Questioning Mode

While this month has been intellectually fulfilling, with the aftermath of PIFF that has made me read much more than usual and thus the slowed down pace of posts/reviews and the recently started literature course at AFP that has my grey cells charged and scrambling to work over-time, it has been professionally exhausting, with one of my two groups being way-too talkative and distracted, expecting to be entertained and amused every day and a free-lance project that may bring in extra money but is extremely boring and emotionally volatile with me having reached the highest highs and the lowest lows, wanting to bring a club down on one person and grab and smother the other with hugs and kisses.

A completely arbitrary stray comment made by a dear friend made me step down the questioning path once again – does my basically introvert nature and extreme selectiveness when it comes to friends, mean I’m a snob? Does my having high expectations from friends, which means that I can count my true friends on the fingers of one hand, mean that I’m a snob? Does my incapability of socialising and indulging in small-talk with random people and drawing them to me like a moth is drawn to light, mean that I’m a snob? Am I a snob, just because I am not on back-slapping terms with everybody and tend to hold myself away from the crowd, preferring not be drawn into the fore? Doesn’t it count that I am nice to everyone including those who talk to me only when they find me useful and that I don’t make snubbing, bitchy comments about people I don’t consider “in” or cool? Or that I have never looked down my nose at those who don’t patronise big brands, (considering I myself rarely do so) and don’t drop names? Or that I can eat at a roadside tapri with just as much pleasure as at a five star hotel? Or that I don’t really consider myself to be above others and can talk to people from all walks of life? But then, on second thoughts is it really so bad to be a snob?

So while I have been indulging in introspection and riding the emotional roller-coaster, juggling work and trying to widen my horizons by reading more and learning more, this place has been rather desolate and ignored – haven’t bowed out yet, worry not folks, there is a lot that’s to come in this space...

The Aftermath (I)...

Pune International Film Festival has come to represent a cinematic orgy of sorts and the aftermath always leaves me faintly overcome and dizzy. This years edition, though extremely disappointing vis-à-vis the selection of films, the schedule and the completely abysmal lack of crowd, all of which served more as discouraging factors in the aim of catching as many films as possible, still served to arouse the intellectual processes at least a little though not as much as the previous editions, particularly that of 2006 where I emerged from the week having been exposed not just to excellent cinema but also a wealth of knowledge to which I’d hitherto been blind. My choice of films, as usual, leaned towards the dark and depressing, that which forced me to step back and think and probe deeper into the ways of the world, in the vain attempt at understanding it better…the films of Spanish director, Pedro Almodovar, did precisely that and have left me questioning much about the way relationships work and far more significantly, how many of us realize that we really stand no chance in escaping the screwed up schema of the cosmos of relationships!

Live Flesh (Carne Trémula), apparently inspired by a Ruth Rendell novel, is a dark, yet hopeful tale of a series of relationships that took off one tragic night that marked the lives of all the characters. Entwined almost excruciatingly, the lives of the six characters take a steep turn onto a path that leads them to much pain and amazingly freedom. Victor, visiting a junkie, Elena, with whom he’d had his first sexual experience, is wrongly convicted for having shot an officer when the police arrive to investigate. Several years later, when Victor steps out of prison burning with the desire for revenge, he finds the Elena married to the injured officer, David, and leading an apparently fulfilling life. The steps he takes to ensure that he is firmly implanted in her life, not only pull the other characters, Clara and Sancho into the plot, but also eventually lead to redemption for all of them.

While there is no obvious similarity, Live Flesh, like Closer, forced me to think about relationships, their foundations and our reasons for entering them and staying there, often at a very high price. The film is definitely worth a watch, for sheer cinematic brilliance, powerful performances and above all for its ability to screw up your mind so completely. Sensual, dark, compelling - each frame of this film speaks volumes. The attention to detail, the symbolism, and the brutal honesty is remarkable. Almodovar won my loyalty with the very first film I saw – nothing like a mindfuck (pardon my language) to make you sit up and think…and what is cinema if it doesn’t make you think?

