesses to operate and prosper..... In the Caribbean, especially due to its laid back attitude this takes gargantuan proportions. To be sure, it a gorgeous place to be - like no other. If you want to go there, just leave your watch behind and operate on your own internal clock. Unfortunately for me, I visited the place on work - which seemed to contradict the 'chilled - easy going attitude' that people were accustomed to. Interestingly enough, I did get to query one of the locals about this whole affair - wasn't it adversely affecting the 'efficiency' at which the country was operating at? All it needed was a bit of discipline to get things in shape. However - the answer I got was unexpected - and have to admit, thought-provoking. In the typical lazy style he smiled at me and replied, 'people come to the Caribbean to have a good time, to unwind, to relax and rejuvenate themselves. We encourage them to do so - and for that its best you operate 'a la naturale' rather than by clockwork. That's the best way to recover from the stresses of your '1st world existence'...... I have to admit, a very strong argument there ;-).In the middle East it takes more of the Arabic flavor and if you want to meet the next day you would most likely get the response.. 'tomorrow, Inshallah' - literally translated to 'tomorrow - God willing'!!! This was so apparent that in one case when a individual (who obviously had not been sensitized to the cultural aspects of the region) was given an appointment the next day he turned back and said - 'does tomorrow mean - tomorrow or "tomorrow Inshallah"' :-)In someways I think this concept is different from country to country... culture to culture. While states like Germany, Switzerland love the safety of regimental time-keeping to keep their systems running, on the other extreme you have the cultures like the Caribbean where a laisse-faire attitude seems to reign supreme. Maybe the business minded would prefer the clockwork time-schedule, but if you are up for it - there certainly is a bit of charm going to a country and operating in a totally different 'time environment'.... Happy Traveling!!!

From good to 'wurst'!

2007-11-09T19:53:00.000-05:00

Well, if I were offered an ideal job it would be combining that of Ian Wright, Antony Bourdain and Russell Brice all in one. In that way I would be able to travel to all crazy destinations, eat local 'read as interesting' cuisine and climb all the high mountains while I am at it. It was no different in Germany and I totally dived into trying to sample all what I considered to be interesting food.

One food which seems to be staple wherever you are in Germany is the ubiquitous 'wurst' - there is Bratwurst, Currywurst and God alone knows how many different types of sausage found in the country. And when I talk about sausage it is not the wimpy kind you get in the US - these things are 'ginormous'; one is more that enough to fill you up. In a way you could call this fast food - German style.
A traditional meal seems to include bread and meat; vegetables seem to be skewed towards the simple potato. Just as they have over 50 different types of bread I have tasted and sampled over 50 different kinds of potato. Friend potato, baked potato, stewed potato, mashed potato - you name it and its part of the German cuisine.
And yes, the meat; mainly rind (beef) and schwein (pig) seem to be part of the staple diet. One of my common preferences was schnitzel - basically meat fried in batter with a mushroom sauce on top. But if I was to choose my favorite - then it would be Knödel. I have to thank Stephan and Wiebke for suggesting this when we were hiking in Austria. If you are tired and cold, then this is the food for you. Warm soup and dumpling is so good that you forget the calorie count associated with it.

Knödel

And as for dessert, well you have the cakes for sure, but what I loved was applestrudel umm mmmm mmm. Add an expresso and you are done.
However, no discussion about Germany would be complete without beer. They love beer, and consume copious amounts of it. And with such good refreshing quality, I certainly do not doubt them for it!. While Köln is famous for its Kölsch served in 0.2l glasses, Munich has its 'maas' served in a 1 liter mug! Drink it down with some radish along with pretzels and it all goes down smoothly. Beer is so common, it is definitely cheaper than water. (As an aside, water is typically drunk gassed - with fizz.) But beer is not the only good spirit floating around - some super wine is also available; and if you arrive at the right time you should try 'fede-wieser' - the new wine. I loved it! Add some jaegermiester or Kirschwasser to the mix and maybe it explains why the German's are so jovial in the evenings ;-).

Nothing better than with a chilled beer and some friends

Just as my German friends introduced me to their food, I too was determined to share a bit of my cuisine. Accordingly, we all got together one nice summer evening and cooked up a meal for all of them. It was a combined effort from all and the outcome was certainly very interesting. Side-effects did include a full stomach after a five course meal and a garlic breadth to kill all but the strongest vampire:-).

Bernd with his tandoori chicken

Breezing through Brussels

2007-11-04T07:33:00.000-05:00

What does one do if you get up one early morning in Bonn, the sky is clear and the road is wide open ..... well you go on a long drive of course, the old girl needs a few high revvs and top speed on occasion to stretch her legs a bit. Obviously, you can go in a big circle and arrive exactly where you began; but on the other hand you can mix it up a bit and you have caught the traveling bug - you simply head out West like the pioneers of yore. That's exactly what my good friend Bernd and I did one morning and landed up in Brussels - the capital of Belgium.

First, lets get the name straight - although Brussels may be the English nomenclature, I certainly think that Bruxelles (thats what the French call it) sounds a tad bit more chic - what do you think?

The journey from Bonn to Brussels is unremarkable apart from the fact that on occasion when traveling at 200 kmph and feeling a bit pleased with yourself you are overtaken by a train zipping past you at perhaps 300 kmph; and oh yes the fact that you know that you have left Germany when the signs appear all in English and the speed limits force you to potter around at 120 kmph!
By the time we arrived it was still quite early in the morning with most of the places shuttered up forcing us to walk around a bit to orient ourselves. Walking around from one 'Rue' to the other we chanced upon the evangelical church of St Catherine which seemed to possibly be the only place open at that hour.

The church of St. Catherine

Although potentially a remarkable piece of construction in its day and still very functional it seemed to wallowing in a state of neglect and disrepair. However the time spent around the church (which is also the location of a fish market) gave an opportunity to read a bit about the history of Brussels - on how it is a pretty young country having been annexed throughout history by one large kingdom after the other.
We pottered around a bit through one tiny alley after another trying to find a nice spot to grab some breakfast, and with some assistance from a guidebook headed towards the Großmarkt which was in the heart of the city. On the way we passed through the glass canopied Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert which was the world's first shopping mall when it opened in 1847. It would be the equivalent of 5th Avenue in NYC or Mayfair in London - filled with boutiques showcasing the best in designer goods. I couldn't afford to shop, but well definitely stopped to look around and admire the architecture of this glass and wrought iron marvel.

Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert

Next was definitely a breakfast at one of the cafe's that lined the market. Very French indeed, just a basic croissant and coffee. I think that is one of the key to the French lithe figure - minimalistic food; just that they are excellent in the marketing department - so that same food becomes gourmet cuisine that costs a bomb!

Breakfast at Großmarkt

But now we had our fill and the city was starting to wake up it was time to explore our environs. First stop was the Grand Palace. If there was any place in Brussels which could be considered as ground zero this was it. Typical of all the big plazas that time this courtyard too had the Rathaus where city councilors would meet to discuss the affairs of the state. However what I did find a bit unique was the absence of any prominent religious structures; I was quite acquainted in finding a cathedral in and around the main plaza, but in this case it seemed to be absent. However the gilded Rathaus and the Grand Palace were no less in pomp and circumstance, adorned with ornate sculptures of the royalty and important citizens of the period. Another interesting observation was that some of the figures appeared to have been decapitated - perhaps the flesh and blood version had fallen out of favor with the powers who ruled....
But one thing was for sure, the merchant nobles who ruled this place were anything but poor; it was now becoming clearer why this small piece of territory had been hotly contested through the centuries. The wealth concentrated in this region from trading had attracted whoever had been in the hot-seat of European power during the time making this the proverbial 'golden goose'.

Grand Palace

Wandering through its maze of alley's brought us to past the magnificent bourse (I would not have expected anything less) to the Church of St. Nicholas (patron saint of traders) sitting askew in the corner of a street. One of the oldest churches in Brussels it is the resting place of the relics of the 'martyrs of Gorkhum' from the 16th century during the tribulations between the Catholics and Protestants in the region. Although being nearly destroyed several times over it still retains a air of it's proud and ancient past when it held sway over life in the city.

one of the martyr's of Gorkhum

Now it was on to one of the favorite tourist haunts - that of 'Manneken Pis'. For such a small statue with uncertain origins, it sure does demand a large audience. Well, if out of curiosity if not anything else we too did the customary trip to see this odd curio - and since he wasn't being 'dressed up' on that day..... well there is only that much one can be fascinated about a statue of a urinating toddler!

The famous 'Manneken Pis'

Now the stomach was rumbling a bit and it was high time to grab some good food. And in this sea faring state that meant a delicious meal of mussels with some fries. As a quick side note - French fries were invented in Belgium, and for sure the Belgians got it spot on, even till this date. The numerous outdoor cafe's and nice balmy weather made grabbing a nice cozy spot in one of the numerous bustling cobbled streets contributed to the ever so interesting sport of people watching while digging in through the mussels which had been prepared in wine.

a Bucket of Mussels and fries - washed down with some wine...

After a leisurely lunch and some coffee we finally coaxed ourselves to get out of our reverie and head back out to do some more exploring. Moving from the inner heart of the city we moved toward the other side where the royal palace was situated. But first we stopped to see the St. Michael and st. Gudula Cathedral which sat on higher ground and commanded quite a view of the city. The cathedral itself is one of the prettiest I have seen, both inside and out. The towering columns along with ample use of stained glass results in a cacophony of light all around the interiors. As for the exterior, beautiful as it is - on first glance it did remind me of Castle Grayskull from the 'He-man' series!

Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula

By now it was close to 16:00 and we kept pace with our small itinerary, strolling along the palace gardens, the royal palace and the court. A bit of rain kept pace with us which prevented the luxury of trying some good photo shots; however on the positive side - played a role in getting us moving on. However, a visitor to Brussels cannot leave without one thing - and that is to pick up a box of chocolate; cause chocolate is to Brussels what high fashion is to Milan. You cannot say you have been there done that if you do not cater to this basic of all indulgences - and it does not get much better than Pierre Marcolini. Expensive... maybe so, but well - how many times does one visit Brussels!
We had one more stop before we headed home - and that was at the Atomium. Absolutely cool design - seemingly out of place amidst the old town feeling of Brussels - but interesting none the less.

Atomium

As we sped back, I tried to look back over the sights and spots that we had seen. Here was a place not too far from Bonn, yet so different in culture, architecture and tradition. It had been - quite an interesting experience; and thanks Bernd - I do owe you one for that!

Seduced in the Stubai

2007-10-27T18:05:00.000-04:00

It was a nice, clear, warm starry Thursday night; and if you were in Bonn that pretty much meant that you would be at the Haus Bar. As usual I joined my good friend Stephan and we headed out there for some good company, live music and drinks. Today we were celebrating Stephan's completion of his studies and were joined by a few colleagues; always a case of more the merrier. The conversation as always centered around plans for the weekend; in that respect I think humankind is universal - we all live for our weekends!

There was Stephan, a broad Berliner with a ever present twinkle in his eye; Wiebke, a lovely lass from Gummersbach; Yelena, the cheerful girl from Uzbekistan - if there was something common between us it would be a love for the outdoors and a pinch of what I can only call 'explorer's insanity'. One of my hidden agenda's for coming to Germany was to do some hiking in the Alps, but soon after reaching Bonn I realized that although the Alps were in Germany it seemed that I was on the wrong side of the country for that kind of activity! However, one can always hope and I had never given up the desire to head to the hills.
I had broached the subject to others before but given the distance and other commitments it seemed like a lost case. But when asked what I wanted to do, half heartedly it again came out as - let's head to the hills. The only difference was the answer - 'hmmmm, why not; how about the following weekend'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not sure if it was the effect of the alcohol on sane reasoning or a shared passion - but yes; we were sure as hell going to the Alps.
Logistically it was quite simple. Stephan very gamely offered to drive the 750km (one way), Wiebke with her experience of the Alps would plan the trip, and Yelena and myself would provide the company. To round off the quartet, Stephan's girlfriend Candy would fly in from Berlin to Munich and join us. AWESOME!
The location Wiebke had chosen was in the Tirol region in Austria, home to the Stubai Alps. The Alps rise on both sides of the narrow Stubai valley culminating in the Stubaier Gletscher making it a veritable trekker's and skiers' paradise. It sure was a long drive but we finally did make it crossing into Austria via Innsbruck and headed to our destination.
After a nice simple pizza dinner downed with Rädler at a small bed&breakfast in Ranalt - basically beer with lemonade (very very refreshing) we called it a night - tomorrow was going to be a long day and I think we could do with some good sleep. Before hitting the sack, it was the customary excited call to my folks back in India about the planned trip. My poor mum, bless her soul, has had to deal with these type of calls all her life - probably heading to the church the next day to pray either for safe deliverance from any trip or more likely for some divine input of sanity to her offspring :-).

The start (from L-R) me, Wiebke, Yelena, Stephan and Candy

Next day after a hearty frühstückte (breakfast) we were ready to hit the road (~08:30). A short drive weaving in and around the curves brought us to the trail head. Spirits were as high as the sun , and amidst a background of the snow capped peaks we set off, picking our way through the trail cutting through the coniferous tree line. The incline was a steady one, albeit not steep and I took time to snap a few photographs as we ascended, both of our group and also of the ever changing scenery. I am not too sure as to why people climb, if you asked me there would be no clear straight shot answer. All I know is that somewhere deep down within me I realize a sense of contentment which no other activity can provide. I cannot and do not try to rationalize with this feeling, but its just like an addiction which I cannot go without for an extended period of time.

We had just cleared the tree-line at this point a made a short stop

Finally after around an hour and half we finally ascended beyond the tree-line and took a short break to take a quick snack and take in the views from a hilly outcropping which overlooked the valley. We now walked alongside an alpine rivulet which gushed and gurgled as it flowed down the hills to the valley. But this sound was dwarfed by a distant roar of a waterfall which emerged into view as we trudged into a valley hidden by the hills. The only company seemed to be fellow hikers...... and a bull which took a special liking to Stephan.

Stephan and 'friend'.... note the waterfall and the hill in the background - thats where we were headed

From this point in the valley our first destination was visible just to the right of the huge waterfall - Sulzenauhütte at 2196m. Well, given that we were at ~1850m it didn't seem like a huge total distance.... but then again 300m of vertical ascent rarely translates to a similar horizontal distance; and we diligently set about the circuitous route.
This would serve as a nice backdrop of the abilities and personalities of our team. In the lead was Yelena, lithe and sure-footed as a mountain goat, with a demeanor and disposition of a fun loving Russian. Alternating in the lead was Wiebke, who seemed to excel in such environs, her vivaciousness adding to her charm. Then came the rest of us led by Stephan, a very cool, composed German with a chilled out attitude followed by Candy. Candy was the very woman's woman - the type you see on the business woman's magazine, the elegant types who would be comfortable in a boardroom; add to that a very friendly disposition and you have a good idea of the type of person I am talking about. And finally there was me, what I lacked in ability I made up in enthusiasm and rounded up the group. So here we were - five quite different people brought together by a love for the outdoors.

Sulzenau hutte - our lunch halt

We managed to reach our first halt at around 12:30, the hütte perched on a pass with spectacular views of the Alps on both sides. It was also our pit-stop for lunch. And since we were in Austria, and I was starving it made for the perfect setting to experiment. On Wiebke's advice, I chose Knödel, essentially dumplings of ham and cheese in warm soup. Add a glass of beer to that on a warm afternoon - its a perfect recipe for a follow-on siesta. But we had ways to go, so slung on the backpacks and resumed.

If there would be one picture that illustrated our state of mind - this would be close to it

Now the landscape had now changed reflecting the rugged fauna which dominated the region. We were now walking in the shadow of Wilder Freiger (3418m) which was one of the dominant peaks in the region. What was very evident was the decline in the glaciated region over time. Fifty years ago, where we stood would be permanently snowbound, but now the glacier had receded to near the peaks themselves. The starkness of the landscape had a strange sense of beauty to it, and I couldn't help but occasionally stop and look back to take in the scene.

Alpine scrubland

We did take occasional stops, by a clear river to stretch our legs and another time by a perfectly still glacial lake formed from the glacier runoff. It was a clear warm day, the views were from a picture book and I was amidst friends - not sure if I would have even have wanted it any better.

what better backdrop than an Alpine glacial lake!

It was finally up to a 250m scramble up over a vantage point to begin our climb down to our night-stop. This would also be the highest point on our hike, after this it would be all the way down. We had an option, either take the winding path or just try a 40-50 degree incline over loose rock. Wiebke with her wisdom chose the former, the rest of us either with a false sense of bravado, or a naive underestimation of what that meant opted for the former. On hindsight, it was a stupid thing to do cause when you have a unwieldy backpack you are not the fastest or the most lithe creature around.

piece of cake - hold the cable and scramble!

But in the end we all made it using the fixed cable, and some pluck to clamber up and hoist ourselves next to a cross erected by travelers across this path in memoriam of some hapless folks who slipped and fell to their death. In a way the cross was a silent reminder - that Someone was possibly watching over us......

Alpha point - from now on it would be all the way down

Now clutching the cable we started making our way down. The cable was essential in places, and I wondered about the difficulty in making such a passage in bad weather - it sure would have been tricky given the exposed nature of the descent. In addition, I think I had twisted my knee a bit and began to fall back a bit, taking slow and deliberate steps to ease off on the injured limb. Stephan was kind enough to stop now and again to check on me to guide me through the more difficult sections. On occasion the pain was sharp and shooting, during the rest it resembled more of a dull numbing sort of pain. However, what could I do except focus on reaching the next stop! It is in these circumstances that I thank my stars for a passion to undertake this sport - cause the thrill and adrenaline rush to just be out there compensates for all the pain that one may have to endure.... sounds crazy - and I guess that's exactly what it is.

Nürnbergerhütte in the distance - our night halt

However it was a relief to reach our halt for the night Nürnbergerhütte (2280 m). This 92 year old place of refuge commands a superb panoramic view of the Stubai alps from its 'sun terrace' and offers basic food and lodging - exactly what a weary traveler would need. After checking in to our 16 bunk bed dorm room we savored our day's experience over a bottle of wine. It would be a quick dinner before we would head to bed. A sound sleep felt good, except that I felt so grimy I decided that the ideal way to do it would be to feel scrubbed and clean and decided to have a shower - a stupid idea. Consider the fact - the water had not been heated, and essentially was coming right from a glacier so it would be very possible that it was close to freezing. Needless to say it was the quickest bath of my life, accompanied with rigorous scrubbing or rattling of my own skeleton as my body was shocked as the icy water hit me. All I remember were three German's staring incredulously at me when I made my exit, and Wiebke's laughter ringing through the room as I dived into cover of my sleeping bag. Just to rub it in, heated water was available the next day with Stephan having the pleasure of a nice warm shower. Well - it certainly was an experience!

next morning - the hill in the background is what we had crossed the previous day

Next day after breakfast we began our descent into the valley below, wading our way through small herds of goat whose bleating echoed through the hills. Walking alongside a gushing stream on the way back to our car I reminisced on the trip; the beautiful vistas that I had seen, the camaraderie that we had shared and the simple, unspoilt joys that we had all experienced. The crisp mountain air, the crystal clear icy water from the glacier, the whistling of the bush as the wind whipped around .... for a time I had been in enchanted lands, truly seduced ... by the Stubaital.

After a hard days work what better way to relax then with some beer and good company

Who - or what is a German.....

2007-10-21T19:58:00.001-04:00

'Different faces of a German'

This image may conjure up different pictures for different people. Some drawn from the incidents this past century, most I dare say admit comes from the media. What I experienced during my time there was quite different, contrary to my initial expectations.
As a colleague once succinctly put it - the typical German is like a coconut, cold and unfriendly on the outside but when you get to know him better you would always be welcome in his midst This is true in many instances. So although they may be a bit more formal that their southern neighbors but in no small way are they a boring people. German's love.... and I mean LOVE to have a good time. Think Ocktoberfest when you think about German attitude, and you wouldn't be too far from the truth. During my time there seemed to be festive events every other week - and at each event the whole place was packed; and it wasn't just the younger generation, but everyone from the young to the old seemed to want to come out and enjoy the festivities.
Given that fact - the average German is not a spendthrift but is quite cautious on where and on what he spends his money. When a house is built it is built out of solid brick and built to last a century. Although this results in prices which would break a wallet - the German considers everything in light of the time-period for which he will own his asset, and the joy it brings him. Therefore its is quite common for people to rent apartment's all their life until they have decided to live in a particular place - and then go in to buy a house. A direct result of this is a savings rate of close to 11% - quite a few percentage points higher than the US. This I suspect has some origins in the hardship the people have experienced over the last century which urges caution over reckless spending.
A personal attribute which I often came across was the relative modesty of the people. I think the best example of this attitude to understate things were the cars - take the BMW for example. In USA people take immense pride in the exact model of the car i.e. a 525 is different from an 535 etc, and make doubly sure that the model number is prominently present. However this seems to be a bit out of place in Germany and is rarely seen - it is uncommon to see a lot of 'bling' or personalization (think 20 inch rims etc.) on cars. This extends towards the very low-key 'patriotic spirit' that prevails in Germany. You would never find as much as a flag post with the national flag on doorsteps - that seems to be the exclusive realm of the government ministries. In fact I was given to understand, that the first time this sense of national pride was overtly expressed in over half a century was during the recently concluded football World Cup in 2006. I realize this is due to the events of World War II, an event where a sense of nationalistic pride resulted in sections of the population supporting a regime which sponsored a genocide. This sense of complicity has resulted in a general wariness for any such 'flag waving' - the passage of time has not completely erased the past.
Another facet of their persona is to be very upright and direct about most matters. Such a direct attitude can be however a bit unnerving at present, but over my time spent in Germany I have come to appreciate and respect this attitude. The fact that you would rather have a person tell you upfront if he/ she finds something amiss rather than being diplomatic is quite relieving - and avoids any sense of misunderstanding. This attitude is quite opposite to what you experience in USA, and could contribute to the image of the pedagogical German.
However if this would make you to think that Germans are only one type of people - think again. Remember - they are descendants of the Germanic tribes - not 'a' single tribe. The people from Bavaria are a culture apart from the folks of North-west Rhinephalia, the north, south, east and west - all have their distinct cultures and traditions. Add to this a large Turkish population (and accompanying culinary subculture) in and around Bonn and a sizable Japanese populace in Dusseldorf (offices of every second Japanese company I know) and then you have quite an interesting mix of people.
On a side note I did realize something about the German Turks. Looking in the past I come to realize that the huge influx of the Turks into Germany was part of the industrial rebuilding process after the war. Most of those who came were from the economically lower classes, migrating at an opportunity to have a better life. As with many ethnic minorities they preferred to live a bit isolated from the rest of the population, and live a similar existence just as they had done in their native Turkey. Over the past thirty-forty years both Turkey and German have become rapidly westernized, both in thought and mannerisms - and nowadays some of these people, many of whom came from conservative backgrounds (the intelligentsia were prosperous and content enough not to migrate) now feel a bit alienated in their country of residence. They are not able to associate and accept the present culture in Germany while at the same time feel out of place in a modern, urban suave Turkey - the country of their origin. I think this catch 22 situation of being in 'no-man's' land is present all over the world and will continue to increase as different countries coalesce into one big market place. Would people be able to retain and celebrate their diversity and traditions in such an environment - I guess that question any one's guess.
Speaking of the German's as a population, I also realized that one of the government's biggest headaches at present is their declining birth-rates which does not bode well for a system which is already straining a bit on its generous social benefits. This seems to be in line with an ever increasing age for marriage, although there is a growing trend for live-in relationships. Oddly enough, this did not translate directly into what people seemed to yearn for - many of whom I met were looking for some form of stability in their lives. I will admit, that this may stem from a different thought process that I am not able to easily relate to and takes some time to understand.
This seems quite a ramble about a people; but it all boils down to one thing - Germans are a very friendly people, they love to travel and many are quite wise about the happenings in the world. They may seem boring at first, but it certainly does not mean that they do not have things to talk about and share with you - as my good friend Stefan put it so well - 'the media has given this stern image, and well - we have to put on a facade and try our level best to live up to its expectations'!

Pottering about Bonn, Germany

2007-10-21T18:53:00.000-04:00

If I could choose a lifestyle today, then perhaps it would be that of a aimless wanderer, trudging across cities and continents, never too long in one place. At every rest stop a cheerful greeting, a few acquaintances made and an appreciation of what each place - large or small, has to offer.
Although I may not be there yet, as fate may have it my current occupation does allow extended sojourns to different lands where you do get a chance to live among locals and experience 'normal' life at a level a tourist could never hope of achieving. This, and the blog-posts to follow come from Germany and a few of its neighbors where I spent a lovely summer.
Let me start with the place I called home - Bonn. A small city, no - a town whose claim to fame was that it was selected to be a stop-gap capital for one of Europe's biggest economies until the Berlin wall came crashing down. I still remember the time not too long ago when there were two Germany's - the GDR and the FRG with Bonn as it's capital. Now coming from one of the worlds most populous country, the definition of capital indicated a huge sprawling metropolis spread over a vast area, a sign of power and might. So when I finally made it from Köln to Bonn - it certainly seemed as if I was moving from the city to the countryside rather than vice-versa.