Traversing the Life on my Two Feet

In a country that discourages walking as a mode of transport even though it’s almost imperative with our increasing levels of traffic congestion and pollution, I obstinately walk around and it has always aggravated me that there are so few footpaths on our streets and so few provisions made for pedestrians. In the recent past, sitting next to a very dear friend who has recently acquired a vehicle and is getting increasingly confident (and consequently sometimes cocky) on the roads of Pune, I have heard the pedestrians being cursed often for their jaywalking and their refusal to consider the difficulty of the person driving the vehicle when s/he has to suddenly slow down/break/maneuver so as to avoid hitting the pedestrian. Accepting the argument I felt like a silent traitor, for oft have I waited helplessly for endless minutes waiting for the inconsiderate drivers to slow down and let me cross the road, considering that there are no pedestrian signals and zebra crossings are mere road decorations. Few drivers pay heed to traffic rules, then why do we curse the pedestrian so much when he /she tries to pave his/her own way through the mindless traffic swarming our streets? Is the pedestrian really left with much choice? Smoother, broader roads are the need of the hour, as are traffic signals that work. Flyovers would go a long way in speeding up the flow of traffic. But how about some more footpaths for pedestrians, enforcing the respect of zebra crossings and putting into effect pedestrian signals?

That said, I must admit I have been almost blissfully content with the miles I have covered (so to say) in the last few weeks, walking as I am regularly each evening. Exercise apart; it gives me the much needed opportunity to soak in the beauty around me and to sort out those insanely enmeshed thoughts that threaten to ensnare me in their dark web. The increased visits to the University, strolling towards the Y-point, meandering over to the main building and occasionally venturing beyond to where lies that absolutely charming watch-tower surrounded my marshy weeds have also been such a source of peace and joy. Amen.

PS PIFF 2008 happened - I attended ofcourse but was heartily disappointed by the pick of films, the organisation as well as the crowd. Nevertheless some good films have been watched, particularly those of Pedro Almodovar and insha allah we shall blog about those soon!

On Resolutions and More...

Of the few New Year resolutions I made this year, were getting back into shape and shaking myself out of the apathetic lethargy into which I had slipped during the last year and a half, especially in the last few months, and start doing the things that I used to enjoy so much. Ironically enough, the first one proved to be easier, despite involving physical effort, and I started my evening walks on the very first day of the New Year which I am enjoying so much that there is actually a high likelihood of them continuing! Apart from the fact that it’s great to be walking again and that particular stretch I traverse each evening is absolutely pretty and it makes my heart lighter crossing that pristine park and seeing those children play football against the backdrop of verdant hills, with a cool breeze blowing and fanning the tendrils of hair that are slowly starting to stick to my forehead with the perspiration, the regular exercise is actually making a big difference on the way I feel about myself as well. And then there are already the familiar faces and voices…there is this aaji who has her saree pallu pulled tightly around her shoulders to shield her from the cold, and the middle-aged couple of which the husband is a definite b******, the ladies who walk down to the market complete in their synthetic salwar-kurtas and sports shoes ready to take on the world with their battle-tank march down the road and of course the golden Labrador that insists on being patted and only then will she move on…but I think the best, is the three elderly gentlemen who sit on this low wall just inside my colony that I cross each evening on my way back home. The snippets of conversation I catch, about the kind of education they had back then, how their son brought home some ridiculously expensive gadget they can’t fathom, or how they fought valiantly against ignorance and corruption in their work place and all this in that slightly shaky deep baritone one associates with nice old uncles, are such a hark back to the generation of my eldest uncle and so completely reminiscent of small-town India that it brings a smile to my face immediately. Strange, how these scenes, at which I would have rolled my eyes or even looked down my nose a few years ago, today make me smile and wish we don’t lose this quintessentially Indian charm completely. If not for the other motivating factor/s I think I would continue to step out each evening just to catch those uncles gossiping about the yesteryears…

On the latter, however, I have been procrastinating and if not for the Amnesiac who has pushed and nagged me on other issues as well, I would have pushed this on the backburner once again. But nagged I have been, and books have been pushed into my hands and orders have been given to read, and so I am reading once again. Last year’s Booker winner, Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss. My niece gifted the book to me last year, and I thought I should read atleast one booker and approve of it, but it doesn’t look like that is likely. Fifteen chapters down, and the story has not yet taken off and those descriptions of India are beginning to grate on my nerves. When will we stop catering to the foreign audience while describing India and its habitants? Can’t anyone come up with a mature, realistic Indian novel that presents a story with panache rather than merely presenting a stylized albeit stereotyped India? Of the Indian authors I read in my Literature days, her mother Anita Desai hadn’t particularly impressed me but I could see merits in her writing. She however missed the Booker. It fails me then completely, the reason why her daughter not only won the Booker but accolades for her work that continue to come forth in wave after wave…and I don’t think I shall change my opinion even after having finished reading the book...

Stock-taking...

Standing at the threshold of yet another new year, I decide to indulge in some traditional rituals. After all the end of a year and the start of a New Year does call for cleaning up and stock-taking, doesn’t it?

A year that started in Bangalore with Ma and I bringing in the New Year surrounded by family, is ending in a full circle with us bidding adieu to it with some of our companions in the revelry from last year’s party. It has actually been a year of coming to a full circle and finding closure on several fronts…painfully screwed up at times, I’ve faced some bitter truths, learnt that sometimes you simply have to be ruthless and cut people out of your life however painful it may be. I’ve dealt with losses that revived the smoldering pain of a loss that I still haven’t come to terms with and probably never will. I’ve dealt with inefficiency, ineptness and an absolute lack of basic intelligence coupled with some really juvenile and yet nasty politics and learnt to hold back my anger, manipulate and work things around. I’ve come into my own, learnt to put my foot down and spoken my mind at the risk of some severe professional damage.

On the upside, an absolutely marvelous opportunity was seized and I did what I’ve dreamed of doing ever since I was twelve or thirteen – traveled with one of my best friends. Discovering Europe with K shall remain one of my most treasured memories – we’ve always understood each other, but I think our understanding and acceptance of each others eccentricities and weaknesses is so much more now. Thanks, K, for being there. I’ve made some fabulous new friends in Spain, Switzerland and Serbia, come closer to others in France and here as well…on the home front I’ve discovered a pair of arms that will envelop me in their warmth offering comfort and a set of ears that will listen to me rant and rave, even if it is at the price of suffering endless hours of repeated conversation! ;-) All forgiven in love and war, isn’t it Extempore? I’ve rediscovered a friend whom I’d missed sorely. A friendship that has stood the tests of life I really wonder now how I managed without this friend by my side. From coming so close to giving up, I’ve rediscovered hope, I’ve finally understood what it is to fall asleep at night peace prevailing in my mind and happiness spreading in my heart.

The next year promises to be challenging – personally and professionally. If miles were traversed this year, many more are waiting to be treaded upon. Much struggle and much growth lie ahead – I must be insane for I am not daunted, but almost waiting to bite the bit, as it were! Here’s to a challenging, fulfilling and peaceful 2008!

Immortal Connections

In a day and age where people often lack the inclination to even lift the phone to call their friends, I still treasure the practice of writing letters, sending cards on festive occasions and sending postcards when I’m traveling. A habit that had suffered greatly with the invasion of internet and emails, my dear friend P, who travels a great deal revived the habit by sending me postcards from each of her myriad travel destinations in her motherland France, Europe, North Africa and Canada. So it is that I have a decent collection of postcards through which I, too, have traveled; postcards that I treasure as much as the postcards Papa used to send me from his trips to Europe when I was a child.

Papa would also bring back postcards that captured in timeless beauty the many places he visited on his umpteen trips to Europe on work. Somewhere along the way, as his trips got busier leaving him little time to do sight-seeing the number of postcards dwindled and I, too, stopped asking for them. P’s postcards renewed my hunger for them and so on his last couple of trips Papa brought back some really exquisite postcards from Switzerland, which I hope to frame some day. Sorting through my collection of postcards (received or bought on my own trips to Europe) I came across a thick envelope filled with the postcards Papa had bought. Much to my surprise I found there postcards of Cologne, which I hadn’t known he’d visited and then I came across a collection of postcards depicting Chagall’s stain-glass windows in the Musée Chagall in Nice, dedicated to the “Biblical Message’.

Having visited both Cologne and Nice (where I had been dragged a little reluctantly to see the Musée Chagall, an artist I knew little of and thus wasn’t very interested in seeing his work – am I grateful to K now for taking me there!) I found myself filled anew with regret that I can’t share with Papa, what I’ve seen and experienced . Having finally reached an age, maturity level and garnered enough experience and insight into various subjects I yearn to be able to discuss all of it with Papa, making me miss him so much more.

If I hadn’t already absolutely loved and been awed by what I saw at the Musée Chagall and decided to buy some day, reprints (just like one of the Degas’ series) of either his brilliant paintings in which he uses vibrant colours like the brightest of yellows, reds and blues or the absolutely stunningly beautiful stain-glass paintings, all of which lean heavily on Biblical imagery, I do now. The only difference being that I will no longer have to buy them when I do have my own house, for Papa has left behind the most perfect collection for me to frame.

Thank you Papa.

I should have known you’d always be there for me irrespective of where you are. Never again will I doubt it.

For more on Marc Chagall, visit Artchive.

Tarikhi-Hind

The friend has a new blog. He wrote stories that I loved to tear apart, refusing to acknowledge that he is a published writer and I am not.Then he wrote posts at which I rolled my eyes and posted photographs which I criticised. It vexed me to say anything vaguely complimentary to him and I waited for an opportunity to go for the jugular. I still do, but this time I am forced to admit that he writes well and he knows his stuff. Grumpf.