So essentially, that is what Bonn is, a quiet sleepy university town on the banks of the Rhine. Now that the seat of the government has returned to Berlin it seems content returning to its position of relative insignificance from which it was thrust into the limelight over half a century ago. Now, there is a reason why Bonn was chosen to be the capital rather than the other larger cities in Germany such as Munich, Hamburg or Frankfurt. In talking to the locals I got the idea that all Germans always considered Berlin to be the true capital and the division as a temporary albeit painful time in their country's history. If, during this hiatus - the capital was assigned to one of the major cities then there was the fear that it would be far more difficult for Berlin to regain its position when unification would take place. Bonn, on the other hand with its mainly academic population centered around a university seemed to fit the bill. Additionally, it was within an hours of driving distance from its western neighbors - an important consideration during the cold war.

Beethoven staring down at us

Present day Bonn is marketed as the birthplace of Beethoven and the town trumpets it hometown hero with a music festival each year in September. You can go for Beethoven walks - touring everything from the house where he was born, the church where he began his formative years with the organ to the place where his mother is buried. All this is concentrated in the Allstadt or 'old town' area with its quaint cobblestone walk-ways and wide plazas which to this date serve as a functional market place catering to the locals every evening. In terms of professional employment it seems that there are two major players - Deustche Post and Deutsche Telekom. These organizations are so big that Telekom has two railway stops to itself and runs a train known as the Telekom Express. The departure of the government is gradually being filled in by the United Nations, making this town of ~300,000 people a culturally diverse and a city with its arms open to welcome well qualified people to drive its urban renewal.
In terms of architectural wonders themselves I guess I will have to admit that there isnt anything spectacular to see - apart from the cathedral in the heart of the city, the Kurfuerstliches Schloss (which is now part of the university) and a couple of forts such as the Godesburg Fortress just outside Bonn. However, the governments past and present patronage (some as restitution since Bonn lost a large number of jobs due to the shift in government) has also resulted in a Museum mile - with museum after museum catering to different tastes. I did visit a few, however favorites remain the Arithmeum - which showcases computing milestones (mechanical computers to silicon chips) over the ages and the Haus der Geschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Museum of the History of the Federal Republic of Germany). Mind you, to visit the latter you would be better off knowing German - all the placards next to exhibit are not bilingual! One sad but interesting detail are the photographs highlighting the fire-bombing during WWII. Many of Germany's cities and historic sites were silent victims of these raids, so its not uncommon to note that many of the important cities do not have too many intact architectural monuments compared to their European neighbors. Additionally the people had to bear severe hardships after the war as they came to grips with the widespread devastation. Such is the cruel nature of war. Hats off to the resilience of the German people who have been able to rebuild their nation to an economic and political power within a few decades.
But if there isnt much to do within Bonn - there is certainly plenty to do around it!
Cologne (Köln to the locals) is just a 20 minute drive with its vibrant atmosphere capped by the world famous Dom and the crisp Kolsch. If you are seeking nightlife - you certainly do not need to look further. Cologne competes with Berlin for the party capital of Germany. It is the city of the Carnival in February and Köln Lichther (Köln lights) with public participation topping a million people!

Köln Lichter - with 800,000 other people and the Dom in the background

It is a city which never seems to sleep - and the party is on every night..... and yes - I do mean every-night. Do not intend to say that Bonn does not have its interesting spots with Haus Bar among my favorites for its live music on Thursday nights.... but Köln is certainly in a different league altogether.... Thanks to Bernd, Hilmar, Wolfgang and not to forget Mirjam for introducing me to the fun side of life!
If partying is not your cup of cake - you could consider hiking; then the Drachenfels or Rolandsborgen could be just up your alley. The former - yes, with a dragon as its namesake is often regarded as the highest mountain in Holland - given the number of Dutch coming to see an elevated place from the flat lands of the Netherlands. A clear day rewards you with views reaching Köln - with the Dom in the distance. It is also the home to a rich industrialists nutty castle - never quite finished.... serves to remind you what too much money without a clue on how to spend it can do to a person. Rolandsborgen sits on the opposite side of the river and is on the rampart of an old Roman fort overlooking a monastery on an island. An easy walk to the top brings you to a cafeteria where you can indulge in cake and coffee and soak in the sunshine.

Rolandsborgan with Bernd

And if physical work is not your thing, you can always indulge in a favorite German passion - driving. The land of BMW, Mercedes and Porsche offers you one of the best driving experiences anywhere. You are rarely limited by your car, but more by your own ability. And I do not only mean the autobahn which curve all across Germany but also the back-country roads which weave and wind their way through picturesque villages.

'pitstop during a drive :-)'

Such a drive is to be experienced in the Aa valley with a gentle undulating landscape dotted with vineyards and small towns which seem to be right out of a Hans-Christian Anderson fairytale. If you were the technically inclined, you could also find the radio telescope at Effelsburg here, a monstrosity over 100m in diameter or the radar station with its huge dome built to track the Eastern bloc threats during the cold war.

The Effelsburg telescope

And if that isnt enough the 'Nürburgring' track can quell all your need for speed. Have some moolah to burn - then try getting Sabine Schmitz to drive you around the legendary Nordschleife in the BMW M5 Taxi or use the Zakspeed viper....

'The viper' whipping around the 'Ring'

All in all, whats not to love about Bonn.... not too big to be lost, not too small to be bored. I lived here for three months, and it kind of grew on me a bit. I was sorry to leave it, and certainly hope to return in the not to distant future to see what more it has in store for me.

A cry of anguish....

2007-10-08T18:09:00.000-04:00

'I have lost my baby - the doctor said that she couldn't detect any heartbeat.. and I do not know what to do'...... for a moment all speech escaped me, and an eerie silence seemed to encompass my room. At the other end of the line was my one and only sister who for seven long months had been proudly bearing a child in her womb. All the dreams and hopes fostered by two families seemed to have come crashing down in one single instant.
Something deep within me yearned to reach out and hold my sister tight, to try and find some glimmer of hope which would wash away her sorrow but at that instance - there was nothing, absolutely nothing. I felt cheated, robbed of happiness which till that moment had seemed like a continuum in my life. I had never felt like this before, never-ever in my existence till then. I had always viewed death as an eventuality for everyone, but then why, oh why did life have to be snatched away before it even saw the light of the world.
I wondered, if the pain and sorrow of losing someone whom I had never seen, touched or heard would feel so heart-wrenching then what would be the state of the babe's poor parents. They may have been so eagerly looking forward to seeing their newborn emerge into the world in a few months, enveloping them and filling their lives with joy and happiness. All these days of longing and preparation- it seemed cruel that it should be snatched away in such fashion.
I guess it is in such trying times that faith must come to the rescue - for when everything seems to crumble around us we try and seek solace in the hope that someone bigger than us is watching over us. We may never have seen Him, we may never have known Him but possibly he too shares and understands our state of despondency. Maybe He has something better or greater in store for us; maybe it is a gentle reminder of the transient nature of our lives, and how we eke out our existence. I may never know, but when all hope seems to fail, faith must prevail to guide us through.
All I know is that one little, well-formed seven month old baby boy was perhaps so loved by God that perhaps he decided to keep him for a little while longer. And although we too would have longed to have him in our midst, this must wait awhile. I may never have known you little one, but this thing is for sure - you were much loved by all of us, and your parting has brought us all a little closer together. It made us realize how valuable life is, and how hard it feels to let go. For this, I thank you and will always remember you.

The uncle you never got to meet - Joseph

I am a leatherback turtle

2007-04-10T17:20:00.000-04:00

Yup, that's me... ain't I pretty

The lights in the horizon finally came into view as I came up for one last breadth. It had been a long journey from the cold water's of the around the Gulf of Maine where I had lived since my childhood, now it was time to come back home - to renew the never ending circle of life. It was time for the last push to the beach-head. As the land came rushing to me I vainly attempted to make maximum use of the incoming tide to gain as much traction as I could from the sea. From now on it would be a long and arduous walk up the beach, where a few years ago I was born, a struggling little turtle who scurried towards the safety of the ocean as soon as I emerged from my shell. At that moment, basic instinct for survival took over as I scampered along with my brothers and sisters to the sea. Many of us did not make this short trip, the birds of prey sweeping down from the sky took care of that. But at the moment it was altogether a different story. At 700 lbs in weight and at least 5 feet long (who said I was small) birds were, at best a distraction.
I inched myself onto the beach, patience was the key and procedure had to be followed. I looked around, my beady eyes scanning the landscape for a smooth bit of sand where I could build my nest. Through blurry vision I could also make out fuzzy shapes which were moving towards me from the light, shapes I had never encountered before. At last I found a spot, the temperature of the sand seemed just right and there was a sense of solitude, for now at least. I began the process of careful excavation of my nest. Oddly enough, although I had never done this before for some reason it seemed quite natural. Dig with one flipper, and pat down the sand with the other, scoop and pat, scoop and pat down I went, each time feeling for a stone or any obstruction that would hamper my attempt. Hey, I seem to be doing pretty well for a first timer, as I patted myself on the back - not bad at all.
Hmmm, what was that light, looking up and blinking at a reddish light that was shone towards me. I heard an excited chatter and the sound of footsteps shuffling along the sand. I dared not move, besides I was already halfway through the process and boy oh boy, was it tiring. If they wanted some space, there was lots of free space all along the beach - they could go someplace else - I had already established my claim to this one. Oddly enough, they didn't seem to do much, apart from stand in excited circles and speak in hushed voices. Were these the humans that I heard about - well if they were, then they didn't impress me one bit. Quite scrawny creatures I should say - no wonder the sharks preferred us to them.... humans were only preferred as one off appetizers... at least that was the word on the street. After a bit there was a lull in the conversation, I was nearing the end of my dig too. Carefully I started laying the eggs, oozing them out carefully as the plopped down in the soft sand. I was a bit apprehensive now - at my most vulnerable and had no where to go. I froze as one of the humans picked up my flipper, shining a light onto the eggs. Gosh, how could I protect my future offspring - I looked around but there was no solution lying about. As easily as the flipper was drawn aside, I felt him letting go and I breathed a sigh of relief. In a few moments, I was all done, adding a few more unfertilized eggs just for extra padding and food once the young ones hatched.

My precious baggage that night

Now I rested awhile, the effort of the struggle to climb high onto the sand and preparing the nest had taken its toll. I felt the humans feeling me all around, sigh... these days people have no respect for one's personal space. After a few moments, I began the final stage of burying the nest, shovelling sand back in and patting in down so it would stay nice and warm inside - just right for my young ones to develop. Hopefully, deep enough too, to prevent the marauding dogs from getting to it, we were critically endangered anyways, so tending on the side of caution was a never considered a waste of time. I then dragged myself up and down the sand a bit, to confuse the enemy - if they were going to attempt to get the eggs, well for one I sure wasn't going to make it any easier.
The final stage completed I looked around to smell the sea. The lure of the sea which long ago had beckoned me as a young turtle, once again welcomed me into its warm and secure embrace. I shuffled down to the shore, unburdened by the 100 eggs I had left behind accompanied by my prayers for their safe return. The wave came towards me and I dived right it.... it had been a long night.

Huvva Carib on me Mon - an insight into everday Trinidad

2007-04-08T15:58:00.000-04:00

This was my first trip to an island anywhere in the world - and I was truly excited the prospect of getting to understand the place, since I would be spending a month at a single location - giving me an ample opportunity to examine and possibly get an insider's view of what the place truly had to offer. At the end of it - although I may not have had the luxury of visiting all the beaches and tourist spots the experience was quite nice indeed. In order to make sense of everything I divide my trip to Trinidad into a few set of highlights

- people
- food
- music
As usual - they are my own observations, and I would like to share it with you.

African or Indian... all end up as Trini's

The people:
The people here are a quaint mix of African and Indians (mainly from the states of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar), possibly brought down 150 years ago by the British as indentured laborers to work the sugarcane plantations. The actual locals, the 'Caribs' are few and far between. Its no small wonder that names like Ramprakash are common names here - although oddly enough they are modified to be spelled out similar to how they would have been pronounced by the near illiterate laborers who were brought here, at least thats my theory. Thats why you will see the an Indian 'Ramprasad' now is 'Rampersad' - its the way it would have been pronounced in the 'pahadi' (particular region in the foot-hills of the Himalayas in India) Hindi.
The Indian community has been amazingly able to maintain their tradition and celebrate traditional festivals like Holi, Diwali with great fanfare and gusto. Every month there are Indian handicraft festivals all around the place - apparently earlier it was twice a year, but now its every month to meet an un-satiated demand. Its also that that the Indian diaspora (well known as Trini-indians) also seem quite a bit more wealthier than their African counterparts - so guess there is a lot of money floating around. Just as an aside - most of the money in Trinidad comes from oil, the country lying just off the coast of Venezuela explains a lot of thing, and its the richest of the Caribbean nations. That apart - the government is the biggest employer engaging, directly or indirectly at least 60% of the workforce.
Similarly the political system is also divided among racial lines - but from a daily glance through the papers, is as good as India's ... where the parties rotate every 4-5 years and the only agenda seems to be lining their pockets while filing lawsuit after lawsuit against the other party. Certainly helps keep the newspapers in business for sure!
There also seems to be quite a large disparity in wealth - and commodities certainly are very expensive, even more than the United States. This was all very strange to me, since I used to consider Trinidad on similar lines as India, where although there is income disparity many commodities are affordable to all.
But rich or poor, one thing that stood out among all the people was the warmth and friendliness shown by all. It wasn't the kind of artificial pretense that sometimes prevails in the 'first world' but the genuine show of affection and welcoming that I experienced everywhere I went. No wonder, you can never leave anywhere without having a 'lime' - the word akin to our 'chilling out' or siesta. Of course, this also results in abysmal productivity since liming is part and parcel of everyday life.... not that I was complaining either :-) Another aspect which is common irrespective of the race that you came from was the language - officially english, but spoken in a sing-song manner that initially was very difficult to comprehend. The initial few days was spent by saying 'no' to many things - partially because I never could figure out what was being asked in the first place!

The ubiquitous 'doubles'

Food
Food is most definitely a topic quite close to my heart. I am a firm believer that of all the stuff that one would like to experience in a foreign country - one of the essential 'must do' things includes a culinary adventure. After all just the kind of food the locals eat on a regular basis can reveal far more about their culture and heritage, since most of the exotic 'heritage sites' are disappearing so rapidly in the wake of 'modernization' - food seems to be the only thing that maintains its lineage.
Saying this I must admit that Trini food is truly unique - quite so like its people. Its a mixture of Indian (north Indian) and African food with a lot of spiced pepper garnished if you choose for good measure. The national food of the country is the ubiquitous 'doubles' - nothing but the Indian 'chhole bhatura' or chick peas served over two puri (i.e. fried wheat tortilla) with a dollop of chopped raw mango, onions and some hot sauce to top off.. Thats as Indian as it can get, and from a country that is predominantly carnivore - it is a bit surprising. But one fact for sure - go anywhere on the island and you will be sure to find a doubles stall somewhere around the corner. Its cheap (cost varies from TTD 2 to 2.50 per serving [6 TTD == 1 USD] - but apparently its an exponential rise from the previously prevalent 1 TTD in the past year) and a downing a few can easily serve as a full meal (morning/evening or night) or at least in our case - as a good appetizer to start a good meal.
An absolute favorite for a hearty meal was the roti, best eaten after an appetizer of 'doubles' and a beer - and yeah, walking along the street with a bottle is acceptable.... no - its encouraged in this country. Its essentially a bit roti with a bit of ground lentil 'dal' in between - and served as a wrap. You can stuff it with everything from goat, chicken (boneless or with bone - difference in price is around 50 cents), beef, shrimp and liver for meat, and vegetarian supplements including spinach (locally referred to as 'bhaji'), chick peas (chana), pumpkin and potato..... finally topped of with ... yup - you guessed right - hot pepper. So its an all encompassing meal for the person on the move - and it was a regular haunt - three to four times a week! Given the very reasonably prices of between TTD 10 to TTD 20 depending upon the meat - it was a no-brainer for a hungry stomach...... and it was pretty good too. The best place to get a roti (and also doubles too) are the ladies across the Smokey Bunty bar (apparently a political hotspot) in the St. James neighborhood of Port of Spain.
Apart from these two there are several other cuisine available - descending from all around the world which have now been modified to Trini tastes - which basically means something a bit on the sweeter side..... and then the killer pepper :-) But stuff like 'callaloo' - a spinach preparation, and Chinese food - which if you ask for a lot of gravy in the rice - resembles an Indian curry results in a quite a interesting variation to choose from. That is one of the cool things here - whichever culture comes here, assimilates itself well - so the concoction that results is certainly very interesting indeed.
Now among the other exotic food, which I confess I did not taste - but would have loved to try was the commonly available cow heel soup (yup, it is exactly that.... must be lot of cows with crutches around Trinidad...), shark fin soup (yes, this is available) and bake and shark (pita bread wrap with fried shark and an assortments of condiment - onions, pepper... more different types of pepper....) It is true that shark is quite popular here, and that its possibly endangered too - but God - shark is sooo good mmmm.
However the country is not immune to the onslaught of the big fast food chains - and this is manifested by KFC, which apparently owns the biggest, busiest and most profitable KFC around the world right here in Independence Square - Port of Spain. Visit it once, and everyone that day will know that you visited KFC. Wisely enough, I stayed away most of the time.
Now right to the beverages - people love their beer, and hell yeah - its pretty good. Right from the ever present Carib to the Stag. Another very common, and brilliantly refreshing drink is the coconut - you see a sign selling 'cold nuts' - head right to it. Its such a favorite that the next best favorite from the Stag is whiskey - mixed with nothing less but coconut juice ... crikey!!!!!!!! Just as a word of caution though - most places have no clue on how to mix drinks - so if you order a daiquiri or a martini - both may taste, and most likely are the same, the only difference being the glass its served in. One good place for cocktails though is the Hilton - go to the bar downstairs and ask for Glen - he is good at suggesting drinks, and you can enjoy it with a nice game of pool at a table overlooking the lovely Queen's Savannah Park in the heart of Port of Spain.
All the above was the good bit, however like everything there were some well errr.. mishaps that I perhaps should mention. One, which is so common that I am sure it was not just a one time accident is the tendency for restaurants to over-charge you for the meal. After being twice bitten - it was always down to carefully analyzing the bills after meals, even though it may have been uncomfortable or seen as unbecoming to my guests. Another was the super-duper long waits (an hour was not uncommon), and average food at the supposedly fancy restaurants resulted in quite a dreary experience for me - will trade that for a hot, instantly available fresh roti any day!
So just as a recommendation - if your in Trinidad, chuck the hotel food and walk along the streets - at least in safer areas - the food is fabulous and the hospitality and bonhomie makes it a wonderful gourmet experience.

'kidding' around at the Carnival

Music
Ah music and dance, that is one of the best exports of the Caribbean. The region that gave the world the Calypso now sways to the pulsating beat of 'Soca' - which from my untrained ear sounds something like a mixture of hip-hop and reggae. Down a couple of beers, and you will have no problem swaying to the beats of 'Doggie Slaughter' and the rest. The dance form like all things - never exists in its purity, but is aptly modified to meet the rhythms of the place. This is very evident in the few 'salsa' places - where the dance is an exotic blend of Latin American sensuousness combined with African pulsating beats - groovy.... And where would you buy such music - do not fear, cause the trend seems to be in hand drawn carts which plow the streets. Each cart is equipped with a CD player and huge speakers along with a car battery besides the CD's on sale of course.... On a Sunday if you walk down Independence square the music changes every 100 feet - as you pass one vendor after the other.... thats what you call live mixing :-)
And what about the Indians - well even that seems to be quite popular here, with not one but 3 Indian radio channels (one for oldies, another for contemporary and a third for the latest mixes). Add in a couple of the popular Indian television channels (Sony, Zee TV etc) and you can catch up on all the latest soaps that are being televised in India. Of course - everything with sub-titles, since I did not meet a single Trini-Indian who could actually speak Hindi :-D.

An Easter Reflection

2007-04-07T11:15:00.000-04:00

'Human's hardwired to believe in a higher power' - screamed the headlines from CNN, part of a multi-part series discussing the existence (or non-existence as some may believe) of God, and His effect on society.
As the season of Lent draws to a close with its call for some personal introspection, a few thoughts swirl through my mind - as I try to comprehend the bigger meaning of all this.
First of all - the big question, why do I believe what I am instructed to believe in.... is it doctrine, is it blind faith - or is it something else altogether. I have asked myself this question many a time, each time trying to nail down an answer. Now to be completely honest, I do make a good attempt to go to church every Sunday (yes, I am a Catholic, and yes - most of the times I am successful in my attempt). But this does not by default make me a good person or a good Catholic. Nearly every religion I know preaches the same ideals on how to lead a good life - be honest, truthful, kind, gentle etc. But then what is it that draws me to Christianity ... personified by one individual, a carpenter's son who lived and died over 2000 years ago.
If he was living today he certainly may not have been my role model, by all standards of the modern world he was not highly educated, did not have a lot of money, and mixed about with the bedraggled type whose company I would prefer to shun. Although many have written books such a 'what would Jesus do' etc. I do suspect that if he was living in the present times he would have been scorned by most - similar to what happened a long time ago. So, if that is the reality, then is there something that attracts me to such a persona? I pondered on this topic over and over for the longest time, trying to rationalize something which maybe inherently irrational. The conclusion would have to have some relevance to me in today's crazy world - it was my faith after all.
The realization that came about was a somber acknowledgement of my relationship with God. My belief stemmed from the very fact, and its historically documented, that someone I did not know - but who may (and if you don't believe - may not) have known me was willing to stand in my stead, be spat on, reviled and mocked by all, and made to carry a heavy cross on his frail shoulders. If that wasn't enough he endured the sheer embarrassment of being stripped naked in front of a public audience, strapped against the very cross he labored across the pathways with and as a cruel grand finale - have a bunch of nails hammered into his wrist and feet and crucified. There, in his final hours hanging in absolute agony if he could find it within himself to be able to forgive everyone who hated him, and be able to bear the brunt of everyone cruelty without uttering a word of rebuke - I am not sure what I could say about the person. He would have to be absolutely insane, or simply love the people he died for so much - that it was unconditional, to the very end. Make no mistake - whether you believe he was God incarnate or not - he died as a man, just like you and me - he did suffer; excruciating pain would have been his only company, compounded with the agony of being left all alone, abandoned by his followers, and scorn poured on him from all.
The end result is that I am left with a burden that cannot be repaid. He knows that I will fail numerous times trying to become a better person, but His love will remain unchanged, His faith in me resolute. For this I have to acknowledge and give Him homage for the person who He was, is and will continue to remain for me until my last breath.

A moment of bliss

2007-02-03T19:30:00.000-05:00

I sat up and looked around, my eyes scanning the horizon taking in the setting sun. A few centuries ago a mighty ruler had once called this rampart his domain with its strategic locations straddling river and ocean. The Indian king Tipu Sultan had possibly used this outpost to monitor his waterways - hence the moniker 'Sultan Battery'. Nowadays it harbored none of the fierce warriors, but served more as a secret getaway to an assortment of 'roadside Romeos' and star-struck lovebirds who would flee to the safety of its solid stone walls for a few moments away from the glare of the rest of the forever inquisitive world.

I was not there that balmy evening for either, although maybe there was something towards seeking a bit of solitude from the teeming crowds, noise and hustle bustle which seemed to have sprung about my hitherto sleepy hometown like weeds after a spring rainfall. It was a serene evening, sitting on the rampart walls looking over the isthmus towards the beach on the other side. The sun was just setting signaling the returning fishing fleet to come in to dock at the small ramshackle harbor. A sweet breeze began to rise carrying with it the aroma of fried fish from one of the many small hamlets that dotted the coast, mmmmm.... reminded me of the good food to be had back home.

But at that moment in the company of a few good friends, soaking up the splendid view - it was pure bliss.

A walk through a once sleepy town

2007-01-27T20:30:00.000-05:00

I have just returned from a small vacation to my hometown, Mangalore where the buzzword on the streets seemed to be about Mangalore's development from sleepy little town with little to its name except sharing a number of alphabets with its better known half - Bangalore, to a bustling city which could hold out on its own.

If you had visited the Kadri park on Nantoor hills a few years ago you would be looking down to a vista of lush green coconut trees and fields all the way until they met the ocean at the horizon. Now this dramatic portrait is giving way to a more stark reality - that of numerous 'Ocean View' skyscrapers jostling for space with the ever receding flora. As I strolled through different sections of the city, the 'development' was strikingly evident. Roads expanded, high-rises popping up in every nook and corner, paddy fields almost an extinct species, and now recently, the advent of the ubiquitous mall. For the big developer, this was all signs of progress. But at the same time, in hushed tones were signs that this 'development' was accompanied by its dirty underbelly; there were ever frequent water cuts, the bore wells being dug for the buildings had lowered the water table.. power outages were becoming a way of life, construction was rampant with little or no care of urban planning and design and some buildings themselves had shoddy construction and poor execution. People were now travelling longer distances and spending more time getting to and back to work, either due to poor or non-existent infrastructure or due to the high cost of living within the city.

At the back of my mind I couldn't help but wonder - was this a case of development, or more of a case of sprawl. Was there any sense behind the rampant tearaway growth, ensuring that all its citizens could grow and develop in a city which offered good road and sanitation facilities, adequate power and water for all, and preserve and maintain its heritage and lush greenery which had defined it for many centuries? Was there any method to this madness to build up every available space, rather than to carefully plan a city so that old and new could peacefully coexist? I live abroad, where urban sprawl has become the disgusting reality of everyday life. Long commutes, smog and unfriendly cities have become passe. Some cities have rightly realised this and are spending billions of dollars trying to restore some semblance of sanity. Mangalore is yet not there, but could soon become one unless we change our outlook towards it. The citizens need to realise that the time is now to effect a change, else the next generation are bound to be raised in a faceless city, a city without an identity, a city which is a lost cause.

p.s. I hoped to make this a bit more evident by trying to source and show a picture of the view from Nantoor about 10-15 years ago and what you can see now. If anyone does have a file photograph and would be willing to share it feel free to send it in.

Art for Art's sake

2007-01-14T15:05:00.000-05:00

An artist first and foremost is a dreamer, and it is his or her manifestation of the thought process that is represented in his/her art, whether it may be visual or auditory; or for that matter any other form of expression.However for the longest period of time I never could understand what motivated an artist - it surely couldnt be money since for every Warhol there would be a million others struggling to eke out an existence. Yet, for the most part they seem to be quite a contended lot, which is quite an oxymoron in this capitalist crazed world. Even more so, I love to have them around as my friends, being capable of engaging in pretty interesting conversations ranging from the 'pirouette of a ballarina' to the 'bold brush strokes of a Van Gogh' - far better than the latest technology buzz which surrounds nearly all technology centric folk.

And although a number of us dismiss their efforts by far less than a passing glance for many an artist the final product is the fruit of hours and years of painstaking effort spent honing an act which in its final stage seems almost effortless to the rest of us minions. Ever realise that even the great Michelangelo spent seven painstaking years of back-breaking labor to create the fresco which adorns the Sistine Chapel to this day or the sweet melody from a Yo Yo Ma performance did not result from overnight magic.

Maybe I am not cut out to be an artist, maybe I cannot appreciate the fine nuances and interpretations of modern art, but what I do know and appreciate is the labor behind it, the total commitment to perfect and further an art form for the singular purpose of raising human conciousness; to provide a beautiful sight to behold to sore eyes and praise the single minded determination behind the whole effort. And for this gift - I applaud thee.

An adventure of a life-time....

2006-12-09T22:57:00.000-05:00

Although I have absolutely no idea of how many (or how few) people actually read what I write, I thought it would be an interesting idea to see how many other crazy folk like me are out there.... now back to what this post is all about..

I have been ruminating over the past few months of trying out something way out of my league, something to cherish as a memory for eternity. Sure, travelling around Europe and USA was cool, but it just did not seem to cut it as THE THING to do. And finally after some soul searching (and bank balance too) I believe I have figured out just what I want to do - and this time, if you feel somewhat the same, invite you to join in my adventure.

I PLAN ON UNDERTAKING AN ATTEMPT TO CLIMB MOUNT CHO OYU.

Cho Oyu, you ask ... err where is that and why that place. Let me try to explain.
Well Mt. Cho Oyu is one of the 14 Eight-thousanders - 6th highest peak in the world at 8201m. If you want to read more about it then feel free to read the basics at wikipedia
I did spend sometime looking at what I wanted to achieve - and this peak seemed to meet all my basic objectives

Height - at 8201m I think I would be certainly be satisfied
Cost - well it costs around $15000 to ascend the peak, certainly much cheaper than the $45000 required for Everest.
Accessibility - its on the border between Nepal and China, not in any Indian territory occupied by Pakistan
Safety - at a fatality rate of 2% it is one of the easiest and safest mountains to climb. This would be a big requirement for my folks anyways
Time required - at ~40 days I believe I could scrounge around for sufficient leave to allow for such a trip.
Operators - people like Russell Brice have excellent track records for landing people on the summit and safely bringing them back.

I plan to make this trip in 2009 - 2010. This time-frame would be a sufficient notification for anyone who would like to make this expedition. Hopefully, the group could make a smaller 'expedition' to the Rockies in Colorado in 2008 in preparation of the main trip.

This would possibly be an adventure of a lifetime. You would most certainly be pushed way beyond your mental and physical ability (my current state is quite pathetic to say the least) and would have to train hard and long to be able to achieve your goal. If you are one of those who wonders what is the rationale to struggle up a mountain simply to climb down again - this is certainly not for you! But if you are a free soul like me, and seek to achieve and motivate yourself beyond your current capacity - let me know. I can't promise you that you will reach the summit, I personally do not know if I can reach the summit, but I do strongly believe that this effort will result in a new appreciation of who you are, and a new realization of what one can achieve if resolute to the task at hand.

Unbridled love in a small bundle

2006-08-19T11:00:00.000-04:00

Fuurr - rarr- reeee c'mon it cannot be THAT difficult as I slowly enunciate each syllable ...... Fuuuu - fuuuu - fuu comes back. I look down, way down to that body clinging to one leg, dove eyes staring right at me with a look bordering on breaking into tears because it is sooo difficult to please me... sorrreeee Jojo, and then we turn back to the proud prancing horse emblem of the Scudiera Ferrari team and try once more.
Kids............ eeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhh. Well once upon a time not too long ago, that pretty much would have been my response when asked, invited or cajoled to interact with a, for lack of a better word - species who I thought capable of nothing much more than endless lost sleep, constant restroom engagements, and pretty much nothing in common - not even a language, for the very youngest of them at least. On the seldom occasions when I was forced to carry a baby, as one person put it - it was more like carrying a laptop, your dead sure that it ain't gonna fall down anytime soon; comfort of the baby.... that would be persona non grata.
Looking back I think the first time I sorta got my hands dirty with kids was with the Brown boys. I sincerely do not remember writing in my list of preferences 'likes kids' when enrolling into the American host program at Virginia Tech .... not at least the first time you see - there are FIVE of them - all boys. And if you know the tiny terror I was in my formative years, I knew that I was going to be in for a roller coaster bit of a time. And what a time it would be. Two years with them pretty much changed me from an anti-kid to a pro-kid person. Sure, you would always have the 'no, NOT AGAIN' times but hey, what the heck - they sure were a lot of fun... but at least they were guys........

So coming back to where I started, what I am up against is my niece Nicole who is female, just under 2, speaks Swahili for all that I care, and I suspect that we just aren't quite operating on the same wavelength. But still what a time it is. In return of endless hair pulling, finger pulling (her hand isn't quite big yet :-)) and yelling - what I get is being smothered with kisses (its always the same - left cheek, right cheek, nose and forehead... very carefully planted each time, gauging my reaction before proceeding), and a big hug of my leg...... ah.... who doesn't mind getting some pampering from time to time..

Mythos

2006-05-19T14:25:00.000-04:00

Every now and then a conflict of belief's comes arises concerning the sum and substance of mythology. These narratives may be in the form of religious belief's and practices or in the form of urban legends - but one cannot underestimate the impact they have on the prevalent society who are influenced by these myths.
The essence of the disagreement is primarily - are myth's fact..... or fiction apparently holds sway across much of the civilized world, from the Ramayana and Mahabharata epics of Hindusdu's to the book of Genesis of Christians. On one side you have the 'prove the myth - else it is rubbish' supporters and on the other you have the 'it did happen - my faith is based on it' opposition, both equally dedicated to the task of proving themselves right.
Problem is, that if indeed these legends were actually true incidents, they happened so long ago, that it becomes no trivial task to prove or disprove a myth. When that happens people resort to faith or science to try and explain the un-explainable, again what I believe to be a dead end.
From some reflective thinking on the topic I think I may have an alternate hypothesis which would aim and satisfy both parties - if not please do not misconstrue it as an attempt to inflame passion, rather as a introduction of an alternate thought process.
The question that begs being asked is whether(or was) the actual happening of the incident in question (whether it be the story or Adam and Eve, or the Ramayana) is of utmost importance, or is it something more subtle, but one of far greater value. Maybe, just maybe what is really of significance is the punch line - the core lesson that the narrative intends to impart. A lesson of the human frailty of man (Adam and Eve), a struggle between good triumphing over evil (Ramayana) are some of them. Isn't this the crux of these treatise?

Many centuries ago, one person did the same, talking in parables to describe to his followers the means to achieve enlightenment. And this erudite teacher had a reason for doing so - it was the only means of making a common person understand complex ideologies. True to his time, this still must hold value even today, since so many are engaged in trying to identify themselves in this modern world.

Coming to think about it, the consternation about whether these stories are fact or fiction is irrelevant. These narratives, whether true or false, have stood the test of time, not on the literary value, but on their moral teachings - and that is what we need to imbibe.

The dreamland that is Indian Cinema

2006-05-16T10:17:00.000-04:00

For the past several weeks I have been suffering from what I may call, for lack of a better description is a bloggers blackout. Simply put, I get ideas in my head for interesting prose, and I begin duly writing the same, but the finesse is just not there to complete the work. The picky person that I am, results in hardly anything making it past the draft stage - well until today.

Again, for the past few weeks, I have watched a few, select Hindi movies - selections of a few friends, and what I could get my hands around. Now you would ask, well what's so special about that? Ahem... from where I come from - its all about the same. To be completely honest I pretty much stayed away from those movies, an excuse always at hand when I was invited to come along, both in India and here in USA. My reason was simply this, the story lines were predictable, rich girl meets poor boy (or poor girl meets rich boy), they fall in love (some petty squabbles and histrionics are introduced before that), throw in a villain somewhere and finally the 'good guys' win - voila, end of story!
Nowadays, the new genre of film makers are exploring other themes, but the bulk of the movies are rehashes of the same old principles, only the locales are not Srinagar - but Switzerland and the heroine Aishwarya not Madhubala. But still, I had to admit, there must be some substance in them that has kept audiences coming to the big-screen for the past six to seven decades - and I decided to figure out for myself.

After watching a few (some were indeed very terrible) select titles from the mainstream genre I too started, to realize and appreciate where the sum and substance of Indian cinema came from. Here in the USA most movies potray the real world - infact they specialize in that! - As in the case of Wag the Dog - if Hollywood so chose they could quite accurately potray any 'reality' that you wanted an audience to see.
In India though, its quite the opposite. They are filled with color, with elaborate song and dance sequences - with motifs very quintessential Indian. I noticed this to a great detail while watching Swades - one of 'to watch' movies on my list. There in one of the scenes the movies come to the village - with the entire population gathering to watch the show. The movie is an old print, probably one seen by the audience multiple times... but yet they eyes are filled with enrapture. For these few hours they can leave their pathetic lives behind, their endless struggles for basic essentials, their poverty and unrelenting misery. It is in this time that they can live out their fantasies - possibly that of young boy falling in love with a pretty girl, with hearts of gay abandon and endless romance. It is in these movies that good always triumphs over evil, rising like a phoenix to overcome the seemingly impossible to emerge victorious in the end.

What it gives is something for people to hold on to, to wish for. Hope is a wonderful thing, and that is what these movies of yore try to provide.... and that is what makes it all so endearing.

what every guy car(e)s for...

2006-01-13T14:54:00.000-05:00

At many an occasion I've had a person, typically of the fairer sex blurt out in exasperation.. 'is that all you can care about, after all it is an inanimate thing; it does not have feelings, does not possible a heart which can love - then how on earth can it be more important than me. Now, now, before we plunge right away, a clarification is in the offing. The 'it' my friends - is a car. It need not be my car, but hell and high heaven - I sure do have the 'hots' for it.

Let me explain - I am sure many of you will understand how I feel, and may even share my feelings ... and least I hope so once I am done. In order to do so, lets start with a comparison from where this whole discussion started in the first place - to decide between a girl... and a car. Keeping in mind the pecking order - will start with the girl. Not to say that she isn't pretty, she has the right curves, a sweet sexy voice and makes all the right moves. When she is around you, your world pretty much turns to jelly - and everything is all discombobulated and incoherent... but you are at a high - 'up in the clouds' as they say. But, isn't there always a but..... she has the temper of a pit viper, irritate her once and you will have to spend your entire week - or month, and most certainly all the contents of your wallets to get her back into your warm embrace. Many a time you will spend endless hours doing 'unboyish' things (ya ya, and they have even coined a word for it ... 'metrosexual'.... that for me defines a man of undefined sexuality who has spent most of his life in a metro or something akin) wondering when can you just get home and crash... but dare not speak a word of fear of offending the all great one....

Now a car.... at least the car's that I dream about are nothing, NOTHING like that. Lets consider my favorite - the McLaren F1. It is breathtakingly beautiful, have specs which will put Angelina Jolie to shame - all carbon fiber, 0-60mph in under 4s - top speed of 225mph, with a power to weight ratio that will make you simply drool. Ok - lets forget about the engineering - and just focus on the looks... its awwwwwwwwwwweeesome.... and yeah the multiple w's are there for a purpose. The flawless engineering and sleek looks combined can make my heart beat at technopace. Oh sure it does break down - but for crying out loud.... what doesn't. I have never sat in one, but oh my just look at the faces of people who did - a month after they got out... they are still grinning like a jackass from the experience. The sweet roar of the engine, with the woof-woof of the turbocharger - is pure music to my ears.
Now you will smirk and say - Ha, so what... its just like a young boys fantasy of dating Catherine Zeta Jones or someone. But.... there is just one element of doubt that creeps into my mind. Sure, I guess I will never be able to date Catherine Zeta Jones or something.... she is beautiful no doubt... but is she totally without blemish? But when Gordon Murray designed his car - that's exactly what he did. It was a person's concept of a no holds barred, object of pure and unadulterated beauty. You knew that it embodied everything what you ever wanted, it was spotless and pure, filling your heart with unbridled passion.
Why would you then, every want to compromise .... in front of a girl, the Mclaren F1 was... perfect

On losing a friend...

2006-01-02T11:38:00.000-05:00

The phone at the other end rang; once, twice, thrice - each time with my heart skipping a beat in anticipation that the intended recipient would at least lift up the receiver. No such luck though, and it went directly to the voicemail. Did not have the courage to leave another message, the folly of the whole thing made me feel let down. Where had we gone wrong for this to pass...
In some odd way I cannot not let myself bear any ill-will towards that person, an individual whose company, albeit distant, I had cherished without any prejudice or ill-intention. I know time is the great healer, yet I still do know that in the recess of my soul the person will always remain a memory, however faint - set in concrete in the stillness of my heart.
I realise the great danger posed in giving oneself to any person - without the assuredness of any return. However my being human is what I am - this I cannot change, however hard I try to be stoic, deep down it does hurt. But such is life, and I will have to trudge along - possibly alone again, but with a prayer in my heart that the person in question has a life full of pleasure and happiness, even though it may not be in companionship with me.
Love is such a strange thing, with its ability to bring out such wonders in people. In the limited time I experienced it, it filled my life with joy and a new found enthusiasm in each and every aspect of my life. I wish and pray that each of you today will someday find true love - and that this love - pure, unbridled and true... will last a lifetime

Europe on a shoestring - Day 16 (Paris) [October 9, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:58:00.000-05:00

Next morning Samir left around 10:30am while Anil and I first walked to Place de la Bastille - in modern day nothing but a roundabout with a marker in the center, and the large Opera Bastille occupying one prominent corner. We then walked back picking up some raisins from the local market and sat in the Place des Vosges - the first planned community in Europe with famous residents including Victor Hugo.

Place des Vosges

Then - it was time for us to leave, our trip had come to its end... an end of a dream which I had thought about for so many years was finally fulfilled - and it left a beautiful impression in my mind - in words I could not describe, and I hope and dream that i will be able to continue on my sojourns for many years more.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 15 (Paris) [October 8, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:57:00.001-05:00

Next day morning we booked a ticket to see the palace of Versailles - and after a nice journey through the Parisian suburbs (high rises, townhouses etc) arrived at Versailles. Hmmm... nice or not I do not really know... since I was fast asleep, and duly snapped up by Samir.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..... thats me

The train gouged out a gaggle of tourists (us among them) all headed for the palaces. The palace symbolized the opulance of the French kings and there are rows and rows of bedrooms all decorated from top to bottom in French art. Oddly enough apart from a few paintings, I did not think that the paintings had that great a sense of finesse as those in Italy. Among the sculptures that stood out were Louis XV potrayal as a Roman Emperor - I guess similar to Cosimo I in Florence all the rulers wanted to model themselves as Caesar. Sadly the hall of mirrors was under restoration so we did not get a chance to see it in its full grandeur. But by then the splendid gardens were beckoning and thats exactly what we did - and enjoyed every bit of it. i think we may have spent equal time in the park as the museums. We had fun talking autumn pictures of falling leaves and the swans squabbling for scraps in the lakes.

The gardens surrounding the palace were far more enjoyable than the palace itself... and lots of sun made different creatures come alive :-)

We returned back to the city hoping to get another excellent 'plat de jour' at another recommended diner - however it was way past 15:00 and we were not that lucky this time. We indulged in a simple baguette at a fast food place - practical and simple. The sun was by now shining brightly - the first after two days of relative gloom which made our way to the Eiffel Tower all that better.

Napolean's tomb

On the way we stopped to admire the Jesuit church and the tomb of Napolean - though both were given the 'exterior' look as we were drawn by the ever imposing Eiffel Tower.

ouch.... that is definitely pointed!!!

First views - well the names of many of the great French scientists Dirac, Focault etc were etched on the first level of the tower... guess the engineer in me got those words first. Stand beneath it and you realise the montrosity of the whole thing - which at first was meant to be a temporary exhibit and was ridiculed when built. However if there is anything that puts you off it is the lines - like a serpent whose tail never seems to end. You have one line to buy tickets - then another to go up, either by elevator or steps. The line itself seemed that it would take a good two hours to even go up so after some debate we gave up and just 'chilled' on the lawns reminiscing about the day until sunset. Heading back by metro we picked up a good bottle of vin and some cheese and arrived at hostel. Since drinking was forbidden at the hostel (given that they encouraged student groups to stay) we strolled until we reached the Seine and sat on a bench there - sipping wine and toasting to a fine trip, waving to the tour boats passing by us. This would be the classic end to our trip.

Samir's favorite car - a Citroen 2CV
Relaxing in the Left Bank
Samir's last masterpiece.... with the sayings of the day

Finally as a last hurrah, we headed back to the Left bank and 'chilled' out at a local bar there.... taking videos of ourselves and laughing silly.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 14 (Paris) [October 7, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:57:00.000-05:00

The next day we got up early and after a simple (but free) breakfast of croissants, juice and coffee we headed off to our first stop - the Arc de Triomphe. Again it was a labyrinth of walkways and two changes - but finally we emerged at our destination, which was bathed in fog. It stood in the middle of a roundabout with a tunnel connecting the periphery to the monument. And rightfully so given that there were no traffic lanes and God help the person who tries to cross the cobbled street on foot.

On the other side the monument rises high above the ground with the striking Amazonian female warrior Marseillaise leading the way in a rallying war cry on one side, and the names of different generals and officers who died in battle etched all over the structure. The tomb of the unknown soldier also rests at this place. We then trudged up the many steps to look at the view from the top - but before spent some time in the small museum on the top dedicated to the memory of Napolean and his victories. It detailed the hardships his men had to endure and his tactical methodologies which granted him victories at Austerlitz and other places against great odds. Napolean, although eventually defeated does still serve as France's greatest hero.
Interestingly though the panoramic view was nothing like I had thought - with a heavy fog reducing visibility to a few hundred meters - and sights like the Eiffel tower barely visible through the fog. Returning back down we took a walk along the Champs Elysees - which is full of designer wear and.. McDonalds. But what interested us the most were the car showrooms with Renaults Concept car and Mercedes - yes the Mclaren SLR on display.

McLaren SLR - definitely worth a visit

By then it was nearing 13:00 and we looked for a place to eat - and Champs Elysees didnt quite seem like the place to find food to fit our budget. So it was again back to the guide book - and we chose a historical gastronomic landmark - Chartier which opened is 1896 to provide affordable meals to ordinary people. Another train ride and a short walk brought us to the joint which resembled Bombay's Irani restraunts in certain ways. For lunch we had an appetizer of snail (escargots - which were served in what looked and tasted like green chutney), baked fish as main course (always fresh and lovely) and washed down with a glass of table wine. Awesome meal - costing only around $13 - and considering it was a sit down place - terrific value for money in Paris. About the snails - the only thing that i can say that they felt a bit like mussels - although the chutney masked any odd taste that one may experience.

a must see and eat while in Paris

From there it was all the way to the Louvre - with the passes helping skip all the long lines, have no clue why the others also do not do something similar... Now the Louvre is HUUUGE...and covers a hug number of ancient civilizations right till the modern age. Its nearly impossible (no i take that back - its IMPOSSIBLE) to see the museum in a day. I saw two large type of people in the Louvre - who i would take pity on (these types were at other museums we went to too). 1. The tour group - I guess the operators try to cram as much in one day as possible, so you tend to run through museums at the rapid pace. Its interesting to watch peoples interest levels especially if its their 4th or 5th museum of the day - with special mention reserved to the hangers-on (teh people who walk along the periphery of the group). Disinterest is the word for it... 2.The others are the 'I've been there, done that types' who come equipped with a camcorder and camera - at each painting there is an obligatory photograph or quick scan with the camcorder and then move on... what one gains from this - is anyones guess.

We chose to be selective and took upon the task of looking at just 40 odd sculptures and paintings - this took an entire 6 hours, but at the end of it we had got time to read, understand and appreciate the art. Samir was at his creative best and joined fellow artists at the base of the Samothrace and produced his second masterpiece....

The Samothrace of Samir

while i experimented with some trick photography of my own... some education, some fun - makes for a great time.

There was Tutenkhamen... and then was Samiramen :-)

In between we took a break and took a walk toward the Tuilerese gardens to take a breather before resuming our stroll through the museum. Before we left it was time for some more 'night in Paris' photography and then we walked right back to the Latin quarter to another restaurant for some fare - this time Italian.

Hotel de Ville - office of the mayor

The owner a gregarious Italiano - was delighted at our rudimentary Italian-speak and made for a nice culinary experience. At night we were greeted by our friendly Indian guard who indicated areas where we should visit to eat Indian food - little did he know that it was Indian and American food that we wanted to escape.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 13 (Paris) [October 6, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:56:00.001-05:00

This was going to be the last segment of our trip - in a way there was a sense of sadness among us, that our amazing adventure was on its final lap... in a way it was a sense of relief since by now we (at least I for sure) were sight weary travellers - having seen more than our adequate share of art, architecture and nature in two weeks than most others may have seen in a lifetime. I guess in a way I should consider myself blessed that I had been given the opportunity and the resources to undertake this venture.

Anywho we arrived at Gare Austerlitz (Gare == station) early in the morning from Nice. It was an overcast day, not too cold but definitely nothing like the Cote d'Zur. Although the Russian travelling with us had indicated that the MIJE hostel Le Faconnier was not too far away and we could walk the distance we decided to take it easy and use the metro.
Now the Paris metro (pronounced as ma-eee-th-ro in a la Francais) is an underground maze with snakes its way and different lines are connected by a subterranean maze of walkways. What we did'nt realize was that the walkways were not short distances, but could possible be a hundreds of meters. In fact, come to think of it we may have walked half the distance and taken a train for half the distance. After picking up the billets (tickets) we went to St. Paul.
Again following our policy of street walking we had chosen a place right in the middle of the city - in the Marais (formerly a swamp) area. We first stopped at a boulangerie for a cup of cappucino along with some kiesche.. the food was Samir's idea - and yeah it was quite filling. Yeah there places are all around these areas and are absolutely fabulous. Then we continued our march towards La Faconnier through some narrow alleys/roads. It was just as I imagined it - a large old aristocratic mansion covered from top to bottom in ivy.