Go read Tales of a Land Five Thousand Years New. He's only just started, but if he proceeds as planned then this promises to be an interesting one! God how it pinches to say that ;-)

Literary Mosaic

At the prodding of Extempore and the Amnesiac, I toyed with the idea of rejuvenating Literary Mosaic, where I once posted book reviews (apart from some rather pathetic attempts at writing fiction). I’ve been gnawing over it for several weeks and couldn’t come to a decision. But today, after one of the most perfect days I’ve had, a day that has left me so much at peace with myself that after the longest time I slipped in the disc of my favourite retro music and actually grooved to it as I typed away, my creative and critical bent surging to the fore with a vengeance, I knew it was time to revive my Literary Musings…

People it’s a pleasure to announce to you that Literary Mosaic is once again welcoming visitors (and comments). I've just reviewed The Girl from the Chartreuse, a book that I read over a year ago, a book that touched me with its incredibly pure eloquency, poignancy and richness of language.

Renaissance...

Browsing through the archives, looking for something (yes I’m perpetually looking for things) I was struck by how much I used to blog earlier. Most of it isn’t worth a mention and is really better forgotten, but there is a lot in the archives that actually shines through all the mediocrity…and suddenly I realised that back then, I was a better reader, not restricting to myself to any one genre or style of writing and thus a far more prolific writer who wrote with a comfort that is very evident in the words... bringing me to my first resolution for 2008. Read. Read. Read. There’s a huge backlog of books waiting to be read and it’s about time I gave them some attention. Just waiting for this session to get over, so I can completely overhaul the lifestyle which has pretty much gone for a toss in the past four months…

On What Lies Under Our Noses!

Ever searched the whole house, turning cupboards upside down in your desperate hunt for that thing that was lying in plain view right in the middle of the table all along? Well, I am quite an expert at it; I've given people much stress when I can't find that thing I'm looking for, and then been at the receiving end of many irate looks when I found the thing in the most obviously evident place which I refused to look at, because it couldn't possibly be there. I seem to have done it again...and boy do I feel like an idiot about all that time I wasted hunting for something that was right under my nose all along...and I don't even have a big nose! Sheesh!

Muchly Jaded, Ironically Re-enchanted.

Words Walk completed a year in Pune today – his post took me back to June ’04 when I first moved to this hamlet. There was little the city could do right and I grabbed every opportunity I got to run back to Bombay, the city I still like to think of as home. Pune for all means and purposes underlined my loneliness and my lack of independence. Till I met the man who made me discover Pune in a way that I couldn’t help but start falling in love with its charms. In the past two years I’ve had to distance myself from that Pune, caught up in the rather distressing realities of life. The last two weeks have brought many opportunities to reacquaint myself with that charming Pune and though it’s been an exhausting week that has left me drained, weary and vaguely jaded there is a deep-sated content slowly warming my heart and I can’t help but smile as glimpses of last week mingle with memories from 2005.

Extempore, who was visiting last week complete with her infectious gregariousness and photography apparel provided the perfect opportunity and so I found myself back at the Y-point at the Pune University over breakfast of upma and chai and animated discussions…dominated primarily by Extempore who can easily out-talk even my most talkative student ;-). A languid hour later I led her up the tree-shaded steps to the main building which though fenced in for restoration work, still charmed the socks off Extempore. Meandering through the grounds I led her to the watch-tower amidst the marshy weeds that I had fallen in love with when I was first introduced to it. After a most sumptuous meal at Arthur’s Theme, which just had to be finished with their heavenly lemon soufflé, we allowed ourselves to get lost in the by lanes of Koregaon Park, till we reached the Nala Park. Paradise created around filthy sewer water, there is something absolutely bewitching about this park. (Needless to say Extempore with her quintessential bindaas spirit paid no heed to the rules prohibiting photography and got some beautiful shots.)

My knees may have protested and my eyes may have struggled to stay open and I may have been "muchly" drained by the end of the day, but the happiness spreading inside made every ache and pain worthwhile…as did the crazily meandering conversations that were thrust on me. Discomfited initially, no longer accustomed to being hounded to talk about my feelings and dark thoughts, I felt much better having finally voiced aloud a thought that I had been nursing like a nasty wound. The inky blackness I stare at on my way home, seeking answers desperately still has none forthcoming, but the emptiness doesn’t seem as daunting. Why? Perhaps because of the knowledge that I have not lost all, and a vague notion that something wonderful might still waiting around the corner. Or perhaps because I’ve decided that it’s time for closure. Or perhaps because I once again have one of my cherished friends back in my life.