Our room - spartan but just fine.... with a sweet view outside

Inside there were a lot of teenagers having a breakfast. Sadly for us the checking time was 15:00 but the lady at the front desk (Fatima) allowed us to keep our backpacks in a secure storage and to freshen up. So after an hour or so we moved on to begin our exploration of Paris.
We began by moving to the Il de la Cite - the island between the left and right banks which housed the Cathedral Notre Dame. We first walked about the gardens surrounding it - spending time reading about the Cathedral itself (given that it would be common courtesy to keep quiet within) and admiring its exterior facade - with its towering turrets and grutesque gargoyles. We moved on to see the interiors - but not before enjoying the front door arch with its comical potrayal of the good and the bad with the devils looking quite like naughty children and the facade filled with the sculptures of the altar boys adorning it.
Inside it was dark with a magnificant altar and several side altars dedicated to different saints. Moving on we went past the Palais de Justice to the Sant Chapelle. We had to wait a bit, security being tight since it also housed the French supreme court - but once inside had a quick look at the lower chapel - housing the commoners chapel - and then through a winding narrow staircase to the upperchapel. This I would say is the most spectacular chapel I have ever seen. the entire walls are made up of panels upon panels of stained glass. The panels (more than 1000 in number) capture details of both old and new testament as vivid picture potraits on glass. It begins from the story of Adam and Eve and ends with the Revelations. Using the handout (our guides were too simplistic for these kind of descriptions) we sat, looked and read about the history and stories embodied in the panels. By then time had passed quickly but there was one more stop I wanted to take before lunch - this was the Conciergerie - the prison where the prisoners, including Marie Antoinette were held during the french revolution. Luckily we had bought our French Carte-pass at Sante Chapelle so from now it was all paid for. Inside it was a huge cavernous structure with segments partitioned off for the kitchen, the FINAL preparations and guard quarters. Moving on there are vivid representations of the jail cells (both the poor or the rich) and finally the cell of marie antoinette... with a mannequin with its back to the viewer as a poignant reminder of how someone must have felt spending ones last days before facing the guillotine.
By now it was nearing 15:00 and we went in a hunt for perfect eating place. Of course i wanted a proper sit down meal - and after a bit of searching I found what I was looking for - a hole in the wall called 'Les Degres de Notre-Dame'. For sure it was off the main street and we would not have discovered it if not for a guide book. Now we had to hope that we were in time for the 'plat de jour'.. and although it was closer to 15:30 than 15:00 they agreed - and what followed was a fantastic three course meal with me having some beef thingie with veggies and followed by some good dessert. I do not remember what exactly we tried by did remember that one of Samir's french choices turned out to be yoghurt .... so much for trying something too outlandish, which may give us something ordinary. On our way back on interesting thing did happen .. we saw two beautiful lamborghini's making their way one behind the other through the crowded Paris streets - one Murceliago and one Gallardo.

this is also art.... at least the way I see it!!

Obviously I gave chase - and I was not alone with a couple other tourists running behind the cars clicking away furiously. Wonder what the drivers may have been thinking - stupid, pathetic Americans...? maybe..
We then returned back to the hostel and were given our room - a fully contained three bed room with included shower, but with a common toilet for each floor. The building itself was all wood panelled - with the rooms themselves a bit more modern in appearance. The windows opened to a quiet courtyard which shows off the ivy covered buildings. Ideal environment to enjoy a good nights sleep after walking through the city.
After a refreshing shower (our first in 36 hours since we didnt have the luxury of a 'douche' in Nice) we decided to head off again - this time along the Seine towards the Musee de Orsay. Since Paris is inundated (yes literally inundated) with museums and other historical sites it was a big deal to sort through the whole list to figure out which ones we could (or wanted) to see in three days. Musee de Orsay has one of the biggest collections of modern art - think Van Gogh, Rembrant, Monet which were post Renaissance art, which is different from what we had seen in Italy. In addition it is ensonsced in an old railway station, and if location was not a priority - well it offered extended visiting hours till 21:30 on wednesday. Walking along the Seine gives you an idea of the 'Romance' what people associate with Paris. All along on one side you can see places like the Hotel de Ville, Notre Dame, Louvre (yes, you walk right by it), the sedentary Seine flowing along, with the spot beam from the Eiffel Tower sweeping great swaths at regular intervals.
Anyways once we were in - totally side stepping the huge queues which would normally flood this place we spent around 2 hours inside. There were interesting art - especially from Monet and Van Gogh - but tragically we ran out of time before the museum shut down for the night.
By now it was close to 22:00 and we were wondering where we could go to grab something to eat. After some debate we selected the area in the Latin Quarter where the Sorbonne was situated - in the hope that the presence of a student population would possibly serve 'value for money' meals. In this we were not disappointed and dug into a gargantuan double pizza topping it off with ice-cream. I think the place was a kind of sports bar with flags of Paris St.Germain, Juventus and others adorning the place... would be interesting to come and see a game here - the atmosphere would certainly be electrifying! The ice-cream though (even giving the fact that you could have as many flavors as one wanted if it fit into the cup) didnt cut it as good as the ones in Italy - perhaps it felt a tad too artificially flavored - i dont know... On our way back we were treated to spectacular nighttime Parisian scenery which we duly captured through our lens for eternity before retiring for the night. That said I must add one another interesting titbit - the nightguard was an Indian, a Goan named Wilfred who had come here around 15 years ago. It was at that time I realised that throughout Paris we had seen this - although the facade was french, a lot of the housework, cooks in the restraunt, security staff - were all from the Indian subcontinent (India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan and possibly Bangladesh). Felt a tad bet sheepish at that time, here I was in Paris, wandering far and near for a taste of traditional Parisian cuisine which was duly dished out by a fellow countryman - or maybe its just that the world is a smaller place these days.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 12 (Nice) [October 5, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:56:00.000-05:00

We arrived at Nice via the Trenitalia – which was a comfortable journey. We would need the rest for our whirlwind tour through the Cote d’Azur. As the train rambled along the coast we got our first glimpses of the clear azure waters and the coast stretching as far as the eye could see.

this was truly a place to kick back and relax

However once we got to the more glamorous resorts of Monaco the scene changed – to huge mansions, apartment blocks dotting the hillsides and glitzy signs… for some reason not a very pleasant sight for my eyes. Thankfully Samir had taken some of that into consideration and we headed straight for Nice Ville. It was to be our ‘break-day’, when we would take it a bit easy before heading on to Paris. Hence, apart from a loosely formed plan we did not incorporate a killer schedule. After some breakfast at the station we moved on via the bus towards the old town. Ah, a point of note, unlike in other places where the ATM’s allowed a maximum cash limit of around Euro 400 – here you could easily withdraw amounts of Euro 1000… in line with the Casino industry entrenched here. Taking a local bus we moved along boulevard Jean Jaures (the latter word unpronounceable in English) and then moved into the old town.

The charming and colorful old town

I somehow like these old towns – with narrow cobbled streets, open air cafes and a feel to kill for. The one in Nice Ville was also adorned with brightly painted buildings which shone in the abundant sunlight. Moving on we progressed to the causeway that lined the beach – a lot like marine drive of Bombay with a broad walkway and tree lined road.

Nice from a vantage point

Walking along we climbed up 100m of staircase to reach the gardens which were part of an old fortress. This gave us a panoramic view of the entire city. Exploring the gardens we saw the harbor at a distance filled with the million dollar yacht’s idling in the still, clear water.

Nice harbor

By now it was lunchtime and we hurried down the steps on the other side back into the old town and indulged in some local Plat de jour – mine was some beef stew with pan and washed down with vin.

'Plat de jour'.... if the hand shook - then blame the wine

Wanting to get out of the city we picked up some goodies from the local patisserie and caught a bus to Roquebrune – Cap Martin (pronounced as if you would be coughing when speaking the same). Although it is a three tiered road the bus kept to the lower tier (the upper levels apparently reserved for cars – we had none). It also gave us a ‘bus-tour’ of Monaco with few sightings of the palace and – the Monaco Grand Prix circuit of course!!
Leaving Monaco the bus weaved its away along the hills, with Samir valiantly trying to figure out when we had to get off – it didn’t help that the place was impossible to pronounce for us low level English folk, and the kindly lady who was trying to help us didn’t speak any English. Through some wild hand-gesturing, some apparent French-speak we got down at the right place.
At this time the rain-clouds were beginning to form overhead and we knew that we had a limited time to work with. But it was a nice stroll through quiet French countryside, with time to pause and admire the flora around us. After some assistance we clambered down to reach the walkway cut alongside the rocky seashore. This was a beautiful walk – with the hills above us, with cars on three levels of roadways and the trains a further level below them. Walking a bit we reached Cap Martin railway station and after checking the train timings moved to a beach at the base. If you could call it a private beach – then this was it. No sand, only pebbles but as isolated as one could get. At one end stood a huge mansion, with steps leading to the beach. A luxury cruise liner was docked far off in the bay. Apart from that it was only us – brilliant!! This in my mind was the best – chill time.

A private beach for a pretty private and most definitely wealthy individual

We reluctantly got up after 45 minutes or so due to reducing light and ominous clouds overhead – only just catching the train back into Nice (we saw a super speedboat on our way back). We had a quick dinner at a Chinese place – the second time we had strayed since Lausanne before moving back to the station. We had not been able to locate a easy to use tetapack or non-cork bottle based vino so we had to pretty much just idly wait until our train arrived – the Cote d’Azur leg was over.

In a new country - another day, another place

Europe on a shoestring - Day 11 (Roma) [October 4, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:55:00.001-05:00

This was to be our last day in Rome, and after one day spent in Ancient Rome and the other at Vatican city - this was supposed to be about everything within... sounds ambitious? it certainly was. I had duly suggested that it be dedicated to discover 'centro storico' or the heart of the city. We had certainly got a glimpse of it on our way back from the Vatican and it was time to do justice to the same.

Piazza Republica

We started the day going west toward the Piazza Republica and after a stand up breakfast of cappuccino and croissants (the food at the hostel was anyways totally unappealing) decided to pop in and see Santa Maria degli Angeli - whos call to fame I guess is that it was built on the site of the Bath's of Diocletian - the baths are actually visible from the sides. We then walked onwards towards the Spanish Steps with the under repair Trinita dei Monti church on top. When we reached there after a steady slow upward climb we were sorely disappointed. The Spanish Steps - were... well steps, and nothing too great about them in terms of architecture or art, although what graced the steps could definitely be defined as art forms :-). Since we not really interested in Keats or any of the long dead poets after glancing towards the Villa Medici in the foreground continued trudging towards Piazza del Popolo. In this great pedestrian circle we rested our now tired legs watching kids feed pigeons and do what I realized was a national pastime, or disease - smoke. It had slowly started to drizzle and we made our way into the Santa Maria del Popolo church which I must say had a wonderful collection of Renaissance art. I think there I finally fixated on my favorite Renaissance artist - that of Caravaggio whos paintings literally seem to leap out of the canvas to you. In addition the church does house the Chigi chapel whom as the guide seemed to illustrate were one of the biggest rivals to the power of the Medici's. The chapel though is pretty bare, which may have been wrought on by the Medici's themselves once their ascent to papal power was complete.
Walking south now we first came across the Mausoleo di Augusto - now a derelict closed chamber with a moat and walkway alongside it. Just went to show how the ascent of the church brought an abrupt end to all Roman adventures. Again as usual the hunger pangs started to creep in but we had to make one last halt via the Trevi fountain - at the Pantheon. This huge Roman edifice like all things Roman had been consecrated as a church, but just to look at the structure was impressive with the huge stone columns holding up a massive dome. I had selected Piazza de Campo dei Fiori for lunch hoping for a market on the likes of Florence but were disappointed by what we saw - all raw meat and vegetables, much smaller than Mercato Centrale. But then Samir came up with a winner - I do not remember the name but it was located off the main street in a little alley.

What a feast.... of freshly caught pesce

The owners spoke no English, but i had the best pesce (fish) caught fresh that day, and baked just right with a good sprinkling of olive oils and italian herbs and spice. It was good to sit out and watch time go by, eating Italian style. One thing to note - if you do not ask for the bill, it will NEVER come. The Italians believe in taking ones time to eat, and no one will force you out and you can continue at a slow unhurried pace. After a hearty meal - where could we go but continue our indulgences but for some dessert. And to help in the digestion we meandered through numerous alleyways to arrive at the Jewish Ghetto which was supposed to contain a famous Jewish Patisserie. But as luck would have it - apart from some old Jewish buildings, a Roman ruin alongside a synagogue we did not find what we were looking for. All our queries resulted was in a few rounds of the Jewish Ghetto and we finally gave up - not dessert time, but the search for the patisserie. Instead we followed our scents (ok not smell but a guidebook) to Trastavere, crossing an old crossing over the Tiber to the mainly residential, middle class area. There beside Santa Maria della Scala (Mary of the staircase - built where a woman had a vision of Mary near a staircase nonetheless) was an excellent gelato place, simple but fulfilling and we duly pigged in.
Now it was all the way back, with a stop at two churches Gesu and Sant Ignazio. For Samir and me it did hold a special significance since there were the center of the Jesuit order and both of us were products of a Jesuit education. The former had the embalmed body of St.Ignatius none the less - but a look into both the churches was truly wonderful. Both had excellent examples of Tromphe Loyal painting techniques and were beautifully adorned. I should say they came near the top of my list for my 'favorite churches in Rome'. By now it was getting dark and we decided to move back to the railway station (where we had put our bags in lockers for fear of having stuff taken away by Joshua and company). But to end the day - like all young Roman's do we stopped by the Spanish steps, 3 guys among a million other young boys and girls.

Back at the Spanish Steps

Dinner was a take out - but from Formula 1 none the less, one of the busiest pizzerias that I have seen, with an interest in - well F1 not less, and great pizzas at fantastic rock bottom prices... i really hope we had the luxury of sitting down and eating there.
Sitting back in Termini I looked back at Rome, a bustling busy city - maybe our accomodation may not have been all that pleasant but the attractions that Rome provided sure compensated for the same.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 10 (Roma) [October 3, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:55:00.000-05:00

This was the day for Vatican City, and I thought we should make an early start. Using the train system (very crowded but quite convenient) we arrived an hour and half before opening time, to be jostling for the 300^th odd position in the queue. Before long it had started drizzling, and looking at the ‘blockbuster’ queue I was quite happy that we were 300^th at least.If anything would bother me this day and I will admit it upfront, were the crowds. I am not saying that I am claustrophobic, and will readily admit that I was just like the rest of the tourists. But there is something to be said about being pushed and bumped around all along. We first moved through the hall of tapestries and into the hall of maps.

The ceiling adorning the Hall of Tapestries

A Cartographers paradise

This turned out to be quite interesting as we tried to figure out what region of Europe (or Asia) the maps indicated. Given that it was in Italian (or Latin) it was quite intriguing and good pastime to evaluate the accuracy of the maps, which improved in geographical correctness as time passed. We then moved (no – were herded) into the Raphael’s rooms – which had some exquisite artwork. I think one of the paintings which impressed me the most was the one in which most of the great thinkers of the age (Aristotle, da Vinci etc) were represented, and how the paintings seamlessly merged facts (such as background architecture etc) from diverse eras i.e. a wedding feast of Cana would have Ancient Rome as a backdrop with people wearing contemporary clothing – certainly a unique aspect of the art. Finally we moved onto the Sistine Chapel. No words can quite describe the art which adorns every inch of this hall, with nearly all the ‘5-star’ painters having something to do with it. Would certainly be really cool to be able to sit in quiet contemplation here – I guess as a commoner and not the pope this was not going to be. After some time our aching necks indicated it was time to leave – and we moved to the cafeteria for some hot slices of pizza (at a acceptable price) for lunch. When we got out – it was pouring, and it was something to see the devotion, or stupidity of the 3000+ people who were still standing in line which extended several blocks. We took refuge in Vatican City and waited it out – spending time to write my last set of postcards. Apparently the Vatican City postal service is different from Italia post – which also means that it is far more efficient – so that’s exactly what I did.

well.... I am at least dry!!!!

Finally the waiting got frustrating, and if this was going to be my pilgrimage then it had to be done. Anil grudgingly agreed – and rigged one of my garbage bags as a raincoat, much to the amusement of those around us. But I guess God did take pity and as we got into the queue the rain died down. But Samir was not going to let an empty canvas away – not after all the art seen in the previous hours. So he deftly look out his brush – and began his Samirus Touches Anilius masterpiece right there – with the garbage bag adorning Anil serving as the canvas. The results are for all to see.

Original 'artwork' by Samirus Gindus - 'Last judgement between Samirus and Anilus'

Another interesting aspect was the stylish Roman carabinieri – driving Lamborghini… golf carts around the place. I guess its all about the Italian machismo. Anyways – once we got through all the security we realized we were in the wrong line, and instead of going into the church we were led into the crypt. But it was not all in vain. Among the grand tombs of the popes of yore was a simple marble marker – that of one of my heroes: Pope John Paul II. His tomb lay there – nothing spectacular in architecture yet attracting this huge line. Couple of other ‘attractions’ were the supposed tomb of St. Petrus and the colorful Swiss guards. In our next attempt we entered the basilica – which was well – just as I had seen and imagined it from television. It had all the trappings of power, style and pomp – although I may have hoped if there could also have been some quiet and piece. Due to this, in someway, ended up preferring the other churches we had, and would end up seeing – it gave me the opportunity for some quiet reflection which is what I would have loved to do.

After our Vatican Tour

After we exited at sunset – we decided to walk along the Tiber to grab some delicious gelato.

Along Castel San Angelo

It ended up as a long but lovely meander through the streets of Rome – with glances at some of the sights we would move through the next day – the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon etc. The gelato was good, the Trevi fountain crowded – and full of obnoxious Americans… who were playing around with a simple Bangladeshi trying to sell them some flowers and whose behavior was downright disgusting.

Trevi Fountain

Samir realized our dinner at a hole in the wall which had the reputation of providing Rome’s finest pizza – and they certainly did not disappoint. We washed it down with some ‘aqua potable’ – with the ‘vino’ restricted for the hotel. It was the end of my pilgrimage.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 9 (Roma) [October 2, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:54:00.000-05:00

We arrived at Rome using the express train which was very comfortable by around 22:00 hrs on October 1. The rail system I must say throughout our journey was excellent – with the trains running on time, and pretty comfortable.
The sleeper coaches are similar to that found in the trains in India – with bed/blanket and a simple breakfast thrown in for good measure. Given that you have paid $32 for it I would think it’s a wee bit expensive, but if it gets you across a country through the night – I would not have it any other way.
Rome – first impressions… it is like Bombay railway station, Loud, Noisy, an air of confusion around the same and many surly characters all around. In some way the description provided by other travelers in guide books matched perfectly. Obviously we were accosted by more than one shady individuals regarding accommodation – but given our success in this aspect till now we marched along to find ‘Friendship place’… if only we had known better.
We walked along the road – and couldn’t see any sign of it, no neon sign, info desk – nothing. For some reason this wasn’t too good a sign. We then came upon a Laundromat where we met a sleazy looking character (a Bangladeshi) who for some reason was expecting us – and guided us to a big door – with a small, non-lit, grimy sign indicating ‘Friendship place’. It was on the 4th floor of a building with an elevator that could fit – none… at least not with our backpacks. After trudging up we were met by another Bangladeshi named Joshua who invited us in.
First impressions – horrible. 3 big rooms stuffed with 5-7 bunk beds in each. One small reception desk, with a fridge on one side, and three teeny-weeny toilets nearby. Joshua (I would think he had changed his name from something Muslim to make it more ‘tourist friendly’) seemed to be sickeningly nice in nature and for some reason his mannerism unsettled me. Anyways in a nutshell the place seemed to be a sham.
But we were tired so pretty much decided to hit the bed soon... after taking a bath which involved standing below a shower which dribbled water – felt more like Chinese torture than a bath, and took at least half an hour per person. The only saving grace were decent roommates in the form of a couple of Australians and a Japanese guy who were pretty friendly.
Next day we started a bit late – the breakfast of stale bread and coffee did not appeal to me and we stopped by the local store for a cappuccino.
Well this was Rome – and Rome meant the Catholic Church. We first stopped by Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the biggest basilicas in Rome. Each church had something distinct and in this case it was the gilded ceiling from gold obtained as repayment for Marco Polo’s voyage to India. From there we proceeded to the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument – a gargantuan building built in memory of a monarch who was simple as the building was pompous. It housed the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

Vittorio Emmanuel Monument - being the simple man he way... he may have been ashamed at this monument

The building however provided us a birds-eye view of ancient Rome stretching right to the Colosseum on one side and Catholic Rome with St.Peter’s basilica in the distance. That was one of the hallmarks of all of Italy. From atop a high vantage point all you will ever see is a maze of houses and small building with scattered domes of churches sprouting from among them.
From there it was onto Ancient Rome – starting at Trajan’s column.

Temple to Mars - but Augustus Caesar in honor of his uncle Julius Caesar

Now what you can see of the entire place including Caesars Palace, and Trajans’ markets are only ruins but you cannot help but imagine how it must have been during the time of the Roman Empire.

Rumor has it that Nero watched Rome burning from the top of the tower in the background

Moving on to the Forum you come across a vast expanse of ruins with several temples, arches and ruins of halls.

Temple to Augustus and Faustina - the best preserved of all the forums

We could only imagine what it must have been 2000 years ago. Interesting bits were that of Julius Caesar who lived in the temple of the Gods and built another temple for people to worship – him… small wonder the republicans were crying hell and high water.

Caesar's residence

Another is the arches of Septus Severus, Constantine which were used as models for arches down the centuries.

Arch of Septus Severus
and of Titus

After a casual walk through the ruins (with interesting stops at the Meeting hall, the tomb of Julius Caesar and the stupid soldier who threw himself into an abyss in order to ‘protect’ Rome) we picked up tickets for the Colosseum and Palatine Hill before moving on under the triumphant arch of Titus for lunch. By then the sky was pretty overcast and the Bangladesh boys were moving in on the people offering them umbrellas. In someway it was a bit irritating – similar to the beggars back home. In others – I wondering what made scores of them (seemingly illegal given the way they ran when the police were around) come down and settle in Rome. Maybe I was just being prejudiced – but they did seem a bit out of place there. It then began to pour – which was not a good thing since a) we were hungry and b) the great marcus Anilius had not brought along a raincoat. Adding to the misery was the fact that around the Colosseum there did not seem to exist any value-for-money restaurant, and finally the sandwich what we took was cold, stale and did not adequately serve towards filling our stomachs.

The Colosseum

Our passes gave us quick entry to the Colosseum (again would say it was simply kudos to all our research into just these miniscule details) and we wandered around – admiring the piece of architecture – built for the sole purpose of torture – of man and beast. Just served to indicate that man was capable of great things – though he did many of those for destructive purposes.

Photography practice with the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument in the background

Trudging back we climbed towards the Palatine hills which housed the nobility during the Roman era. Augustus et al all lived in pomp and splendor here – in huge houses, with adjoining baths, fountains, and gymnasiums. Although this is all now in ruins – one cannot help but wonder the grandeur that was Rome.

St Peters - as viewed from the Palatine Hills

On our way down we passed alongside Circus Maximus – the racetrack which is pretty much non-existent and under a huge aqueduct spanning a road – meant to carry water for the Roman populace.
Lastly we moved a bit south, fed on a gelato towards the church of St. John the Lateran – a previous papal residence. I guess I can say it is one of the many huge churches – and I think serves as one of the primary churches of my faith too. Walking back home alongside the railway station we snacked on some Italian pasta and pizza from a local store – nothing special about the food, although the bakers and cashier were all – Bangladeshi. Guess one day I just will have to ask as to how they all converged to this country.
Bath was once again a very tedious affair – with the droplet system just serving to get me irritated, but with a little ‘vino’ it was all very good. Had been a tiring day and I promptly fell asleep.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 8 (Florence) [October 1, 2005]

2005-12-23T08:53:00.000-05:00

A room with a view

After another hearty breakfast we managed to make an early exit and headed (yes walking – we always walked) to the Barghello gallery. The gallery is the preserve of most of Michelangelo works along with others of Bruneleschi and Donatello. It’s primarily a museum of sculpture. As with all other buildings the Barghello has its own unique history being used as civic building and a prison. There are some stunning terracotta sculptures and marbles ones of Mercury, Hercules and other Roman and Greek heroes from mythology. Just seeing the sculptures makes one marvel at the heightened level of artistic excellence during the Renaissance period. The busts of the emperors – the Italian rulers (especially Cosimo I) were obsessed in portraying themselves as Roman Emperors – by distinguished artists were pretty good. I though the ones of Cellini were one of the best – especially those of Persues and Medusa. However the ‘Adam and Eve’ resembled a stroll in the park… a site of mediocrity in a hall of excellence.
It was then on to the church of Santa Croce (Cross) – a façade of green and white marble which was similar to the one found at Santa Maria Novella, and apparently built in the 18th century (a few centuries after the church was consecrated). It is like all the churches we saw spectacular insides – with several chapels and tombs dedicated to different saints and bishops along the recesses. One of the most visited tombs is of course that of Michelangelo – which was designed by… himself.

Here lies the grand master...

By then it was lunch time – and following our gastronomic adventures went to the San Ambroglio market for another helping of good native food, washed down with a swig of the local vino. We happened to meet a British woman who chatted up with us sitting at the table – yeah here you just about grabbed the closest empty bench near you and sat down. Made interesting conversation with the people next to you for sure. Hmmm, apart from the bread and vino and some kind of cutlets and pork I do not remember the third dish that we ordered. Anyways whatever it was – as like yesterday it was good – great value for money. At the end of it all – we all staggered out into the warm Italian sun – awash with wine, a good hearty meal and some nice company. Aaaaah now for a nice siesta… one interesting titbit about the way things are carried out in places like these – you get a huge pitcher of wine with markers indicating levels on it. At the end of the meal – you pay for the amount you have drunk… which like a credit card you end up drinking more than you think you need. I don’t think we were tipsy, but lethargic most certainly. However there was no time to waste, and with help from Rivoli Gelato (the BEST I have eaten – I think I had scaggitella, cappuccino and pistachio combo) we meandered through the narrow streets of the centro storico (city center) to reach the square housing the gallery Uffizi (Offices). All along the square were interspersed sculptures of Neptune, a copy of the David, the original 'rape of the sabines' among others.

at Palazzo Vecchio - with Neptune in the background

Although you may think we did just that eat-see-walk-eat (well we did do a lot of that!) we did take time to read about the history of the place.

The Vasari passageway ... everything here has its own fascinating story to tell...

From the secret Vasari passageway which enabled the duke to escape when he was under siege to the historical events that shaped the Florentine past.

Looking out from the Uffizi

The Uffizi (yes you most DEFINITELY need advance tickets for this one) is the one of the largest painting galleries I have ever seen. More than 60 odd rooms which are impossible – yes impossible to see in a day. We had actually marked what we wanted to see, and pretty much stuck to that. It’s a choice we made – either cursorily walk aimlessly from room to room (listening to lectures from guides along the way), or just concentrate and appreciate a few selected works of art. This approach suited us just fine. Of course there are a few must sees like Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’ and others like Giotto, Simone Martini, Piero della Francesca, Fra Angelico, Filippo Lippi, Botticelli, Mantegna, Correggio, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Michelangelo and Caravaggio.

Looking over the ArnoThe 'atypical snap' - Anil just starting to smile... Sam looking constipated and me peering in the background

By the time we got out it was way past 19:00 hours and we reluctantly moved out picking up our bags on our way to the railway station stopping by a park alongside the river to enjoy the last remnants of the day. It had been a long day, and in some ways Firenze had clung to us in a way no other place had done. It had a bit of everything great food, fantastic heritage and museums to show off, the best girls I had ever seen in Europe (no doubt of that) and oooh yes – the best Gelato. This is one place I will most definitely return to… someday.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 7 (Florence) [September 30, 2005]

2005-12-22T09:26:00.000-05:00

We arrived at Firenze late in the night – and managed to get to the hostel around midnight. Thankfully it was walking distance from the station, after walking around with 35 lbs. strapped to your back on cobblestone streets (which seem to be in every major city that we visited) you want the hostel to be near the station! And it was a pleasant surprise indeed – quite art noveau to be precise – with brightly painted frescos adorning every inch of space and invitations to add your own graffiti too!!! Certainly spoke volumes of the kind of stuff we would be doing here for sure. Along with a counter clerk with shall we say odd sense of humor and his huge shaggy dog – we knew in an instant this would be a pleasant experience. Coupled with an in-house Laundromat, free internet… i for one certainly wasn’t complaining. We got a lovely room to ourselves – all for around Euro 30 a night – which rocked.

Archi Rossi - ROCKS!!!

It over-looked a small enclosed courtyard – which I think is quite common around these parts and was very well equipped. The bathroom also came with a ‘bidet’… must be getting a lot of French tourists around here.
 Next morning after a free and filling breakfast (eggs, bacon, bread, croissants and cappuccino – well yeah I guess we pigged but we would require it for our city walks for sure) we set off on our Firenze adventures.
 First stop was the Duomo – towering over entire Firenze. Now come to think of it – Firenze, Venice all these towns must have looked pretty much the same for the last 200-400 years, nearly all the buildings look old and it has a very quaint feel to it.

Duomo

The Duomo has as its main attractions its campanile, the baptistery doors and the dome itself – a masterpiece of Bruneleschi which at its time draw awe even from greats such as Michelangelo. Anyways, after wearily looking at the line waiting for the Duomo to open, and resisting the temptation to climb up the Campanile (you have to PAY to climb 500 odd steps…. but I guess that’s the only way to maintain these treasures) we took our customary photographs outside and well … joined the line.

That was a looong climb up... bumped my head multiple times.... medevial Italians must have been short people

But…. 400 vertigo inducing steps later – realized what all those people were eagerly awaiting to see – the huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggge dome with the frescos of the last judgment in vivid imagery painted by Giorgio Vasariand and Federico Zuccari. Small wonder people used to go to church so regularly then – the clergy would have got them half scared to death by indicating what was in store for them if they didn’t… A panoramic view awaited us when we stepped out onto the exterior of the dome, and then could appreciate the towering spectacle that was built – just as a show of one-upmanship over the cathedral of Pisa.

Firenze - with the Campanile in the foreground

One thing I did realize – even being a Catholic – that not all that was done in the name of religion at that time was remotely religious, being more motivated by greed and a insatiable hunger for power, resulting in epic struggles across generations between the noble class of the principle states in Italy for domination of the papacy – and with it the authority over the lands of Italy. Thankfully now in the recent times with people like John Paul II we have moved towards a more spiritual papacy.
 After the Duomo – whose interiors are also spectacular we moved on to Ghiberti’s baptistery doors (or at least the imitations of it) of whom many called the ‘Gateways to Paradise’ – and rightly so. The 3D metal work was truly reaching its forte during this period – and Ghiberti’s winning showpiece is one of its hallmarks. All adorned as scenes from the Bible in vivid detail with each relief detailing an entire story.
 By then the walking, climbing and potting about had made us hungry and the every resourceful Samir guided us to the Mercato Centrale (Firenze’s equivalent to Bombay’s Crawford market). A huge enclosed market selling mainly vino, vegetables and meat… lots and lots of meat – all on display. I guess living in India has made one used to such displays – but well the Italians seem to have a fetish for the innards of animals too .

aaah here we are - Restaronto Nerbone (circa 1872)

 But that did not deter the will of three young adventurers who were determined – when in Firenze do as the Florentines do.
 So from the local bustling food store three dishes were ordered – Spezzatine (that’s some beef gravy), Trippe (muscular lining of cow’s stomach) and arista (that’s pork) along with some bread ‘pane’ washing it down with some vino. The food surprisingly was quite flavorful – not too different from Indian type curries, and so much different from the typical American Italian mindset of spaghetti and pizza for sure. And check this out – all for under Euro 15… now that’s what I call a real bargain.

The Fiorentine spread

 After a nice lunch (now I can really picture why Italians need a siesta… after all that food its difficult to walk around in the sun) we moved on (helped a bit with some gelato of course) to the Accademia which housed possibly one of the most famous statues of all time – Michelangelo’s David. Again, advance booking helped us avoid the line which was 3-4 blocks long. Given our tight schedule, I should say planning was a key part of our travel.
 Although the Accademia has many treasures, David is just something else… towering above everything around it, Michelangelo’s masterpiece built from marble the other sculptors rejected is quite something. Interesting sideshows are the computer animations of the restoration of David, and half finished slaves, depicting his sublime ability to induce a sense of emotion and movement in his art. This was Michelangelo at his best – since he considered himself to be first and foremost a sculptor and less of a painter.
 Before I forget, there was also a Ferrari store near the Accademia filled with all sorts of F1 memorabilia highlighting Ferrari’s performance over the years in racing. In addition to the ever-present limited edition scale models (at full scale prices) there were actual parts, and development designs (exhaust pipes etc.) of previous championship cars. Oddly the most recent season was absent, perhaps reflecting Ferraris’ dismal performance this year.
 We then trudged to the Boboli gardens of Florence – but arrived a wee bit too late, and after some aimless people watching moved on trying to find other similar such garden spots. However after a few tries and being evicted from private gardens just moved on over the river and sat on a bridge reminiscing over the days events.

Along the Arno river

On our way back helped with some ciabatta bread we stopped by St. Maria Novella, one of the churches in the vicinity. In the evening we went out again to eat… this time the food was strictly ok in nature – and cost a whole lot more… sadly markets were closed otherwise there were no guesses where we would have headed.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 6 (Venice) [September 29, 2005]

2005-12-21T15:56:00.000-05:00

We arrived at Venezia St. Lucia. 7:36 AM. The guard/ ticket checker was a surly Italian who kept waking us up for small things – and early morning was at hand to drag away our pillows and blankets even though some of us were still sleeping. A fellow passenger, an Italian felt embarrassed and apologized on his behalf.

Need to leave backpacks in lockers or in left-luggage. This place is so dependent upon tourists and so ‘under-industried’ that instead of lockers they have manned stations – of course which cost a great deal more. Also our Raclette cheese and meat had got stale – and when Swiss cheese’s smell – they REALLY smell. So we had to make do with the typical croissant breakfast what we got on the train along with the bread – which was the only thing that survived. After making reservation to leave Venice in the evening, we picked up the simple guide map of Venice – the better detailed map was – you guessed it – to be paid for!

Outside the railway station

First views of Venice – just like any other bustling city outside of a railway station – except instead of streets you have waterways. It was a bit dull when we got out – with an overcast sky. All around you will also catch glimpses of instructions on ‘what to do when it floods’ and ramps kept on the side to provide elevated walkways when this occurs. Thankfully nothing like that was forecast during our visit – since the water itself didn’t look very clean. Everywhere you look – everyone is talking loudly – waving hands and all – just like one would see in an Italian cooking show…… aaah – let me continue on my travelogue and get back to those other things a bit later.
We then caught a vaporetto from St Lucia stop (Ferrovia). The church seems grand – but again – we had lots to see in a short day – so didn’t go inside. We got the tickets validated and after a small issue of standing in the wrong line were on our way to Piazza San Marco.

Piazza San Marco

Interesting fact is that there is only one Piazza in Venice – since others are all called ‘Campo’ – a sign of the importance of San Marco. We disembarked from the vaporetto at San Marco/ Vallaresso (ah forgot one thing – toilets fare is included in the vaparetto ticket – or you will be paying a Euro every-time you wish to go to answer nature's call). Basilica di San Marco – this is possibly one the most unique sights in the whole of Europe. The church is well a juxtaposition of Byzantine and Gothic architectures – as if the designers wanted to have a little bit of everything. The result is truly grotesque on the outside. Besides that all you see in the whole piazza are pigeons, tourists, more pigeons and yes … lots more tourists – whole busloads of them. Never ever seen so many tourists in an enclosed place.
But on closer examination – the church interiors – and the gilded insides highlighting the story of Joseph is very intricate and pretty. So too the horses of San Marco –and his Assyrian Lion – which for all accounts is around 2500 years old. We took a walk around the interior to enjoy the mosaics/ pavement. The Loggia dei Cavalli has the horses of San Marco. The sanctuary and the Pala d’Oro we were unable to see since they opened for public viewing only in the afternoon.

The Doge and St.Mark's Lion

Palazzo Ducale – ‘the Doge’s palace’ – has an interesting history – including that of the guy who would slide on a rope from the campanile to the palazzo to give the Doge’s wife a rose or something akin to it. What we figured out were that the pigeon’s were a Doge’s wife’s pets – seen as a way to reduce her boredom – now I view them as just a nuisance. Finally we walked around the Piazza (with multiple ‘orchestral groups’ playing outside restaurants who’s price may be equivalent to my US ticket’ and read a little bit about the the Campanile and the Torre dell’Orologio.
The next reads like how Sam gave it in his itinerary – cause literally you feel you are walking in circles – there is campo with a church (or multiple churches) – alley – bridge over canal – campo with a church. Really that’s how it looks to an outsider.

A chaotic canal... all in a day in Veneto

So the map is CRUTIAL. We then walked to Dorsoduro heading west towards Ponte d’Accademia. On the way we passed San Moise and the shoppingng area of the Calle Larga XXII Marzo, then turning left on Calle del dose and then walk to the waterfront. Finally we walked down the Campo Santo Stefano to the Ponte dell’Accademia.

See the bridge - its actually part of a church

I do not remember going in the church – but as Sam pointed out, it was the only church to be built over a canal in the whole of Veneto. Obviously by this time we were hungry – and had our ‘brunch pet pooja’ with Ice cream at Paolin near the church. The church has a beautiful roof and doorway. The interior is said to be very peaceful.
we moved on to the next island – the Dorsoduro, Crossing over towards the Accademia via the Ponte. Then through more of the alleyways we moved on to see a glimpse – which was in vain to watch the gondola construction at the Squero. By then it was high noon and it became the hunt for a reasonably priced restaurant for a meal – and trust me in Venice – its bloody difficult to get that. After rounding a school (next to the water obviously) with half the school kids standing outside and nonchalantly smoking (apparently its machismo – both for guys and coolio I presume – for the girls) twice we finally spotted a pizzeria (San Trovaso) mentioned in the guides and had a couple for lunch.

Santa Maria Salute - built after a plague

After tanking up it was more walking left at Spirito Santo, north past Guggenheim museum, Crossing the Rio della Fornace past San Gregorio we arrived at Santa Maria Salute – considered to be a beautiful church. – and yes the basilica – built in honor of the Virgin Mary after Venice had recovered from the plague is truly cool inside. We then continued to Punta della Dogana for the fantastic views of San Marco and rest of Venice.

A Targhetto - a poor man's gondola

Now finally we had to do something on the water – and since the gondolas are terribly overpriced – for our small pockets we did the next best thing and caught a Traghetto (small water taxi) to Santa Maria de Giglio – it did save us at least half an hour instead of having to find the nearest bridge. Getting off the traghetto we returned to Campo Santa Maria del Giglio.

Another of Anil's timeless classics

We then walked through a maze of narrow... really narrow alleyways (always fun to do it this way) we arrived at Scala del Bovolo.

The 'Snail Staircase'

This is one of the worlds first spiral staircases in masonry – the world Scala Bovolo literally translates to staircase of the snail – guess it appears kinda like that when you look at it.
We then began the loop towards the Rialto market - one of the oldest in Europe.

The bustling Rialto Marketplace

Oldest market in Europe – possibly very true – also very crowded. The church of San Giacomo di Rialto is the oldest in Venice. 11th century. I think I liked the peace of the church more than anything else in the crowded marketplace. The church’s clock is inaccurate. Opposite the church, spot the Gobbo di Rialto (hunchback). For all you know Marco Polo may have come here – since it is also the church for the seafarers.

San Giacomo di Rialto church

Moving along the opera house (world's first public opera house - 1636) we arrived at Campo San Polo. Campo San Polo is largest campo after the piazza. This was nice to just sit and see – kids running and playing – soccer is important, and roller blading comes close. Parents talking amongst each other with one eye on their kids. The older generation pretty much sitting – enjoying the warmth of the sun and engaged in what looked like gossip.

The Friari church

Frari is a massive Gothic church – and massive it really is… super duper huge. A bit drab on the outside – with a plain brick façade, but a glimpse inside revealed something else. I guess by now we had seen a good many churches – and it was slowing getting evening – so we moved back to the station – then thinking it would be boring to just sit at the station – we simply went back to the piazza and sat down with a bottle of wine and enjoyed the true Venetian life – bereft of tourists for awhile.

The real Venice.. simple, unadulterated fun

We then headed back to the station – spending the last hours sitting by the waterside – with our slow motion camera at work… 

Europe on a shoestring - Day 5 (Lausanne) [September 28, 2005]

2005-12-21T09:30:00.000-05:00

Had to get up at 05:00 to catch the train to Lausanne at 06:55. By now we were used to the early rising so had no problems. I had chosen the route of the Goldenpass train – using the normal route – that way we could have the scenery, without the extra expense. However due to flooding the Interlaken (W) – Zweisimann leg could not take place by train and we had to change at Spiez and then change again to a bus at Wimmis. The driver was a nice guy (invited me to sit up front since no-other seats were available – that bought terrific views) and kept me entertained with a continuous banter about the life around there (he was a tour driver from Bodingen, a stop along the way). Most of the people were engaged in agriculture, tourism or dairy based industries. The word 'Zweisimann' is derived from the intersection of two (Zweiss) rivers in the Saanan valley. He talked about cows and sheep returning to pasture, flooding issues which devastated the place (the damage was very visible at locations), and his skiing and driving adventures.

We then switched to the train to take us to Montreux (the playplace of the rich including Charles Chaplin). The other duo met an Indian couple who got in at Gstaad. They live in Napean Sea Road in Bombay and come for a month every year. However I preferred to sleep through part of the journey – with Samir getting his nth ‘Oberfuhrer Joe sleeps’ snaps.

shhhhhhhhhhhhh.... the Oberfuhrer sleeps

As we arrived toward Lausanne you could see the flora changing to vineyards with huge Chateau on the top of the hills. aaaah - what a life, you can go from a beautiful lakeside to the lofty alps to vineyards..... all in the matter of a few hours.

Vineyards dotting the hillsides along our train journey

However, both Lausanne and Montreux are not as pretty as I initially thought. Montreux seems overrun with more mordern buildings that has pretty much torn away the old-town charm so nicely preserved by Zurich and Luzern. Lausanne is said to be the San Fransisco of Switzerland – and looking at the sloping roads all around I would believe it.

Car of Lausanne - well the Smart Car of course.... you can't but help be attracted by its appeal

After dumping our luggage (and me rehearsing the little French I knew) we moved on to see the place. I had determined it to be a more relaxing tour this time – so we could have some breather between countries.

St.Francois church

First we went to see St. Francois church. It is a beautiful quiet church on the side of a busy street – and we came back to it later to hear a beautiful organ recital by the resident organist – who was pretty much practicing in the quiet of the place. Walking through the street market we picked up some grapes to eat along the way. (apparently called raisins in a la François).

After that we went to see Notre Dame cathedral currently undergoing massive reconstruction outside – and it’s the classic gothic structure on the outside – huge, massive and towering spires overlooking the city.

The place is so large - that the only way I could get a full shot was to take the photograph from a few blocks away

I thought the best part of the cathedral was the stained glass windows - very detailed filled with picture stories on the life of Christ and the saints

Anil, though had a field day in this church.... one of the best known examples of Gothic architecture. He was at his 'Gothic' best, and immediately shifted into 'sepia tint' mode and gave us his gothic renditions... with us .... and Anil and the 'Dark Lord of the Sith'.... and yes - that is the photograph of the day!

The Sith Lord beckons

We went down to see Chateau St. Marie (now a government office), picked up some lunch (very average sandwich – I thought the bread was stale with goat cheese, ham (jambon)) on the side.

Chateau St. Marie

This was the first time that the Rough guides had not served us well – the restaurant which they had recommended as ‘inexpensive’ was certainly quite the opposite – and by then we were quite hungry and tired. Sitting outside the cathedral I composed the first of my postcards to be sent out to my near and dear ones.

Hotel de Ville

After relaxing for some time we walked down to Rimini palace (now housing the university) and Hotel de Ville (nothing special, all over-hype), bought some breakfast for the next day (Racqlet chees, baguette and bananas along with jambon) and walked down to Ouchy along the coast. It’s a nice seaside place and we walked along the pier and sat down and basically ‘chilled’. By the time we got back there was no other place open (at least not within our budget so we bought food from a Nepali Asian joint) and after a 1l wine we caught the train from Lausanne to Venezia at 23:20.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 4 (Jungfrau Region) [September 27, 2005]

2005-12-19T12:25:00.000-05:00

Thankfully today it was Sam's day to get up early, its another Joe thing I guess, make sure everyone gets up on time, then go in for some more time of shut-eye .

This day we were going to Mt. Schilthorn hence we left at 07:50 to Murren via funicular train (it is basically a carriage pulled up by cable at steep inclination angles) with a change at Gustalp. Cogwheel trains by contrast have a central 'cog', which serves as a middle rail and a locking system. This train we certainly made just in time. We realized later that this is the last year for the funicular system, to be replaced by a cable car system due to shifting earth plate.

Every day on the train it was 'check time' - batteries - check, functional camera - check, water - check, warm clothes - check

Moved on to Murren and picked up the Schilthorn tickets. However through the cc TV we realized that the visibility was very low at the top of the mountain (a below freezing too) so we went to a local cafe for coffee and croissants (again laced with chocolate no doubt).

Another interesting observation - in Switzerland all measurements are in deci-liters, in Italy - in centi-litres.

Schilthorn with the restaurant Piz Gloria on top

After tanking up with breakfast we took the cableway up two levels to Mt. Schilthorn. At the peak it was 0°C with a 25 km/h wind. By then the skies had cleared and the views were magnificent.

This photograph is significant since it enabled us to view from a distance the main waypoints of our previous days trek
The panoramic view as seen from Schilthorn

Along with us were a Russian and British tour group, it seemed that this time of the year most of the people were at work, and the majority of people of vacation seemed to be retired folk - a phenomenon repeated throughout Europe.

and yeah... a photograph for the books - the three amigos at 10000 ft.

On the way down we struck up conversation with a Welsh person who had climbed up Schilthorn 50 years ago (before the cableway and the Bond movie were made). He was in his 60's maybe, but seemed to be an avid hiker having hiked in India, Peru among other areas. That's another thing I realized - that the people who had actually visited India, thought of it as a fascinating country with so much to offer, with a very well educated populace, and similar to all other places - struggling with its own unique problems.
On our way back we took the cable-down to Stechelberg and went to see the Trummulbach falls. It is here that the water from the glaciers of the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau (Ogre, Monk and Young Virgin) converge.

and yes - with well lit caves and walkways its quite a fun experience... the latter photograph showing lil' Anil

The Swiss have built a series of elevator shafts so you can see the waterfalls through 15 levels within the mountain itself. Got some amazing 'slow-shutter' photos of the waterfall including those of phosphorescence making the water a bright green. Thanks to a helpful American who lent me his tripod and helped me out, and to my dynamic duo for their patience.

and obviously - here is the finished producsuccinctlyamir put succintly put it... fast shutter... shutter... slow shutter

We had missed the bus - and just simply took the alpine valley walk to Lauterbrunnen, staring at cows, flowers, paragliders and the sheer cliffs along the way.

Pictures along the Alpine meadows

The walk was indeed quite nice. Crossing a stream, and moving along the valley we passed small houses with very pretty flower and vegetable gardens - a glimpse of which are illustrated in the former photographs. Above us we could see paragliders jumping off Wengen towards Stechelberg. All made for a sweet walk.

Staubbach Falls

As we neared the village we finally had a daylight view of the falls which we could see through our window at the hostel. At 1000ft it is the highest falls in Switzerland - to give you an idea what that would mean... the water takes a good 12 s to hit the base!!!

Rosti and Brats - German standard - totally unhealthy... but very filling

Back at Hotel Oberland we had a meal of Bratwurst, Rosti and beer from Alex.... Now incase I made forgot to explain Hotel Oberland and Alex let me rectify it here. This was a hotel which was - quintessentially, quitessentially British. Alex, our waitress - too was from England who had been lured to this exotic place, and had just stayed put.
The day was certainly not over and the three amigos took the train to Kleine Schneidegg (va Wengen) to begin our last hike along the sheer face of the Eiger to Eigergletscher.

At Kleine Schneidegg station

It would be just a 1-1.5 hr hike but held the promise of a good hike with sights to aid us along.
It is at Kleine Schneidegg that the train to Jungfrau starts, and the trail crisscrossed the tracks on occasion. Since we were loathe to spend the 100 odd greenbacks we decided that a hike alongside should give us a similar view - for free.
However by now the visibility was steadily decreasing, and walking along a steep path, on the side of a mountain which is famous for its avalanches with not much to see in front of you is a bit disconcerting. The picture taken of Anil and Samir with the mountain behind says it all - the mountain all of 3000+ m in height is not visible.

Would you believe the picture below is what should have been as a background of the picture above... There is a sense of excitement (or recklessness) as you walk along the edge of a mountain with little or no visibility. But excitement or not - I sure would have appreciated some of the breathtaking views which would have enveloped us in fairer weather.

But well I guess we could not grumble - being tocontinuousaving five continous days of sunshine at this time of the year was quite nearly impossible. But yes - the trek was enjoyable, and I couldn't complain about a little bad weather, and to be honest - had it rained .... then we would have been in some trouble. We finally arrived at Eigergletscher to be met with no visibility at all.

We sat at the station hoping against hope for some improvement, but there was none to be found and we took the train back to Kleine Schneidegg. It was a good hike - one for posterity.
On the way back we noticed a few novelties - which were duly recorded, such as the mating of Switzerland's finest and India's prettiest; in the form of a Longines timepiece alongside the lissome Aishwarya Rai.

Now, the slumber. Apparantly Samir found it quite difficult to doze off inspite of being tired while Anil and I.... well what can I say.

Samir hence proceeded in making it rise to the level of an art form, and I am left with a collection of photographs.... in deep meditation :-). The product is on display below... on the way up to Eigergletscher and on the way back.

At the railway station we ran across an Indian film crew shooting an ad for Danish yogurt toapparentlyn India - apparantly the more exotic the locale - the more yoghurt you sell.... we Indians are such buffs for all things 'foreign'.

The three of us along the main (and only street) in Lauterbrunnen

By now we were exhausted and back at home and had some packaged food (cheap stuff) with some wine to help us along.

Some pasta based dish washed down with a glass of Swiss wein

Pouring over plans for the next day

We thanked our hosts - the family of Martha, Albert and Stefan who run Village Hostel and crashed for the night. Our Alpine adventure had come to its end.

Europe on a shoestring - Day 3 (Jungfrau Region) [September 26, 2005]

2005-12-17T12:24:00.000-05:00

Up at 05:00 (my turn to get up first my decision of time - but the time not to my liking ). We were all ready at 06:30. Caught the Lauterbrunnen - Wilderswil train at 07:11

Went on a rushed shopping spree of bread, cheese, salami, chocolates, croissants and coffee to take on our hike at the local supermarket.