Ask Yourself If You’re Happy and You Cease to Be…

Happiness = Pleasure = Joy = Delight = Elation = Euphoria = Rapture = Jubilation = Bliss = Ecstasy.

The sheer number of synonyms for this emotion that we seek so desperately is testament to the fact that happiness comes in many forms. That it eludes most of us is a completely different matter together. I won’t pretend otherwise – oft have I wondered in the last year and a half why pure, complete joy doesn’t feature more prominently in the grand scheme of things, particularly in the scheme that features me. The raw anger burning inside my system is fast burning away every last vestige of optimism that once pushed me. No longer do I believe in happy endings, nor do I continue to believe that good things happen to good people. It doesn’t quite work that way in this world, and so it is that the rage inside me fuels my every movement, very often leaving me worn out. Hardly a wonder that I constantly feel so listless and sleep-deprived! ;-)

Much to my surprise then, when the last week proved to be almost blissful, so peaceful it was despite that uncalled for kick below the belt that life deemed necessary. A week of calm (we’ll just ignore those two nasty temper displays) and long conversations with Ma. Toss in simple yet delicious meals, the wonderful sensation (even if occasionally irritating) of Schnapps sleeping at my feet, thus warming them through the blanket, retail therapy and this Plain Jane just feels so much nicer. The icing on the cake of course were those two lovely afternoons spent with one of my closest friends; a friend who I’ve missed much in the last one year, with whom I can wrangle over the silliest things, tease unceasingly, butt heads over the most inane and sometimes most important issues and come out laughing, my sprit so much lighter and with whom I can truly be myself, share my darkest worries and my strangest thoughts knowing that nothing but understanding will await me on the other side. Friday afternoon at the University, soaking in the sun, drinking chai and chatting sent me back to those languid summer afternoons we spent avoiding the sun under that canopy of trees, drinking chai or nimbu pani, talking, bickering, laughing…and left me quite happy.

Let There Be Sunshine...

…well not really but it sounds weird to say let there be diyalight. Compromises are inevitable and so here also. The one festival I truly celebrate and look forward to right from Ganesh Chaturthi and Raksha Bandhan, Diwali for me comes wrapped in this wonderful glow of magical warmth …and let that not be misinterpreted as the uncomfortably stifling warmth generated by the fireworks! Diwali represents new clothes (but ofcourse!), mouthwatering gujiyas, malpuas, kheer and meetha chawal, family get-togethers and the traditional Lakshmi pooja. I resented Papa’s absence last year and celebrated Diwali half-heartedly, as a mere obligation without gleaning any joy from the festivities. His absence still hurts, but it was easier this year seeing others sit where he always sat and performing the rites that were his…easier also to find joy in the small things that made this festival so dear to me...

Here’s hoping and praying that the spirit of Diwali sustains through out the new year and that it brings much joy, success and sunshine (ahem) into our lives!

Jab We Met - review

Last night when the plan to go watch this latest Bollywood flick creating waves along with two of my nieces, was enforced on me I was most disgruntled, feeling extrmemely manipulated and certain that I’d return ranting and raving as I normally do after having watched typical Bollywood fare! Imagine my surprise then, when I didn’t! I don’t remember the last big-budget, typical Bollywood romance-music-dhamaal film I enjoyed. Jab We Met, doesn’t offer anything new vis-à-vis story-line, neither were the performances earth-shattering, and yes I did wonder (yet again) why Indian film makers are so fond of show-casing our country for the foreigner’s eye. But yes, the film makers have succeeded in maintaining a reasonnably entertaining pace that doesn’t drag at any point complimented by a fun, young soundtrack, and yes for a change I didn’t feel like slapping Kareena Kapoor. As for Shahid Kapoor – I’ve watched him run like a lamb behind his college sweetheart (who at that time we all thought would be more successful than him in the tinsel-world, but boy, have we been proven wrong!) and held my stomach rolling with laughter as he struggled to convince Mrs. S the strictest of professors in our department to accept his First year B.A Literature project on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice a novel that was part of the prescribed syllabus and thus not accepted as project work and...and I have to grudgingly admit that this boy we loved to joke about has succeeded in making his place. Sure he isn’t even half the actor his father is, but he isn’t as bad as I thought he was…and he sure can move! I was super impressed with his foot-work in the “Mauja” number! Surprise number 2: I’ve actually been humming several songs from the soundtrack ever since I got home...and wishing more than ever that I hadn't given up dance lessons when I did, 'coz my feet are sure itching to dance. Alas but they aren't trained to move nicely! Sigh.