The Wilderswil - Schynige Platte cogwheel

Took the cogwheel train up to Schynige Platte. Seems that we were the only tourists and apart from some railroad workers the train was pretty empty. We had been forewarned about bad weather and had taken wet weather gear along. I guess on hindsight it may have been forecasts of bad weather, possible trail damage and the early hour that no one was there on the train.
It was an old classic carriage that wound its way up slowly at inclination of around 30°. We reached our destination at 08:42. It was an amazing journey especially as the various peaks came into view.

Arriving at Schynige Platte

Using Samir's trusty compass and a map we were able to figure out which peak was which. From this elevation even the twin lakes of Thunersee and Brienzsee were are pretty sight, both dark bluish green in color.
At Schynige Platte without much ado we began our hike, the only people to do so - there was no one around. It had a dual distinction in the guidebook, that of -the classic Alpine hike and the longest one too at 06:10 hours in duration. It's a classic Joe thing, just go for the bigger hikes from the word go - stupid or not I do not know, however we were there - and the only direction to go was forward. In retrospect maybe I was the least capable of the three of us to physically do it, but again, I guess I had to prove a point to myself.

With Thunerese in the background

The views along the trek were absolutely spectacular! No other words or pictures could do justice to the visuals before our eyes. We moved through dense cloud cover, through effects of ice-erosion (yes we saw the ice itself), kept climbing till we were above the tree line and along the ridge.

Our first halt (1:30 hrs into our 6:00 hr trek)

Stops were only for photographs, food (and yes Toblerone is definitely food!) and brief periods of rest. At one point early in the hike cows accosted us (bells around their neck) blocking the path.

Ooops... Cow obstruction up ahead - and the bull ain't to happy either

Not sure about the disposition of the Alpine creature - and definitely not wanting to irritate the bulls we had to cross them one by one. All this while we were all by ourselves, no one to spoil the views - just felt that we had the mountains all to ourselves.

The cows seemed to have the maximum 'patience' in this negotiation process... moving on only when they had their fill at that particular spot

The cows took about half an hour to cross as we 'negotiated' our way through the herd.

The terrain changed as we climbed higher - becoming more austere... brilliant!!!!

The clouds which had been over the horizon now enveloped us - making the progress a bit slower. It was one of the factors which I had gambled with - the weather. This also explained the fact that in the whole hike we may have encountered only 20 odd people - that too in the latter 3 hours of the trek. It had been raining - and I began to wonder if the risk was going to be worth it.

We could certainly do with some better visibility here...

After a steep climb we stopped for a second time for some 'pet pooja' in the form of cheese and chocolate. It's amazing what that stuff can do for you. More importantly the brief stops gave our legs some much needed respite.

Our second stop after Wattenhutte

Along the way we used the help of well designed markers to help us keep our pace. This turned out to be important given that the onward connections were dependent on finishing the trek in 7:00 hrs (including time for lunch etc.) else we would have to undertaken another 2:50 downhill climb towards Grindenwald.

Marking our progress

After a few hours of walking to mist and fog and crossing a lone carpenter at Wattenhutte we came in sight of our final destination Â Mt. Faulhorn at 2686m at 14:00.

When they say this ascent is steep - the damn well mean it!!

There is a simple bread and breakfast up there - it is the oldest mountain hotel in Europe, with food being bought by helicopter (its THAT remote) and Mt. Faulhorn has the distinction of the longest sled runs - at 15kms each.
By then we had thought about it and decided that each country we visit should have a particular objective, in the case of Switzerland - it would be the 'Search for Heidi' 
We found her here, in the most unlikely of all places, in the form of a simple, cherubic, smiling alpine lass Sarnaya. We had met our objective - we had found our 'Heidi'. Between 'bitte' and 'dankeschon' we had a meal along with some of the restaurant stuff since we were absolutely famished. The meal she provided us was chick pea soup - which well tasted quite like dal.

Chickpea soup for the soul.... any warm food tastes soooo good after 4 hours of non-stop climbing

After that it was downhill all the way (btw downhill is as painful for the legs as uphill Â and doubly more dangerous, if anyone is doing it on a regular basis I sincerely suggest the walking poles Â very useful for balance in hamstringumstances).
So with the aching hamstrings giving way to the now aching quads we moved along passing the serene Alpine lake of Bachalpsee on our way to First.

Lake Bachalpsee (and yes - this definitely was not taken that day!)

Walking down towards our destination was done in record time - giving us a few moments to reflect on the events of the day - and share thoughts about the trek. When you are sitting high up on a mountain - philosophical thoughts seem to come naturally... wonder why??

Three very exhausted people after a long hike

At First we took at cable car to Grindenwald. This was another of our planned activities since I wanted to try out all the different combinations of travel while in Switzerland. That obviously included a cable car - and this 20 minute voyage was just what we needed. Amazing 360 degree panoramic view of the mountains and the valleys below while being safely cocooned within a small boxcar.

From First to Grindenwald

It's a very pretty town at the base of the mountains but felt too over-commercialized and crass for my taste (car parks, dance-clubs and shopping centers abound - not exactly the quintessential Switzerland of my dream).
Due to the recent floods the train service was no longer available from Grindenwald to Interlaken so it was again up to the trusty bus service to get us through. Along the way we saw the destruction wrecked by the floods (bridges blown away, trees uprooted, silt everywhere, and cleanup operations in full swing). Later on I got to know that apart from a lack of electricity for 3 days. Lauterbrunnen, thankfully escaped the damage caused by the rains.
On our way home from the station we saw large number of sheep being led by the shepherds down from the mountain pastures towards the winter stables in the valley.

Guess this was a touristy thing to do... but what they heck!!!

In the evening we had a poor mans dinner of cheese, bread and salami purchased from the Co-op, again washing it down with wine, which became quite a tradition during our stay in Europe. Helped digest the food, and along with a warm bath was the best elixir in ensuring a good, and immediate sleep. The low cost (max of 2Euro for a 1.5l bottle) also helped I guess.
Anil's dad called up that night I guess he was concerned what Anil was up-to :-) felt a little odd, thankfully my folks have enough faith in me to leave me alone when I am on vacation - I guess for them no news is good news. Maybe different people are just different. Not saying that I didn't email them occasionally -but call them, certainly NOT.
Since Anil was busy, Samir and I took the opportunity to walk through the village (its 15minutes walk) to see the Staubbach falls at the end of the village. It is lit up at night, which makes it a pretty sight.
Finally - more as an afterthought if any - enclosing what I could consider - 'one picture describing 1000 words - the Panaroma by Samir Ginde'

Europe on a shoestring - Day 2 (Luzern) [September 25, 2005]

2005-12-16T10:51:00.000-05:00

We were up at 05:30 to catch the train to Luzern and got in with 4minutes to spare!

Passed through Zug (highest per capita income in Scheiwz – possible Michael Schumacher lives here) onto Luzern (pronounced Lut-zern) at 08:45.
Dropped luggage in lockers and went to another recommendation – Paterre for breakfast. Finally got my German kickstarted with my ‘dankeschon and enschuldeggen’ correct – after patient repetitions from Anil.
Had mix Zmorge Fruhstruke (breakfast) of ham, salami, bread, cheese, tomato, cucumber, fruits and coffee. Point to note – the best coffee is served along with a piece of swiss chocolate – just gives that extra zang to the taste.

Fruhstruke @ Paterre

On the way back saw an Aston Martin (the James Bond car) – however it would be the city of the Alpha Romeo. It was one of our several favorite pastimes while in Europe - to pick up the car of the city. In someway it was a reflection of the wealth of the place too - Zurich with its opulence had the classy Mercedes while Luzern in reflection of its place in the pecking order had the Alpha.
Walked along Kappelbrucke (Chapel Bridge) with the Wasserturn (water-tower). Went along the Rous quay and back to the Jesuit church.

Kappelbrucke with its Wasserturn

Although the bridge was nearly burnt down a few hundred years ago - it has been painstakingly restored and some of the artwork including the painting below a more recent addition. Most of it seem to reflect stories from around the area - including the famous legend of William Tell.

One of the many paintings along the Kappelbrucke (I would think this one is newer)

Our casual strolls alongside the waterfront brought us to the Jesuit church. Nothing spectacular from the outside, apart from the onion domes - though the crowd outside alongwith a full marching band drew us to it. The interior was a complete opposite of the exterior - with huge vaulted ceiling and beautiful paintings. However what caught our attention was the celebration of mass with a full attendance of the cardinal to celebrate 500 years of the formation of the Swiss Guard. From my vantage point could only see the beautiful interior and the full choir with orchestra.

The 500th anniversary of the founding of the Swiss Guards in Luzern

Moved on to Allstadt (Old town) with Weinmarkt, Kornmarkt and Muhlenplatz (old plazas where plays were held in medieval times – with buildings all painted up with Swiss social themes). Apparently these were meeting places of old - although what on earth made people paint their exteriors so nicely totally eluded me. Our guide did not give us many details of each building so we just played along with the tour groups alongside us gathering titbits describing the place.

Old Town Luzern

Walking through narrow cobblestreet paths towards the ramparts of Luzern

Moving on we trudged through the narrow cobblestone pathways onto the Museggwall – which were the ramparts of Luzern. Each of the watchtowers are very well maintained to this day and we could get a pretty commanding view of the city from there.

@ Museggwall

Walking eastwards we descended to Lowendenkmal (Killed Lion Statue), which commemorates the several hundred Swiss soldiers who were massacred in the service of the Pope. Luzern, unlike Zurich is a Catholic bastion that is reflected in the whole city. It lies amidst a pond and its a very peaceful location. Another interesting offshoot of this site is the presence of multiple Indian restuarants in the vicinity.

The slain Lion - in rememberance of the massacre of the Swiss Guards

From there we ran (literally) down the hill to the shores of Lake Luzern where we jumped on the ‘Villa and Valley Cruise’ on paddleboat steamer for two hours. This was the 'value for money' part of the trip - since the Swiss Pass covered all these oddities. On the otherhand it was a nice way to rest our legs and bask in the warm Swiss afternoon. Samir's sunscreen (smelt a lot like fevicol) provided some relief from sunburn... although I guess I didn't care as much.

A Lazy ride in a paddleboat on Lake Luzern

The Villa and Castle cruise was exactly as named - with many a pretty castle (and casino) dotting the shores of the lakes. It would seem that most cities in Switzerland were built on the banks of a river - and had a small lake for pleasure... all the better for us.

The Villas and Castles dotting the edges of the lake

It passed through Meggenhorn, Kussnatcht among other areas – and we just about enjoyed the ride – figuring out the names of the mountain peaks that surrounded us and taking delight in the antics of a cute little toddler who reminded me very much of Schuyler.

Schuyler's Swiss Counterpart

The Three Amigos... or should it be the three 'Herr...

After the cruise we went to Hofkrische (Courtyard church) that is Luzern’s oldest and primary cathedral. Very ornate gold plated figures of the ‘Death of Mary and Jesus’ and the ‘Agony at Gethsamane’ on the main altar (the church is dedicated to St. Maurice and St. Ledger – both patron saints of Luzern).

Inside the Hofkrische (principal place of worship in Luzern)

While we wandered around, Anil potted about with his camera - and produced the first of a series of self potraits ... always with the curious expression staring into the camera.... guess when you try to take self potraits you never quite know when to smile :-)

Anil's 'Look at the Camera guys' photograph

Finally we were hungry and choose ice cream – I got schillkormelle and tiramisu… and just about hopped on the train to Interlaken. Thanks for Anil for reminding us that we had kept the backpacks in the lockers – we nearly almost forgot the same.
Due to the heavy rains there had been landslides and train tracks may have been damaged so we had to get off and take the ‘post-bus’ reaching Interlaken at 18:50 with a train to Lauterbrunnen at 19:20. Reached within 20mins. Its just like I had imagined – a small village right at the base of a HUGE ‘U’ shaped valley.

The gorgeous Lauterbrunnen valley (view from Valley Hostel)

The hostel is more like a Swiss Chalet only 2minutes from the station. It full of Asians – mainly Koreans – not surprising given the hospitality and cost of the place. We got an entire room with 3 beds, a skylight and a balcony with a view to a waterfall (it was lit up at night which made the whole effect very magical).
We had a late night dinner at Hotel Oberland (our hostel didn’t have anything at that hour). It seems to be run by mainly British people – and we were catered to by a very British – and sweet Alex. I had pork steak with a bottle of Gramay (Swiss Red Wine)
Couple of oddities to note

Water seems to be free if you buy wine – else its just as, if not more expensive
Ketchup, mustard and other condiments cost extra.
Most of Luzern’s buildings seem to have been burnt to the ground and rebuilt at some point of time – would seem that is it the mecca of any arsonist!

Europe on a shoestring - Day 1 (Zurich) [September 24, 2005]

2005-12-15T11:19:00.000-05:00

Arrived at Zurich airport at 10:30. Swiss efficiency saw us out of the airport and into the train leading to Zurich HB (railway station) at 11:10. The railway station is beneath the airport and everything is run according to the clock. Since we were before the 12:00 lockout period we had the time to walk with the backpacks for a couple of miles to the City Backpacker hostel. Aaaah yes, before I forget we saw a taste representative of Zurich in the form of a Porsche Carrera GT ($450,000) cruising outside the station.

Its just like Victoria Terminus in Bombay, India

City Backpacker is a small neat place by the side of the street - so small that we nearly missed it the first time through. It is on the upper floors of one building and after climbing many flights of steps leads to the small reception. The rooms are very small with a 6-bed dorm and two guys were in bed when we entered.

Our timing had been impeccable and checked in 2 minutes before 12:00. Thanks be to God, since if we had been late it would have meant walking all the way back to the station to deposit the baggage. This timing would become more and more common through our trip, we never actually MISSED anything, although many a time we did come CLOSE to missing it.
After relaxing a bit, and yes it was just a bit since we were in Zurich only for the day we moved out along Niederdorfstrasse. This is all old town Zurich, with cobble stone streets and cafes and shops all around, again a common sight throughout our tour, quite charming in fact.

On our way along Niederdorfstrasse towards the hostel - traveling in style
Narrow bylanes in the old part of the city - the heart of the Dada art movement (and no - I have no clue as to what exactly that is)
Along the Limmat

We first saw Grossmunster and Fraumunster (the Great minister and the Lady minister) churches in Zurich. Both of them within viewing distance of each other on opposite banks of the Limmat river. Both churches are now de-consecrated, victims of the reformist movement of Huynrich Zwingli and company.

Grossmunster
Fraumunster

Mark Chagall's windows are super-famous in the Fraumunster, although they seem a bit out of place in a 1000-year-old cathedral.

The famous Chagall Windows

We moved on to Bahnhofstrasse, which in comparison to Niederdorfstrasse is the business street in Zurich. However before that we took a small detour and went to see Burkliplatz along the Zurichese (lake).

Burkliplatz

First comments on walking back - Zurich sure is expensive. All along the road are only shops dedicated to super-high designer wear, and the only cars you see are Ferrari, Audi, BMW and Mercedes. Saw clothes for E3850 and obviously given this climate the kind of people who were walking about were of course pretty. Felt out of place in my t-shirt and crumpled travel pants, but what the heck, it was my vacation - and for sure it felt comfortable. (a piece of advice - nylon travel pants ARE the way to go - may look crumpled and ordinary, but dry fast, occupy less space, and are super light, all important requirements when you are lugging your stuff around).

Poulterswil with potatoes and rice

Finally we stopped by Manor department store and had lunch at their self-serve buffet Manora. Had Poulterswil (chicken) with sides. Not sure if it was Anil's idea of being 'chilled' enough, but it was good value for money. Thanks again to Rough Guides, which I must say are one of the best books around, and offer good insights into traveling, including cheap and good eats.

@ Landesmuseum

Moved on to Landesmuseum (Swiss National museum - I guess that's how the name comes about). Although it was huge it seemed pretty empty and we just walked around it Â and instead went in the Limmatschiff to have a joyride through the Limmat and a bit of the Zurichese.

All about the Limmatschiff

The boat rides are a great way to unwind and digest on what you have seen and you can see a lot of things by boat that you may not be able to do on land.

Panoramic Zurichese

We followed that with a train ride to Uetliberg from where one can get a panoramic view of Zurich - especially through a 30m high viewing tower. Beautiful cityscape seen with the setting sun.

View of Zurich from Uetliberg

In the evening it began to get a bit chilly, especially with clever me having now sweater. We returned after dark arriving at the Nordsee fish diner (a Rough guide recommendation situated conveniently at the railway station) and had some fresh fish and washed it down with a beer. Good food for the day.

Zurich by night... with the neon COOP sign which followed us all along Switzerland

Room was comfortable and slept after bath at around 23:00. The other guys were a guy name Dhranay from Mexico and an American named Chris from New Mexico studying Tibetian culture among the exiles in Zurich Â nice scholarship I must say. Seemed ok enough people but we took no chances and chained our bags using the trusted bike-chain locks.

Europe on a shoe-string - Introduction

2005-12-13T17:37:00.000-05:00

This is the first of a series of photo essays describing my first jaunt through Europe - which was a 16 day self-propelled tour along with two good friends. I do not intend it to be strictly a 'do-this, don't do that guide' but maybe you could pick up a few pointers along the way in planning your own trip. As Louis Casabianca put it - if you haven't yet seen Europe... what in the world are you waiting for!!!
It had been a dream for sometime to do this, and it remained just that until I decided it should be ticked of the list of 'Joe's to-do List before he gets married' - so it was pretty much now or never. First call - find a set of compatible companions, preferably not clones since that would get boring... at the same time a guy (or girl) who would not cause angst halfway through the journey. Next, keep the number of fellow travelers small, else you will end up perennially waiting for the last one - and you hardly want to be doing that if you are on a tight schedule. Luckily I was blessed to have just the right individuals in Samir 'Sam' Ginde - my roommate from Virginia Tech and Anil Kumar who has been my comrade in many a good (and ill-fated) trip across the U.S.A.

Anil & Samir (at JFK - Sept.24 2005)

Yes, I did try initially - and No I did not manage to find any girls to come along, at least not the right ones... maybe because it was not going to be all luxury all the way or for whatever reason - but no bother, it would all be good.
Second - the planning stage. I had betted on keeping the trip to within $2000 and this called for planning - airfare, hostels (not hotels silly!), museums ... the whole night yards. The trip was planned for October but we began exploratory work in February and scrounged for cheap deals in flight tickets, train passage and of course - the itinerary. After numerous back-and-forth discussions (or arguments - call it what you seem fit) we concluded on the following - Zurich - Lucerne - Lauterbrunnen - Lausanne - Venice - Florence - Rome - Nice - Paris. Yeah, we did discuss Amsterdam, London and Munich but when you have limitations in time and budget this was all we could fit in... and who says this would be our last trip anyways?
If you ask me now - this is what you got to do: and I think the order is correct too....

Get the itinerary in place
Grab a good guide for each place. We used Rough Guides, which I thought made good reading. As a sidenote - do not use the all-in-one Europe guides... since they lack depth, and are heavy to carry around
Get your flight tickets - travel in September and April may be the best, off-season with brilliant weather
Book hotels, hostels - using ratings from different websites to help you out. Couple include www.tripadvisor.com and www.hostelworld.com
Purchase the intermediate destination railway and/or bus tickets. If possible try to squeeze long journeys as overnight train-rides, saves money and time
Get appropriate visas and travel insurance
Read the guides and chalk out a rough itinerary - really helps to get up each morning and have a decent idea (not necessarily written in concrete) to know what you have to do
Based on your likes you may even want to book certain attractions in advance. May cost a wee bit extra but one look at the lines will make you wish you had
GO... nothing more - nothing less

So now that all was taken care of - that's exactly what we did. Each day of our adventure will be included in a new post. That way you do not get bored... and my blog will get more hits. Hmmm... I do not mean the latter, but still would like to share our experiences with you. Happy reading...

Cyril Silva R.I.P

2005-08-19T10:13:00.000-04:00

As I sit down to collect my thoughts to write this essay my mind wanders over the two decade over which I have known him as a priest, an acquaintance... and a friend. Although his passing away did not come as a surprise, him being bedridden for the past few years, it felt as if I had lost something dear to me. It was as if even knowing the finality of the whole situation I would have liked to believe that it would end in a different manner.
My earliest memories are of this strapping priest with a great big white beard coming regularly to my house in Mangalore to minister to my grandmother and others in the house. Now coming to think of it - I do not remember any of what he talked to them, not that I cared anyways. But he would always spare some time for me - and yes, I was a very attention demanding child then; and engage in what I guess could be construed as kid talk. He had a way of connecting with people, across all ages and was able to easily break down the invisible barrier as easily as a knife cuts through butter. I do not think I ever perceived him as aged or someone I couldn't relate to, and he always seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say.
One incident I distinctly remember was when I was at an relatives place in Mangalore where I had gone to spend the day. It happened that he had come by my residence to meet me (my grandmother had left to her heavenly abode by then) and not finding me got an approximate idea of where I was presently. Then he simply mounted on his trusty moped and simply went up and down the streets in the area trying to find the exact place. Finally after trial and error he finally located me blissfully unaware that this old man had spent a good part of his hour in the hot sun trying to locate a 15 year old kid - just. Even I don't think I have done that for any friend yet....
As age took its toll he wasn't able to move around a lot and we used to have a quiet stroll through the seminary gardens. He now walked slowly, but wasn't averse to using his cane to pick a mango for me from the numerous trees around. He always had some quiet words of advice, understanding my needs as I grew in age and knowledge. I truly treasure those moments we spent together.
Finally in the last few years he was bedridden. In some ways he couldn't bear people seeing him in this way - preferring him to be known as the agile priest who would be at others bedside - not the other way around. I still insisted and met him whenever I was down, the fragile hand enveloping my sturdy fingers. His voice was slurred now, and it was painful for me to watch him in such a helpless state. He knew that his time was coming to an end - and that he was soon going to meet his Maker.
He was not related to me in any way - yet I felt a sense of grief which comes with the imminent loss of a loved one.
He passed away in his sleep a few weeks ago, a man who had spent his life serving God.... He was a Priest - and my Friend.

Miracle on the Mount...

2005-08-06T13:22:00.000-04:00

Main Entry: mir·a·cle
Pronunciation: 'mir-i-k&l
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old French, from Late Latin miraculum, from Latin, a wonder, marvel, from mirari to wonder at
1 : an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs
2 : an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment

.... we have only five barley loaves and two fish...

I guess a number of you, both Christian and non-Christian may have heard of the Biblical story of Jesus feeding the multitude, just with five loaves and two fish.... it was called the Miracle on the Mount; however I am not writing this to ramble on about the greatness of God etal - that is best left to the scholars. Not to say that I am not a believer, however certain incidents such as this for me reveal an underlying miracle far beyond what is seen on the surface.

Did Jesus truly multiply the food to feed the multitude? Let us look back and examine this for what it is worth.
Could He... well I think most certainly - its definitely a far easier task if he could rise from the dead.
But on the other hand - did He?
What I believe did happen was a miracle - yes indeed. What Jesus did was one very simple thing. He took what food He had and shared it among His people. Among the large number of people who had come to hear Him speak, there most certainly would have been many who had got food - enough and more for themselves. They sat amongst the grassy hilltop eagerly lapping up what He said. It was all so easy to be swayed by this young, powerful preacher who was offering them a glimpse of freedom, freedom they thought from the Romans, from poverty, from their miserable existence. But for a large number of people these statements were skin deep. When time progressed and evening came around the ones who were resourceful enough to have food would have started towards having a quiet meal - leaving beside the ones who had nothing.
But when they saw their teacher, their guru, taking the little what He had and sharing it amongst others - it would have shamed them to share what they had brought for themselves. Their selfishness all evaporating in one single act of selflessness.
This was an extra-ordinary event, a miracle of titanic proportion - because it would be easier to bring the dead back to life, rather than change the heart of man in an instance.
Now look around you - surely there would be someone in need who you could extend a lending hand. Sometimes - simple things like spending some time with people who need someone to talk to could make all the difference. Wouldn't this help us progress in making our world a better place to live?

A Tribute to a Great Man

2005-04-07T10:34:00.000-04:00

I admit I tried to do this myself - but fell flat on my face in my attempts. Trying to write an obituary of such an extraordinary person is no simple task. But today on the momentous solemnity of his requiem - billed as possibly the greatest funeral man has ever seen I enclose the words from Richard Owen - a correspondent who has covered the pope for more than 10 years - speaking of indefatigable energy, enormous charisma and a fountain of holiness, all from one person.

A handshake, a blessing, an amazing man

WHEN THE news broke this week that the funeral of John Paul II was to be held tomorrow, I asked a Vatican official if the Holy See was aware that this would clash with the wedding of the Prince of Wales and Camilla Parker Bowles. Wedding? he said. What wedding?

The papacy is the last absolute monarchy on Earth: nothing else approaches it in its theatrical displays of authority, and once you are inside the Vatican all else fades into insignificance. The Vatican deals in eternal verities, and thinks in centuries. Nothing compares to the death of the Pope of Popes.