Grumpf. Gah. Ok I admit it, I actually enjoyed the film!

Welcome Winter...

A Bombay girl, I didn’t really know what it felt like to experience major climatic changes from summer to winter till I moved to Pune in 2004. We moved to Pune just as summer was bidding goodbye to the city so I missed the heat the first year. Having spent the winter of 2003 in Germany and survived three months in temperatures that mostly stayed below 10° not to mention the visit to a country where the winter sun lasts for a bare 3-4 hours a day and temperatures went down to -21º , I didn’t really feel the brunt of my first winter in Pune, despite the fact that we stayed in an area where temperatures were generally 2-3 degrees below the rest of the city!

Now, three years later, I know I abhor summer in Pune. I’d rather endure the humidity of Bombay even if it means having sweat trickling down my forehead fifteen minutes after a refreshingly cold shower. The dry, scorching heat of Pune makes me pray each and every day for the rains to come!

Winter, is a different story! To be able to walk out of the house wearing a turtle-neck and a jacket, or wrap a woolen scarf around my neck or snuggle into my shawl is an absolute delight…not to mention the pleasure of shivering slightly in the early morning chill as the breeze slaps my face lightly on my way to work!

Walking back home a few weeks back I shivered slightly as I crossed the park, the evening breeze making my bare arms break into goose bumps. The next morning I stepped out of the house fitted out smartly in my black jacket. Yes, winter is making its presence felt in the city and it’s hugely welcome! I’m already waiting impatiently for the temperatures to drop further so the new blue sweater may be worn and the muchly favoured camel sweater and the pink cashmere sweater may be worn once again! :-)

Tagged (three months ago!)

Before I proceed, I pay my respects to the empress, Shilpa, bowing low in front of her! Why empress, you ask? Well because I’ve delayed the tag by over 8 weeks when the deadline was 8 days and thus I have no choice but to accept her as the supreme lady of all that she surveys...well, atleast on the blog! ;-)

I hereby declare the following eight facts about me that you might or might not know:

1. I have a weakness for Mehrwaan’s Lemon Tart and Lemon Roll, Sweet Chariot’s Rustic Chocolate Mousse and any good Cheese Cake…
2. It drives me up the wall to walk into class every morning and find it in disarray.
3. I rarely let go of friends, but if pushed beyond my limits of endurance I cut people out of my life, without a second thought, never to look back.
4. I am a complete Retro Eighties child when it comes to music
5. I recently shot off an irate email to my boss, putting my future at AFP at risk.
6. At least once a week back I walk back home - not the entire way, just the last 3 km.
7. Never really a tele-baby, I have pretty much stopped watching television since 2003 and am generally very clued-out of popular culture.
8. I plan each and every class meticulously, jotting down the "parcours du cours" right down to the last detail .

Phew. Done. I can now safely meet the empress without worrying about repercussions for not having carried out her orders. ;-)

Tagging – anybody who wants to post a fun, non-consequential post :-)

For Papa...

Papa's birthday today - we had a havan at home to commemorate the day and the panditji commented on how it was the first time he'd been asked to conduct a havan to mark the birth anniversary and not the death anniversary. He thought it exemplary.

I could not help but wonder why I wouldn't want to commemorate the day my father was born. I'm glad I told Ma I wanted to get an Arya Samaji havan conducted today...I think I coped surprisingly well. The Arya Samaji rituals do indeed have the powers to induce peace and calm within me. I have Papa to thank for that as well, for I went to Arya Vidya Mandir because of him and it was him, who first asked me to chant the Gayatri Mantra to rein in my mind when it refused to behave...I miss you Papa. Am so proud to be your daughter....wish I had done more to express it when I had the opportunity.

Bibliovore

Alas, but no more can I call myself a Bibliovore, for it has been months since I last devoured a book!

Koyla - The Hyderabad House

Of the many restaurants my Niveau 1 students have cited as an answer to the question “Vous aimez quel restaurant?” (Which restaurant do you like?), Koyla has been a name I’ve heard several times. I have to say, my attitude towards the restaurant had always been diffident.

To start with, we landed there only as a last resort since restaurants were already full at 8h30 (if you please!). Not exactly a family that believes in queuing up for our food, we thought we’d give this place a chance. Secondly, I’m not the greatest fan of Mughlai cuisine – in this case, Hyderabadi cuisine – since it generally tends to be rather heavy and spicy, not exactly catering to my tastes. I am Indian, but that doesn’t mean I like to swallow every morsel of food with a gulp of water, sniff constantly throughout the meal and leave the table with a terrible burning sensation on my tongue chased all the way down to the stomach! Spicy food does not translate into good food. Not in my dictionary. For me, to come away appreciative of a restaurant that offers that genre of cuisine, means that the food is truly par excellence. Nothing but the most perfectly spiced (read subtly spiced, not over-spiced), succulent food offered in the subtle, comfortable and classy environment by efficient staff can please me. Take the not so distant experience at Bombay Brasserie for example. I was disgusted. Completely.

I wouldn’t say that my reaction to Koyla is very different. The hesitation towards the cuisine was coupled with doubt about the ambience, having been completely put-off by its very entrance, a very heavy, over-ornate door with a garish canopy and very uncalled for dim lighting that makes you stumble on the way in….it goes without saying that the interiors were a continuation of the entrance. I have never found any restaurant as distasteful as this one – the “designer” obviously thought that covering every inch of wall space with gaudy, tacky faux objects reminiscent of Hyderabad’s rich Nizami history would charm and awe the restaurants clientele. Quite the contrary. I felt “quichéd” to use a French idiom. Cramped, dingy, garish are the three adjectives that come to the mind when I think of Koyla.

The experience continued with the appalling service….which reminds me, pray enlighten me someone, why do restaurateurs put things in the menu which are never available? I’m fed-up of being told that they do not serve Khubani ka meetha and that the Gulab Jamun is worth trying! If you don’t serve it, what the hell is it doing in the menu? And no, I don’t want to have Gulab Jamun; I can have that at home any time thank you! Digressions apart, so the personnel was most unhelpful and aloof vis-à-vis recommendations, not to mention ignorant. The food, when it did arrive, was unsatisfactory for all the noise made about the quality of food at this restaurant – as expected it was spicy, despite reassurances that we’d ordered “a non-spicy dish.” I think I should redefine non-spicy as something that makes my nose run and ensures I drink my 1l quota of water per day during one meal itself! To top it all, the second round of rotis ordered when the food was first served to us showed up (after 3 reminders) after we’d spooned the last of the “eye-watering” food. When we refused to accept the rotis, they simply took it away without a hint of any apology….and none came forth even as we settled the account and left the restaurant.

A completely abominable experience. The bloody place needs to be boycotted and forced into losses…and the next student that claims its his/her favourite restaurant is going to fall rapidly in my eyes!

PS On the same note of disappointing gastronomic experiences, I must say Garden court was also rather dismal. Terrible service and unexciting food killed the pleasure of eating out in the open with the city of Pune spread out in front of my eyes.

PPS Before you attack me Extempore, yes, I know that Mughlai cuisine and Hyderabadi cuisine is different – I was just trying to broadly categorise all that has anything to do with kebabs, biryani, murg, gosht et al! Peace! ;-)

L'Auberge Espagnole

A Cédric Klapisch film, starring Romain Duris in the leading role of Xavier and Audrey Tuatou (of Le Fabuleux Destin Amélie Poulain) as his girlfriend, Martine, L’Auberge Espagnole is an absolutely fabulous film!.

The friend takes off with the departure of Xavier for Barcelona where he studies economy for a year as a student of the ERASMUS exchange programme. He initially shacks up with a young French couple he meets on his arrival at Barcelona, till he finds the ideal arrangement, an apartment that he shares with six other ERASMUS students. Over the course of one year, Xavier stumbles over various problems and confronts the typical confusions of any young student in his situation. He parties and has the time of his life with his friends, even as he learns and grows with each new experience that they all share together. Everything takes off from the central point of the l’aubgerge espagnole, the Spanish apartment. At the end of the film, many experiences riches, Xavier finally begins to truly understand himself and his true calling…

The film concentrates on the question of identity (personal/national/European) that dogs all young people across the world. It highlights with effective ease and style the life of young students living abroad, presenting the humorous as well as the stressful moments of that life.

A film with crazy situations that make you scream with laughter, there isn’t a single moment where you would reach for the fast-forward button on that remote control. Excellent acting (particularly by Kevin Bishop who plays the obnoxious William), great music, this is a film for all those who are young at heart, who understand what a pain it is to be twenty-something and completely screwed up in the head and for those who are tuned into the current situation in Europe where national identities are becoming increasingly fuzzy with the creation of the EU.

After having watched the film four times, I can confidently recommend the film – I showed it to two sets of students this week and they can vouch for it as well! Go rent the DVD for the nearest DVD parlour and watch it this weekend! :-)

Read the corresponding review in French here

Is it Time?