Covering John Paul IIs life and times over the past ten years has been like reporting at the court of a great potentate or medieval emperor. It is not just the acres of marble, priceless works of art, colourfully clad Swiss Guard, and vaulted ceilings: at the heart of the worlds smallest sovereign state is a man who becomes almost God-like. You found yourself referring to him, along with everyone else, as the Holy Father.

Yet Karol Wojtyla remained a man, behind the pomp and magic, and those who saw him at close quarters will always remember the human being, not the icon: that sharp, quizzical look from beneath his eyebrows, as if he could penetrate our very souls, that wry sense of humour, the iron will, the flashes of anger at injustice, suffering, waste of life, and war.

It is the same human warmth that made him such a breaker of taboos, impatient with protocol, and which made him so loved by people who never even met him, except through the power of television. As I write, millions of people are pouring into Rome, completely blocking the medieval streets around the Vatican where The Times flat is situated. So powerful was his presence, in fact, that it is hard to think of him as dead at all.

That waxen figure, dressed up in great crimson robes, a white mitre, and an oddly poignant touch this shoes instead of the traditional papal slippers, cannot be him. As we filed past his body, even the most cynical Vatican reporters were close to tears, or even in tears, remembering the emotional intensity of travelling with him and reporting his impact on far-flung places.

The death of John Paul II had been so long awaited, and his decline so drawn out, that we had almost come to think he was immortal. After the initial shock of his death last Saturday, we comforted ourselves with the joke that he was only pretending, and would shortly appear as usual at his window high above St Peters Square.

The conceit that the Pope is superhuman is the result of centuries of Vatican mystery and secrecy.

Under Joaquin Navarro-Valls, John Paul IIs spokesman, the Vatican press operation has been tightly controlled. Dr Navarro-Valls is Spanish, a former doctor turned journalist turned spokesman who was at the Popes side for 20 years and whose every word was scrutinised by us for clues as to what is really going on behind the high Vatican walls.

When the commander of the Swiss Guard was found dead in his Vatican flat in 1998, together with his wife and a young Swiss Guards corporal, Navarro had solved the mystery within 24 hours: the corporal had nursed a grievance at being passed over for promotion, and had committed the murders before shooting himself through the mouth after leaving a suicide note.

Oddities in the note which suggested that it was a forgery, or the fact that the hole in the corporals head was made by a bullet of different calibre from those found in the flat all was quickly dismissed. The Vatican had spoken. Such certainty or arrogance is a reflection not only of the Vaticans culture of secrecy, embedded since Renaissance times and the Borgias, but also of doctrinal absolutism.

In the Vatican the written text, like Scripture itself, is all: if a papal text is released, and the Pope then omits certain passages, he is deemed to have delivered them anyway. On a papal trip, journalists are issued with a printed programme with their name on it, with every event timed to the second. Papal speeches are issued at specified times, often at dawn, for no apparent reason apart from masochism. If the specified time is between, say, 5.30am and 5.40am, and you turn up (bleary eyed) at 5.41am you are told that you are too late.

The Popes genius was that he burst the bounds of this tight control.

He was a consummate actor who weighed the impact of his every move and gesture and knew how to exploit the media, whether walking in the snows of the Abruzzo mountains, leaning on his crozier in a dramatic pose, or, latterly, offering a wordless blessing from his window, struggling to speak.
In his youth he used his vigour to capture the worlds imagination and spread the faith: in old age, he used his obvious suffering.

I shall never forget him wagging his finger at the crowds on St Peters Square in the run-up to the invasion of Iraq, passionately recalling his experiences in Nazi-occupied Poland and declaring, in that distinctive Polish-accented Italian of his, mai piu guerra no more war. On papal trips, even as his physical strength declined, it was an effort to keep up with him.

In the Holy Land in 2000 it was the press corps which was exhausted, not the ailing Pope, as we went with him to Jordan, the Palestinian occupied territories including Bethlehem, where he knelt at Jesuss birthplace and Jerusalem, where we watched him place a trembling hand on the Wailing Wall, well aware of the power of the image as it flashed around the world.

On Lake Galilee, where thousands assembled on a hillside where the multitudes once heard Christ, we watched his helicopter appear from the sky as the sun burst from the clouds in an almost Biblical miracle. The same year I went with him to Fatima in Portugal, where in 1917 the Virgin Mary had appeared to three Portuguese children and revealed to them the coming horrors of the 20th century in three secrets: at Fatima he told us that the Third Secret had predicted the attempt on his own life in 1981, as a bishop in white spattered in blood.

In 2002, in his native Poland freed, with his help, from communism I saw the roots of the deep faith (and nationalism) on which he drew and heard him describe his long road from the Polish boy in clogs to the successor of St Peter. In Azerbaijan the same year he reached out to the Muslims, and in Bulgaria on the same whirlwind trip he absolved Sofia of involvement in the 1981 murder attempt, carried out by a Turkish gunman on the orders of Moscow, terrified rightly of the impact of a Polish Pope on the morally bankrupt communist system.

It was on the way back from Sofia that we were summoned to his cabin, and I talked to him about his historic visit to Britain in 1982, the year after the assassination attempt. Despite some initial hostility not to mention the Falkands conflict he had been greeted like a rock star, I reminded him. He talked about the importance of keeping up the ecumenical dialogue. Beautiful and historic country, Great Britain, he said, with a smile, and that sharp look. I wish you all well.

The next year, in Slovakia another post-communist East European country we were at his side as he failed for the first time to deliver his opening address, and the lurch in our stomachs told us that this was the beginning of the end. Yet he retained to the last what can only be described as his charisma, that indefinable quality which signals that you are in the presence of an extraordinary human being. Whenever I saw him in the presence of successive Archbishops of Canterbury on their visits to Rome, the Reformation appeared a mere blip in history as arguably it does now, as the Prince of Wales and Dr Rowan Williams both make their pilgrimage to pay homage to him.

If I have one regret, it is that I never travelled with him in the first half of his pontificate, when he regularly left his cabin to come back and talk to Vatican reporters.

Looking back through my archives, I find that in early 1996, not long after my arrival, I was speculating about his demise, and tipping as his successor Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, 69 at the time, and Archbishop of Milan.

The headline was Church makes papal health taboo as frail pontiff contemplates foreign ventures and the year 2000.

He duly saw in the year 2000, wearing an astonishing celebratory coat of many colours, and Cardinal Martini is now long retired and himself in poor health. The joke, in the end, was on all of us who prematurely predicted the end of John Paul II. His legacy remains controversial, and historians will long debate whether his role in ending the East-West conflict and reconciling the worlds great faiths must be balanced against his record on Aids and contraception, the role of women, abortion, divorce and homosexuality.

But he was a rock of stability and reassurance in an unstable world, a charismatic source of moral authority, and that is why the world is now mourning him. I still cannot quite believe that his familiar voice will no longer echo across St Peters Square and through the windows of my office. He was an amazing man and, along with many millions of others, I miss him deeply.

Into the Limelight.....

2005-03-29T17:40:00.000-05:00

I glanced around one last time at our crew around me, a small lump growing in my throat - it would be the one last time. The host took the stage heralding our act and the lights dimmed for a moment before they flashed at the steadily increasing rhythm of Mission Impossible; and it some ways it would indeed seem to be so.
We certainly came from many different backgrounds, cultures and areas. Some of us ( I may be one) may have not even chosen to be here as a first option - but none the less we had in some inimitable ways shared the joys and sorrows which accompanied four years of undergraduate education at S.P. College of Engineering, Bombay. To be completely honest, the year was divided into three distinct parts, 8 months of playing and sleeping through monotonous and uneducative lectures, 2 months of studying during study leave and 2 months of examinations.
A couple of months of the 8 glorious months of the state of guilt free freedom were typically spent in the college cultural events, and more so for us during the intra-college cultural extravaganza. On hindsight our class could be put into the bracket of 'deprived' in the whole scheme of things - we didn't have any Miss or Mr India's to win big events like fashion shows, the few guys who may have made it possible never seemed to be able to pass without failing and staying behind. True, there were few events like dumb charades and a few art and craft events where we made significant strides - but it was never enough to challenge the more 'privileged' classes. Nonetheless, if we had ever lacked in terms of being gifted, we tried to make up in terms of perseverance and diligence to the task at hand. Even though within our class we may not have been in absolute speaking terms all the time, for the duration of the competition an unspoken truce was duly observed. Thus we struggled on together for four long years and were on the final lap of our uphill struggles with obstacles including brain-limited lecturers which could be another chapter into itself.
As the competition dates drew nearer only a few of us were interested to any extent in the event. Some of us were working towards interviewing for jobs, others for examinations and still others just battle-weary. No wonder most of the events elicited little or no interest on our part. Finally there was the entry for a fashion show - an event which we rarely even considered - the reason being plain to see. There was absolutely no hope of winning - period. But then, it was our last year, and who really cared about winning or losing anyways. eitherways there would be no face to hide, no shame to conceal, no folly to live with for another year - and we decided to give a crack at it.
First was the lineup for the fashion show - what the heck, anyone and everyone who was interested could take part, if we had to go down as the worst of the lot may as well do it with all guns blazing!!!! That was the simple part and we soon had around 15 interested individuals. Next was the song sequence and dress theme. Actually even that wasn't that difficult a decision after all. Dress had to be formals (suits, jackets, dress-coat - all were acceptable) - preferably black... (ethnic etal would be too tedious we assumed) though we figured that under all those psychedelic lights nobody would notice - and hence the music too had to be western. Don't really remember who got the initial idea - but the soundtrack of Mission Impossible 2 caught our fancy. In some way it was apt - we are embarking on something we had never successfully accomplished before - not as an entire class at least!!! Now came the difficult part - learning to walk and having a sequence.
To a passerby any catwalk looks pretty simple - well, people just walk..... Or do they? We spent a couple of days staring at the endless 24-7 catwalk on Fashion TV - much to the consternation of my folks, and others I am sure, dissecting the swaying and the rhythm of the anorexic models on TV; typical of an engineer I would agree - break an impossible task into several small possible ones - then the job can be accomplished. Easier said than done, especially if you try to unlearn 21 years of 'normal' walk and have 6 days to incorporate something that looks like a person walking after having to sit on a camel for a whole day!!!!!
But try we did - with emphasis on the essentials, that was the key word - SIMPLICITY. We practiced walking in synch, turning and adding little flourishes with the credo of the music trying to pack in an oomph factor. The simple beat rhythm helped us along and added to our enthusiasm served to keep up our spirit.
Finally D-day arrived and as evening approached we quickly donned our formal attire. Simple - elegant - purrrfect! From the gleaming shoes, to the black skirts/pants and the blazers we all grinned happily and maybe a wee bit nervously of our impending act. Some of us had never ventured on stage before and to prevent any last minute stage-fright in front of a large and unforgiving audience some smart aleck came up with the great suggestion of using sun-glasses. That way people would never get a clue of the fearful expressions in our eyes - and yes it definitely would serve to cut the harsh glare from the powerful halogen spotlights. Anyways most of us had the sequence so drilled into our heads we could walk blindfolded if needed and still not crash into each other.
...... As the show lights bathed us in blue with a smokescreen hazing the stage we moved - ever so tentatively at the routine that we had worked out. Being one of the last of the pack I looked around at them - Aniket, Deepak, Sameer, Ashutosh, Sachin, Siddharth, Sonali, Ashwini.... People I had worked along with for the last four years. This would be our final encore - there would be no other - not united as one class at least - never again as the batch of BE Elect 2001. Maybe there may have been others among us feeling the same - views not expressed but definitely ever so hanging in the air around us. A final strut down the ramp and it was all over - the audience on their feet clapping as they saw a class give its final farewell.
It was now time to diminish from the limelight - and never reappear .......

The A Team: Aniket, Chetan, Deepak, Siddharth, Sonali, Sachin M, Sandeep B, Tanmay, Sameer S, Sameer H, Devang, Ghanshyam, Ashutosh, Dinkar & Joseph

The joys of the outdoors

2005-03-11T16:16:00.000-05:00

Am back after a short hiatus spent exploring the great American outdoor and trying to conjure up some good topics to ruminate on. Guess could definitely start with one - possibly controversial, but entertaining all the same.
'Sneak peek - for XBOX 2' the advertisement stares at me through the LCD display of the screen. Everyone around me (I work in the geek industry) seems to be talking gamespeak - its either Halo 2 or Half Life 2 or whichever is the latest and greatest games to hit the stores. I will have to admit that I have neither the skill nor the inclination to indulge in these 'games' since i look at them with disdain as 'couch-potato makers' rather than anything of any substance - even that of entertainment.
Even worse from experience are the die hard online gamers. From past encounters i have realised that most of them live in a 'pseudo-world' where they are 'KingKong' or any such superhuman engages in a macabre battle where the only points are obtained depending upon how many you kill - and in some instances how you kill. Fun - they call it... Hiding from reality is how i see it. Some of them have difficulties in communicating socially with others - and use their virtual alter-ego as a source of their power. Meet them otherwise - they are as lost and disoriented as a person just stepping off a rollercoaster.

To all such people i have only one solution - take your gaming system and TRASH IT. The best entertainment can be had in the company of other like minded people; the best form of relaxation is to take a walk in the park. Nothing beats that - period. Get back to reality!

To be an IBO....

2005-02-08T16:07:00.000-05:00

This stems from a personal encounter sometime ago - and in ways although it may sound funny to some its quite a quagmire for others.
'Friends, Romans, Countrymen.... lend me your ears' - so said a confident Mark Antony after the death of Caesar. Confident because the mob was fickle, easily swayed by emotion and rhetoric. Although we have come a long way since those times the mob mentality still prevails among the sundry. And so goes my tale........
They filed in silently one by one, each in his finest - eyes gleaming with the possibilities of untold wealth; it seemed so simple. The speaker moved in, the jet-setting personality complete with the slick black hair. Unless I am truly mistaken there was a smile - possibly a smirk on his face as he evaluated the people come to listen to him talk.
He came with a dream - be your own man, have your own business, have a 'pipe' income instead of a 'bucket' income and gave them countless other possibilities. At each pause there was a meek applause followed by a furious scribbling on their pads and he described how they could become RICH - RICH beyond all their imaginations, fulfill their dreams and desires...
What did the poor folk there realize that being an Independent Business Owner (IBO) , yup, that's what he called it was more of a pipe dream rather than a pipe spitting out greenbacks. Such pyramidal schemes were out to catch the unwitting person - ensnare him with their ideology so that he would be enslaved to feed their pockets. I could help but sit back and smile, with a heart filled with pity for these individuals who would now move to on to use their hard earned money and time to vainly try and make a few dollars more. The 'evil empire' had many names - once Amway now risen again as Quixstar and God alone know what other fronts to rob people of their hard earned wealth.
In someways Antony again echoes in my ear - 'this is but.... a mob'

Chick Peas Recipe

2005-01-28T13:17:00.000-05:00

To most Indians back home this recipe would seem quite trivial - so on the onset I will state that the recipe is catered to the 'newbie' cooks like myself and any other person who may consider trying some Indian cuisine.
As always with my cuisine blog - credit is given to the person who talked me through (literally) the entire preparation, Divya 'Divvi' Gupta. Must have had a lot of patience to keep me occupied through the entire time it took to prepare this. For things like recipes I move away from my no-name policy so that the right people get the accolades. So without much further ado - lets get started.
I think this should easily serve 4

1 can (32 oz.) of chick peas. (Divvi suggests fresh chick peas soaked overnight, drained and kept in the refrigerator before cooking, obviously I didn't have the luxury of time to do that)
3 green chilies
1/2 bunch of cilantro (coriander) leaves (and yes - I DID remove the stalk!)
a small piece of ginger (or a tsp of ginger paste)
1 pod of garlic (or a tsp of garlic paste)
1 tsp pomegranate seed (anardhana) powder
1 tsp garam masala powder
1/2 tsp red chilly powder
a pinch of salt
1 big potato
2 medium sized onions

(the spices can be obtained from any Indian Store)

Preparation
saute the chopped onions is a little bit of oil (I used olive oil since its healthier).
blend chilly, cilantro, ginger, garlic with a little bit of water (if necessary) until it forms a paste.
pressure cook (boil) the chickpeas and potato until they are soft (DO NOT MAKE IT SUPER-SOFT). In the pressure cooker it should take one whistle. Add a little water in the pressure cooker while cooking the chick peas.
Mix all (onions, paste, chick peas and potatoes (cubed)) in a pot. Wait 10 minutes heating on LOW.
and Lo and Behold its ready to EAT.

Again the recipe is good since it is a dummies one - chance of failure is small. And to give the best compliment of how it turned out - the word came from my roommate ..... Authentic

Feast and Enjoy

The Laws of Attraction

2005-01-21T17:25:00.000-05:00

"Like poles repel and unlike poles attract"

Guess most of us learnt this during high school in some obscure science class concerning magnetism from some now forgotten teacher who in vain hoped for a Newton or Einstein to emerge from one of the motley bunch in front of him/her. Little did my mischievous self realize that such laws applied to so many things apart from science itself.....

I used to believe that well 'like men think alike' and so on and so forth. Quite a pragmatic thought I must say. However as times pass wisdom appears over the horizon to cast its shadow on such fervent beliefs - and that is what I am going to espouse in this essay.

My first opinion when I saw her was.... hmmmmm too quiet for my liking. Not exactly distasteful but what common ground would a free bird like me hope to find with someone who on first impressions preferred to be the silent observer. So much for appreciation on first sight (and yeah I am agnostic on the love at first sight thing).

Life went on its own humdrum way meandering through the little oddities we call the 'joys and sorrows of life'. Sure living in the modern global 'village' we would on occasion meet each other - which would consist of a very courteous greeting (gotta thank my parents for that) followed by an equally civil and studied..... silence (gosh, if telepathy was in vogue we would have certainly reached max capacity in terms of unspoken words :-))

However ever so slowly the ice started melting. In a way I guess I began to appreciate the fact that even although she was different, maybe she was different in a good sorta way. You still couldn't talk economics, tech or any of the equally abstruse topics up my alley but I would be wrong to say that we didn't share anything in common. [ah, speaking of ice-breakers - to all my friends and well-wishers.... well include people who don't like me for any particular reason; who are on the verge of getting into the arranged marriage maze - for heavens sake don't make the mistake of asking the other person about his/her hobbies........ errrr I don't collect coins, stamps, cars - parties don't count. That's a super cliche question to even pose to anything in this modern day and era... yeah I am most definitely going to devote one whole essay on that topic - but not just yet..] - Coming back to her. Now, to be honest I don't remember what we spoke about - trying to making casual conversation - and hoping the other wasn't hoping for a sudden death to get out of it. In some way I would say it was an exploratory phase of a budding friendship - no strings attached.

Retrospectively speaking we sure would have made an odd pair - she being quite unlike any girl among my friends circle. Petite features which revealed little, with a quiet voice carefully weighing each word that was spoken. Enigmatic - yup, you could certainly put it that way. Different from me - oh most certainly, but in most reassuring way. I wouldn't call it bonding - that would be taking it too far - but in some inimitable way each meeting would be a soothing salve which would leave me in the quite a good mood.

In some ways this friendship has stood fast - blossoming in its own enchanting way, across distance and time, bringing along its own special moments and memories which make life so much more worth living. Looking back - guess the laws of magnetism sure hold good - they most definitely did so for me.

A Thought

2005-01-11T09:48:00.000-05:00

Heard this on the radio station on my way to work, and would like to share it with whoever would care to read this blog.

"Reputation is what you are in the light......
Character is who you are in the dark"

The Gift

2004-12-28T14:30:00.000-05:00

In some ways the inspiration for my thoughts comes through Christmas - a time traditionally meant to meet and reconcile with one another symbolized by the exchange of gifts.

In the words of the presenter from the History channel - the birth of Christ was a gift to mankind - to a people who were the most undeserved of such a gift, yet at the same time the most in need of it. In some ways it indeed was the best kind of gift that one could ever receive - since it was given freely, without any strings attached; and without expecting anything in return.

The Christmas spirit has held sway over both happy and sad times - even in the midst of horror and war, as epitomized by the Christmas Truce on December 25, 1914 when the German, French and British troops lay down their arms, got out from their trenches and saw each other as they really were..... not as an evil enemy but just as a person doing a job, and deserving a hug instead of hate.

However nowadays when one reads the daily paper regarding Christmas (Holiday shopping in 'politically nutty diplomatic' USA) shopping you will come across words as 'stress, credit card overdrafts, holiday loans' - one would wonder if this was indeed a 'happy' season. Little by little we obliterate the simple joys of life by introducing unimportant requirements on our already overburdened lifestyle.

But in the heart of hearts - one factor remains constant..... or at least I hope it does. That is the joy of giving, which far surpasses the joy of receiving. In a way it would seem that God's present to us gave him great joy. I have never quite understood this concept - logically thought about, it would seem that you win even though you lose - (loss in terms of monies, time spent etc.) maybe this is and will remain one of those mysteries which makes our life on this Earth something to cherish, and every gift - no matter in what form, size or thought will serve, each in its own intimate way to provide a continuance of joy and happiness in each of our lives

An Xmas thought

2004-12-13T09:29:00.000-05:00

This one is credited to Fr. Peter Nessetta from the George Mason Catholic Campus ministry - one of the few guys I admire for his talent for capturing the thoughts of people.

' whilst walking down the aisle in the store I looked upon an X'mas card with this message

Outside
" Sweetheart, you are the answer to all my prayers"

Inside
" You are certainly not what I had prayed for;
But apparently, you are the answer "
'

A Leap of Faith....

2004-12-12T15:30:00.000-05:00

Inside it is cramped, and i find myself sitting on the bare floor looking around in anticipation - with quite a few butterlies merrily flying around in my stomach. Focus dude.... this definitely ain't the time to act chicken - remember this was all and all your doing from beginning right till now.
I walk, nah this isnt exactly walking but more like a waddle like a duck towards the exit - exit of what - well duh.... entrance into a vast emptiness. I am huddled in a small propeller plane, climbing rapidly to 14000 feet all ready to... in simple terms... JUMP... or if you would like to be all prim and proper have my first skydive.
At the door which is all propped open and ready i gasp, deeply inhaling the sweet, pure air at these lofty heights. I look around, holding the door with all my strength, my mind full of uncertainity. The instructor is strapped on to me from behind and is shouting instructions - they all seem to whizz past me without any meaning - the only tangible sound being the roar of the propeller.

Oddly enough this is the time i revel in what is going to happen - with my legs slowly being reduced to jelly at the same time. I shut all thoughts from my mind - determined that if it my destiny so be it: have done my background research - statistics are stacked against me to survive this fall; i have a more likely chance of dying in a road accident along Washington DC's notorious beltway rather than from a skydive - and come to think of it - if i HAVE to die, what would be cooler eh!! :-)
of course my beloved parents have to live through this insanity; i did the mistake of keeping them informed of my decision, comparing the dive to a feather floating gently down in a blue sky - my mum saw it a as rock hurtling towards earth.... the rest is consigned to the annals of history.

Go - No Go....... it was most definitely GO FLIGHT.... as we rocked - once, twice and took the plunge - diving headfirst into what I would most definitely consider an experience of a lifetime - it was a LEAP OF FAITH.

The Road not Taken

2004-12-07T17:20:00.000-05:00

In some ways I think i am coming around full circle - adding to my blog another of the few poems which I love to read ever so often - this one a classic by Robert Frost




Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood	

And looked down one as far as I could	

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Hero

2004-11-29T17:12:00.000-05:00

Merriam Webster Online
Pronunciation: 'hir-(")O, 'hE-(")rO
Etymology: Latin heros, from Greek hErOs

a : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability
b : an illustrious warrior
c : a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities
d : one that shows great courage

Surely not a or b, but in my own eyes - all of c and d. My Hero is my DAD.

In some way throughout my life in India I never ever so definitely came to this conclusion - maybe it was there somewhere hidden in the recess of my mind - but never so much as right in front of my face.

My first recollections of my dad are when I was very small - in the form of a few old photographs taken during occasional strolls in the Malabar Hills garden; the Kamala Nehru Park. Dad sitting on the grass with the 'Big Bean' tee-shirt (to this day I have never quite figured out what the big bean meant, although that will be embedded in my memory forever) and me very happily playing around him, carefree as ever, confident if anything arises HE would always be there for me. This thought process has been espoused by many psychologists - that the father would always be looked up as 'super-dad' by a boy in his early years: his dad could do just about anything.

Things slowly changed as I went into school and began interacting with a wider social circle. To be noted I was extremely hard to deal with - quite demanding on an individual - and to a great extent on my parents. I guess at that time I was trying to assert myself - and this would inevitably cause pitched battles with my sister, Roseita - who became a punching bag. At this point of time I have no tangible explanation how I could engage in such deeds and not even truly seek pardon for the same. The end result would be a sound thrashing from my dad - I still do remember the brown wooden ruler so very distinctly. At that time I did not realize it and cried and tried to kick my way free, that I wasn't the only person being hurt by the thrashing. Just knowing my dad several years later - I realize that it must have hurt him so much more - to beat his own blood - in order to help me realize what I done. Dad in such circumstances - became evil incarnate, always siding with my sister and I would in my heart of hearts hate him for it. I have vivid memories of running down the staircases of Kenilworth to the gate after a fight, waiting in anticipation for my parents arriving to plead my case before the judgment was delivered - which in most cases went against me.

Then there were our travels. I think that may have been the best times in our family. Bangalore, Mysore, Srinagar, Shimla, Chandigarh ... the list just goes on. If there is someone who gave me the traveling bug it would surely be my dad. During those times he would leave his work behind and we would explore all these exotic locales - leaving me with fond memories of the times we spent together - remember the Mughal Gardens in Kashmir... seeing snow for the first time in Gulmarg, eating burgers during a cold evening in Shimla, the early morning south Indian breakfast after a bone rattling bus ride to Manali. In some way I could espouse - if there was anytime of bliss - it was just this.

Life went on like usual for me - and as life would have it, as I moved into my teenage years my parents became more and more difficult to comprehend - at least from the way I saw it. It never was clear to me why my dad chose to do things the way he did ... Why walk from Grant Road when you could very well take the bus, why not insist and demand the perks of his position, be old-fashioned in dress style, I was just left with more questions then answers. I looked at my friends parents - who seemed to live life king size - and I sometimes was left feeling inadequate. This left me feeling a little lost - and I channelized these frustrations into studies, if I couldn't live like my classmates - at least I would beat them at what it mattered - in school. If I couldn't take tuitions - cause they cost too much, damn them... I would still study THAT much harder to match them. This would be the source of my much yearned respect in my class - and it was well earned. My mum was my tutor in these times - relearning her own past education to be able to educate us - and unknowingly gave me a gritty competitive spirit which I carry to this day.

These in an subtle way were my formative years. I never could understand why I was made to compulsory write essays regarding any trip I made - yeah, even to the garden. But if not the insistence of my dad I wouldn't be able to write anything like what I do today - from technical writing to composition of letters such as these. Although I do acknowledge accolades for these today - the real job was done back then - in the struggles and constructive criticism which I got to do it. Similar was the way in what we were taught to speak and read. I didn't realize it then - but those days spent in cultivating my love for reading poise to eloquently express words have been instrumental being able to deliver my thoughts clearly and confidently today. These are not tangible gifts - the true value of them is never realized until much later. To put things in perspective I now realize what an uphill struggle it would have been for my dad - since he didn't have any 'god-father' to impart these instructions to him - his own father expired when he was still in his early years. However I am not sure if I did ever acknowledge him or mum for what they did - cause if I then won an award - it was due to MY hard work.

My years in engineering went by like a bullet train - and I decided that it was time I leave for pursuit of higher studies in the U.S.A. simultaneously my dad retired from his job, as the Head of the Nuclear Medicine Center - where he has started his career as a research scientist years ago. I used to rib him a lot about why he didn't choose to remain in the US after his studies - why he didn't choose far more lucrative careers than a government job - why he stayed long after everyone had left in the pursuit of scientific research, especially when the other kids parents seemed to be quite lax in their work. He used to - and still does, remind me that money isn't everything in life, and that the object of any persons vocation should be to contribute something - even in the smallest of ways to the betterment of society, and he saw himself doing just that working here, without the sole objective of making profit - of course that made little sense then but then dad was a person who stubbornly stuck to his beliefs irrespectively of what I thought them to be - altruistic, idealistic and totally obsolete.

However there are few memories that I truly cherish - and enabled me to conclusion that if I needed a hero to look up to - that person certainly wasn't too distant from me. One was a comment from one of my dad's office colleagues - the telephone operator Vipul. Now Vipul is one of those people who you meet and greet if you come across them (dad having indoctrinated us with the idea that every person deserves respect irrespective of who they are and what they do) - but rarely think much about them. However once when I was in RMC (dad's primary home - or so we called it) she looked at me and queried one simple question - how did my dad ever develop to be so calm in nature, he never ever raised his voice at anything - and was always able to soothe ruffled feathers without much of a fuss. He seemed to her like a very 'opposite' kind of boss -- at least in her words .. being very modest and unassuming in nature at the same time being able to command respect from his peers and the rest of his colleagues. Its kinda odd when a stranger puts this point across very poignantly to you - and yes, I was pretty much left without a reply.

The second - more powerful moment came when dad gave his retirement speech in front of a packed audience at RMC. I had some background idea that he had risen against terrific odds from a scientific assistant to head the division - but dad always kept it to himself - never allowing us a hard glimpse of what it must have been like. However at that time on that stage - I saw my dad's human side as a professional - where he tearfully recounted those difficult years..... In an odd sense that seemed to give me some inner strength - although at that time I couldn't bear seeing my dad's tearful persona with a straight face. However although he must never had fond memories of those who held him back for selfish reasons - he never cussed at them - and at an earlier date even went up to talk to the same person who had tried to put him down. Although at that time I may have questioned the prudence of such a thing - being prone to go on the offensive when questioned - as I have matured I realize the amount of patience and perseverance that it would have required - at the same time a forgiving heart to be able not take revenge against those who put you down. Yes - it is quite the opposite of whom I wanted to be - strong, powerful and commanding - but in those moments I realized where the inner strength of a person really lay.

When I finally took off to USA my dad would have surely been worried - and although he never admitted it all those years - as he so succinctly put it - the fledging were leaving the nest - and he hoped and prayed that God would see them successfully through the trials and tribulations ahead.

Now - sitting here in a distant continent, I reminiscence on how similar I am to my dad - and am indeed thankful for the upbringing that I have obtained by my parents. Even if I tried my utmost best it would be impossible to repay the sacrifices that they have willingly taken in order to get me to where I am now - and in some way this essay expresses that. When I began composing this - indeed it wasn't a day effort, I used to think that such essays would typically be found as part of eulogies following the demise of a loved one. However I was determined that it not be so - in order for my dad realize what I used to, think - and will always will him to be - my Hero.

Wishing you a very very Happy Christmas.

Joseph

Second best....

2004-11-21T14:08:00.000-05:00

The starting gun fires, and they are off... eyebrows knit with concentration, sinews bursting to extract every ounce of strength and before you can say 'Moby Dick' the 100m dash is all done - all under 10 seconds. The winner exults in the adulation of the crowd, a standing ovation before the packed stadium and the millions more watching him/her on television........... but what about the rest? Difference in times are only fractions of seconds - yet all the others are cast into the commonality of 'also rans'. Welcome to modern day competition.

The survival of the fittest - as codified by the likes of Darwin among others is as paramount today with the human race - as it is with every living organism in nature - only that the survival is at an altogether different level. But this essay is not targeted at those winners - but the also rans. In a subtle way their crucial importance cannot be underemphasized - without them - there wouldn't be any winners, there wouldn't be that extra effort to push the human body and mind to it fullest extent and beyond.

Most of us who call this world home belong to this commonality - if you so would like to refer to it in that way. No matter how hard we try - we do not seem to be able to meet or beat the best of best - no matter which area or field we pursue. In the same breadth - the winner himself cannot rest on his laurels - for fear of winning the battle but losing the war. The fortunes of both the winner and loser are thus entwined in each other - inseparable in some respects. For the losers - the winner serves as a goal to the achieved - a record that stands to be broken. For the winner - the losers are the only reason that he has to continue to train and better himself - just to maintain status quo, at the back of his mind being the ultimate reality that one day he will be successfully challenged on his own turf.

In all its quirks - therein lies the beauty of our existence. No matter how we look at it - the symbiosis continues to prevail - its something we cannot live without. Therefore - in whatever our struggles are - we should take heart that they are not all in vain - and never give up the sight of that elusive goal which we all seek - which makes all of us winners

Life Eternal

2004-11-08T08:43:00.000-05:00

Well - for sure, this one will be short and sweet unlike my previous ramblings. My cousin in Raleigh, NC (U.S.A) was the source of this, which I think is quite an interesting take on the topic.

In some ways everyone wants to live forever - and although different religions and cultures have differing beliefs on how to achieve this - Christian's believing that once you die after having led a good life you could go straight to heaven where you would have everlasting bliss, Hindu's believing that your next life would be governed by the way you led your current life - following a cycle until you attain Moksha.

However it is obvious from the way we all live that we cherish our present existence so much that we dread the fact that one day it will be all over. Nowadays with the advances of science people are trying to overcome just this hurdle via cloning and other techniques - which even with all its opposition is a forgone conclusion in the future.

But have you ever considered this......

As long as you are single - your life is centered around yourself: yeah, we all talk about being concerned about parents, relations and friends. But the truth is that it is 'I' who comes first followed by the rest. Don't take me wrong on this issue - self preservation is a very important trait among humans - and is intrinsic to its very existence and possibly has played an important role in the dominance of man on planet Earth.

However when you have offspring, something changes. Look around you - and you will surely notice the same. The young one now becomes the object of singular attention of the parents - who would typically go to any - yes ANY extent to preserve the existence of the little one. One may casually cast it as 'over protective' parents - but Glen (yup, that's my cousin's name) had an interesting take on just this matter.

From L-R (Veenas' folks with Veena, lil Nicole, Glenn and Ethan)

As he put it - the parent sees a younger mirror reflection of him/herself in his baby (I am sure you have heard different people comparing the likeliness of the baby with one or the other parent). As the parent sees it - this baby is like clay - which can be fashioned in thought, mind and body just like him(her)self - to be virtually an extension of oneself.

In doing so - the parent achieves immortality - since he/she now lives through the baby. As Glenn rightly put it - this is why a parent will put him/herself in harms way - sometimes even at the cost of his/her own life.

Dad lives on through meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :-)

This thought would also justify why a parent would be so devastated at the loss of a child - especially an only child; because in the child's passing away the parent unconsciously sees his/her own mortality and the loss of a chance of everlasting life.

Trip down Memory Lane

2004-11-01T14:03:00.000-05:00

A few musings of my alma mater - Campion....

I thought a few of the usual utterances from teachers might bring a few smiles.

Here are a few. Some need an explanation, others speak for themselves.

Gomes: "Arre, ponghis!" (when nobody could answer his oral physics question correctly) or "Flippo!" as he raced to the end of yet another page of our Abbott physics text with ruthless speed (with only his bald head visible above the book).

Dias: "Plus t(h)ree"

Karanjia: "Come on, now!" (when asked to go over some basic maths point) and of course the endless mutterings to himself as he paced up and down the classroom after the lecture was over.

Hodi: "Atten-hen" or the cruel "Lev, Lev, …, Lev,
Right, Lev" in the mid-day heat of January before
Republic Day in the back garden.

Bhal: "Rise and shine!" (the inevitable consequence of so much as forgetting a text book)

Noronha: "You buggers!" (and Bharat V. starting to open his umbrella in the first row to prevent spit coming on his face)

Colaso: "That is, … I mean, that is …"

Mindu: (singing melodiously, after we've fooled him
yet again into believing he's got a great voice)
"Naach re morra … ambhya cha vanat … Naach re morra naach" Or, waxing lyrical, "If you bite your tie, you will die. And your mother will cry: 'Aamcho kaghdo marun ghelo'"

Lotsa Pasta - and its good too :-)

2004-10-27T10:02:00.000-04:00

Ok - progressing through the different cuisine I have experimented with in order to produce the dummies cookbook (a.k.a very difficult to go wrong recipe! - perfect for people like me :-) here is a pasta recipe - credited to the one and only Heather Brown.

Ground Meat (1.5 lbs is good enough - you don't like beef, no problem; try any type of ground meat.... I am pretty sure it will work out)
1 packet egg noodles (15 oz is what I used)
10 oz sour cream
2 cups cottage cheese.... or for that matter any shredded cheese
2 cups (or as much as you like) pasta sauce
a few dollops of mayonnaise

Now here is how the whole thing is put together
Cook the meat - unless u don't mind mad cow or any other allied disease - you can add some spice if you so desire - shouldn't adversely affect the final taste - cause its failsafe to a big extent
Cook the noodles as indicated on the packet (FTIS - Follow the instructions stupid!!!!)
Mix the noodles, sour cream, cheese, mayonnaise, meat, pasta together and pour the stuff into a greased pan.
Bake at 350F for 30 minutes

Voila.... get ready to eat.

p.s. for an extra special meal - maybe for an extra special person get some French bread, and French onion soup on the side... and along with candles you are ready for a romantic evening.

Enjoy!

Fish Curry - I

2004-10-15T13:11:00.000-04:00

Hi - enclosing a quick posting of a mouth watering fish curry I tried out the other day.... with due credits to excellent Telephone Tech support from my good friend and fish expert Natasha D'souza....

Now - just a small footnote on why its so awesome.... cause even if you do not have the exact ingredients, no need to fret. This recipe is accomodating (just like me :-)) and will still deliver the goods!

ah now, lets get started

ya - obv you need fish; i chose Tilapia fillet. i used 6 fillet for the recipe. (fillet == less cleaning == easy to eat: my type of recipe)
red chillis
green chillis
tamarind paste
tomato puree
turmeric powder
chilli powder
cumin seeds
onions
ginger garlic paste
tandoori paste
pepper pods/powder
coconut milk
water

using a blender blend the following ingredients..

6 red chillis (kashmiri are preferred - i just used whatever was around)
1 chopped onion
3-4 tsp of chilli powder (spicy variety is preferred)
1 tsp of turmeric powder
2 tsp of cumin seeds
3-4 pods of pepper (i used garden variety pepper powder - no pepper - no problemos!)
1-2 tsp of tamarind juice (Natasha suggested squashing real tamarind and using the water - i use tamarind paste available at the Indian store)
some water to make the whole thing into an paste (no too watery mind you)... but limp gravy is not my type so i substituted water with tomato puree.
ok - so blend it all together until it becomes a paste

In a pot fry the onions (in oil - i like olive - but guess any variety like vegetable oil would do) with some ginger garlic paste ( i omitted the latter - didnt have any :-( ) until golden brown. I added some tandoori paste to the mix - cause i like the taste of that.... and some ghee (hydrogenated oil) for some flavor... (consider these as digressions of an idle mind)
when the onions are fried add some green chillis sliced lengthwise and fry the same. then add the paste and stir it all up.
when it starts bubbling a bit - check for saltiness - and add as much as required. add a little bit of water too - and make sure nothing is stuck to the bottom of the pot (no problems with finished product - but big problems with cleaning a burnt vessel!)
finally add coconut milk and mix well

15 minutes before serving add the fish (defrosted - cleaned in cold running water with a little salt to get rid of any remaining fishy odour)..... and voila you are good to go!!!!!

again - all credits to Natasha for giving me the basics....

try it out and enjoy

Pangs of Parting

2004-10-13T13:28:00.000-04:00

My folks sent me this one - credit goes to the author from Deccan Herald. A very sweet, and somewhat reflective piece.

Strong emotions of love and deep affection poured out of my heart and strong sentimentality gripped me in the Airport. I remembered the episode in ' Ramayana' and empathised with King Dasaratha's pain and agony when lord Rama left for the forests. Though the situation was different, the emotion was the same-my dear son, my own extension, was going away to a country thousands of miles away. It was like a portion of my heart being severed. I was numb all over; but I did not cry. I remembered my cousin's word - "If the mother bird cries, it will clip the wings of the young fledglings trying to soar high into the skies". I didn't want my son to feel anxious and pained about leaving us, leaving his home. He was going on a purpose, to realise his dream- to one of the best universities of the world.
His first day at the school came vividly to my mind - how unwillingly he had stepped into the class. He had fought back tears (the pride of being "a boy" had been fierce in him right from a tender age), yet they shone like little stars in his bright big eyes. The question was writ large in them "When are u coming Ma, to take me home?"
Now the roles were reveresed and my brimming eyes were questioning him, "When are u coming back son? The lure of the West, the land of opportunity is strong no doubt, but don"t forget your roots. They are in me, your mother, and in India, your motherland.
The void was too great for me to bear. My son and I are great bosom friends. We talk, share thoughts, beliefs, feelings.He has an unscanny ability to joke about my silly frustrations and make them vanish. He has this keen mind and eye to find the mistakes in my writings. He is a loveable critic, and a writer himself. He is my best friend. How could I stop my tears from flowing, though I knew that I could be in constant contact with him across the space?
Before going he joke with a wink, "Ma I am getting you a bahu, a "phoren' one", expecting me to bring the roof down.. But I replied, "go ahead, Rajesh but ensure that she is not a phoney one . Love is, beyond cavil or question, the most important experience in the life of a human being. But the quality of love is very important. The fleeting, counterfeit and selfish love 'binds and blinds'. True love allows plenty of room for respect, privacy and independence. It allows one to breathe and grow. It is the primal rhythm of the universe". And when I ended my speech with a warning. "Dont cheat any girl or get cheated by any," he smiled an "I know that, Ma smile and said, "It's not easy to have a writer as a mother. Along with love she pours out words and words." He then hugged me warmly.
I am sure he will learn to live life to the fullest, he will learn to pick himself up after stumbling, he will learn to create a solid ground under his feet to stand tall and mighty.
I sent him with a blessing. "May God stand between you and the raw evil loose in this world/ Let not destructive emotions of anger and hatred overpower you. May your inner calm and composure reign over this age of stark pervasive fear and anxiety, may there be a healthy integration of your heart and your mind and may simple common sense precautions give you sure protection"
Contributed by Ambika Ananth from Deccan Herald October 7th 2004

IF - Rudyard Kipling

2004-10-07T09:13:00.000-04:00

To be honest I aint too much of a poetry fan - either I do not have the gift of the abstract or the patience to delve into abstruse form of art.... even so - there are a few of such literary works I have come across in my life which convey a great deal to me. One of these is Rudyard Kipling's IF. Although written from a father to his son decades ago - when the world was a very different and far less complicated place - the essense of what he put down in ink I believe is something we should all cherish - hence would like to share the same with you.

Take a moment off to read it - take it for its literal meaning..... and if possible LIVE it.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies
Or being hated, don't give way to hating
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise

If you can dream and not make dreams your master
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue
Or walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you
If all men count with you, but none too much

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it
And which is more, you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

A San Diego Travelogue

2004-09-29T07:22:00.000-04:00

Some say - its only a beach....... But if you keep a guy who has grown up by the sea away from it for a long enough time.... I would say - HEY that's a beautiful beach!!!!!!!
Well guess I should backtrack a lil bit to get everyone onto the same page. Last Friday I found myself longing for 3:00 pm at Long Beach - growing weary of a conference which had been quite demanding on time and sleep. So when the time came was all ready to run to the Greyhound terminal to catch my bus towards San Diego, CA. But first - as always a small detour. For a simple reason of course - my gracious hostess in SD would be celebrating her birthday on the 25 of September - so had to pick up something which would at least befit such a lovely person. Anil - in all his infinite wisdom had given me the essential tips.... I seem to procrastinate a long time if I go shopping for someone else - so all these tips most definitely come in handy...

never get a girl - who is not your current girlfriend a perfume - it would imply that she does not smell too good
clothes - beware, although girls love clothes, one needs to be acute aware of their size - else it will be confined to the dark recesses of a closet
it should be 'chic' - I really hope I had a better elaborate expression for the same!

Well luckily I had fashion crazy Allyson to help me out - and with some effort we managed to pick up a handbag - which I thought at least met criteria 1-3 although had the least clue about whether it was a suitable gift or not... logic was simple - it wasn't going to be a bad gift - the goodness factor would be pure luck!

ah - back to the bus talk. well the concierge had told me that it would be only 1.35 miles down the road - but someone must have goofed up..... cause there I was on 3rd street - while the bus stop was on 15th street. Adding to the headaches was the disappearance of cabs which would have greatly aided my departure. So there I was lugging my case on the road in 92F weather - covering 15 blocks which seemed an eternity.

The bus was half an hour late - don't blame anyone given the traffic situation in these areas - most likely the worst in the country. So after meandering through Anaheim, Riverside, Oceanside it finally trundled into San Diego. First impression - certainly a better city than LA or Long Beach of course - had a nice port - a modest sized airport - and a decent looking downtown. The greyhound terminal actually had a customs official - which is not suprising given the proximity to Mexico (just around 10miles off SD).

Now a small introduction on the people I was going to meet in SD.

First there is Samir 'Sam' Ginde - my roommate for two years at VA Tech and one of the coolest guys around. Next is Divya Gupta - 'Divvi' to me, a person introduced to me by Sam - a very charming, unassuming girl who would be my hostess for the weekend. Finally rounding up the pack in Vivek Bharadwaj - another of my VA Tech buddies - and Samir's current roommate. Not to say that I do not know others in SD - however I would consider these to be the essential lot :-)

From L-R Samir, Divya, Me and Vivek

Now back to the story....

The all dependable Sam was a few blocks away from the terminal - and we met up within a few minutes. The other two were trying to find parking in the downtown area - also known as the Gaslamp - simple reason - cause the streetlights - were the quaint gas variety.

After a few tries - and assistance from the other folk we found parking in the same area as Divvi and Vivek. We then headed towards dinner at an Island themed resteraunt named 'My Tiki'. They had quite an assortment of cocktails - and an equally exquisite - and thankfully within budget cuisine which made for a good evening. We then meandered around a bit - with help from dessert from Ghirardelli chocolate factory.

Divvi's place is very tastefully decorated - no wonder Sam calls her IKEA girl - I prefer San Diego chick.. but that's another story.... everything prim and proper - with extra bed (very compact rollaway) and all the bells and whistles one would dream to start of life with..... kudos to you girl - for such a fantastic place. Guess i was a lil tired by then so in a little while - after wishing Divvi on the advent of her bday i headed to bed.

Next day was certainly packed the punch... After a nice breakfast of waffles and hot chocolate - Ghirardelli (nothing tastes like it!) we (Divvi and me) headed out to Sam's place - with water, beach chairs and swimming trunks (oh yeah - i was definitely going to sample the water - seemed like ages the last time i had done that!). without much ado we headed past mission bay (very nice bay with lots of water activities - kayaks, sailboats, jet skis and the like) and the airport - over a loooong bridge on to Coronado Island - which is just off San Diego - and to the beach there.

Beautiful golden sand awaited us.... although the water was a wee bit chilly for my liking. Nonetheless the three boys (Sam, Vivek and me) jumped into it without much ado. Divvi preferred to hang around the beach, wondering what had gotten into us that we behaving as pre-pubescent kids... and taking in birthday greetings by the dozen (given that she works for Nokia - she walks around with two cell phones.... so the calls kept coming)

After some time of cool water, warm sand and sunny weather with our feet nicely ensconced in sand - we decided to troop over for some lunch. given the awesome weather we chose a nice outdoor bakery deli where we could sit and chill. food was good and we were entertained by a small kid plopping around with his mother inside the deli..

twas getting around 4pm when we decided to move towards Point Loma - one of the oversights where you can see Coronado Island, the naval base situated there and the bay. quite a pretty sight with lots of sailboats... an Ohio class submarine leaving the base - and naval aircraft making their approach landing to the base. it also hosts a large cemetery - i believe for the marines - although i am not super sure.

From one overlook to another - this time Mt. Soledad which gives you another scenic view of the entire area. an added attraction was a marriage being conducted right at the top of the mountain - quite a picturesque location indeed. from here one could see the zillion dollar pretty houses (must mention this - unlike the Victorian style VA homes in CA the houses are more of the Spanish style ranch houses - expansive and quite colorful - with hues of pink, yellow and light blue to complement the surroundings), and del mar beach. by now it was getting a wee bit dark - and also a bit windy - so we rapidly descended and drove around some scenic locations - including the harbor, univ. of calif. at San Diego before moving towards old town San Diego. this is the Mexican part of San Diego - everything is quite period in nature and the food is definitely very Mexican.... a very good place to relax after a super busy day. after are appetite was more than satisfied we contemplated either clubbing or taking it easy to end the day... Divvi made the latter call, wasn't a vote since it was still her 'DAY' and now on hindsight given our condition was quite a good call.

We then headed home - picking up a movie along the way... again a chic flik ' Love Actually' to keep everyone happy with the decision. Accidently bumped into Nishant Kumar and his wife at the movie rental (including this just to keep the travelogue complete). Oddly in the end Divya retired early so it was three guys watching a chick flik!!!!... well so much to wrap up the day.

Finally on Sunday it was about 12am before we reached Sam's place... obv i had a great breakfast of eggs etc prepared by my lovely hostess... but time was short so we went over to a South Indian place for lunch - Madrasi style - pretty decent food. I had been advised that although Amtrak was comfortable - they had in the past cancelled trains - hence took the earlier rather than the later train - to ensure i had some breathing space..... if i ended missing the flight out of LAX then all hell would break loose.

Journey by amtrak was pleasant - filled with students returning after a weekend to the universities dotting the coast. had no problems transferring from Amtrak to MetroRail then shuttle to LAX - therein ends my travelogue.

Hope you'll liked it - i haven't been doing to much editing - and put it forth as thoughts came to my mind - believe that's what a blog should be.

Again thank my wonderful hosts (Divya, Samir and Vivek) for such a lovely time - i enjoyed your company and the sights of SD - and hope to do it sometime again.

The pics are up on Shutterfly - you can access them here

http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeAOXLVk4at2bLDg

Adios

Joseph

Desiderata

2004-09-15T10:08:00.000-04:00

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career,
however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantmentit is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery,
and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

(Thanks - Jasmine )