Is it time yet to give up? I think not, and thus I continue to wage the war despite the dying strength and will power. But I am tired now, really tired. Have given up all attempts (read pretense) at being strong, at having faced the rude loss of my father and coped with it excellently. I miss him with every second that passes by and I refuse to pretend otherwise anymore, irrespective of how uncomfortable it makes people around me. Perhaps I'm being selfish and unreasonable about it. I don't care anymore. I think I've endured enough to be allowed this luxury - yes it is indeed a luxury to let your true feelings show, to wallow in the misery that has been a part of your life for over a year, a misery that has just increased several times over with the unchanging status of my missing bag. Yes, I know I sound insane but losing that bag is like losing Papa all over again...and I don't think I'll ever recover from this loss...

Am hoping and praying with all my heart that this festive season doesn't have any dark clouds overshadowing it and does indeed bring along with it reasons to rejoice...*crossing my fingers tight*

...meanwhile the struggle to knock sense into stubborn students insisting on repeating level 1 mistakes one-third of their way into level 2, commuting to-n-fro twice a day in the abominable Pune public transport (I refuse to even consider investing in my own mode of transport) and dealing with inefficient staff at the administrative level keeps me on my toes, occupied and exhausted...yes, the life is quite "happening" indeed.

Confused

Somewhere, along the way to reaching where I stand today, something went wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this...

Another Year Down...

Another year down...a year older, perhaps wiser, smarter, more mature and richer in experiences, but also more cynical without those rose-tinted glasses I wore till last year. I didn't want to do anything today - didn't even want to talk to my closest friends. If not for Ma and some of my friends, I'd have probably spent the entire day curled up in bed, reading. It started off yesterday with a friend dropping in for the quickest visit ever, just to give me pre-birthday wishes and the biggest bouquet I've ever received. That gesture alone warmed the heart that had been lying bruised and battered all week...another friend refused to back down despite cold emails asking not to be bothered. She called on Ma's cellphone when she couldn't get through mine, scolded me, made me switch on mine and reminded me that I am made of stronger stuff and can't give up so soon, so easily. The last one week has been of much musing, pensive, punishing walks back home, battling the tears and the negative thoughts and I had come so close to giving up, but for the few people whose refusal to give up on me and their insistence on pushing me back...many revelations, many personal decisions taken this week. I hope I'm strong enought to stick to them all! Amen!

It was a very quiet birthday this year. I spent the day largely in the company of Ma - and the only thing that could have topped that would be having Papa there. Unrealistic, so I can't say I have any real complaints with the day...have been pampered with a surprise shopping excursion. Ironically I ended up buying more for the others than for myself, which made the family decide a second excursion was in order and in a short span of 15 minutes I walked out of FabIndia with three new things to add to my wardrobe. Well I did tell friends that they shouldn't gift me books this year since I was a rather clothes/jewellery deprived individual and in desperate need for clothes! Dinner with the family at Sigree, was a very satisfying affair. Excellent service, great food coupled with a perfect ambience...yes it was a quiet birthday spent with those who matter the most and I wouldn't have had it any other way!

Euro-Rail V

Even though not enamoured by the city of the famed la Cathédrale de Notre Dame, la Tour Eiffel, l’Arc de Triomphe et l’Arche de la Défénse, l’Obélisque/ Place de la Concorde, le musée du Louvre, la Sacré Coeur (my most favoured monument parisien), the city of the high fashion, the city of the metro, I always wanted to visit it and to feel that rush from atop the Eiffel with the French capital lying below me. My first trip to Paris (December 2003) was as perfect as it could be – a low-budget trip made in the company of my friend from Bordeaux, P, it was ideally planned and I covered more in those three short days in Paris than most people cover in a week. Sure I didn’t enter a single museum, in a city famed for its museums, I didn’t visit Le Moulin Rouge or Lido, I didn’t shop at Champs Élysées, but in those 72 hours I discovered Paris through the eyes of someone who knew the city, who admired it with a certain level of objectivity and the same sense of aesthetics and cultural interest as me.

(At the Temple de Madeleine - taken, obviously by K)

I wanted to go back, not so much so cover what I missed last time, but to go back to the streets and places that most charmed me on my first visit and spend time there and most importantly to spend time with Kitana. I didn’t achieve most of what I wanted to do, for various reasons, my missing bag being the biggest of them all, marking it as an incomplete sojourn in many ways, but I did discover a different Paris this time…

Paris, of the famed Catacombs, which despite all the warnings of being spooky and not for those with a frail heart, weren’t the least bit frightening. Interesting, but after a point a little too boney, if you get my point ;-)
Paris, of Paris Plage, a crazy idea, that only a French-man could come up with, of dumping tons of sand by the banks of the Seine to convert it into a beach every summer, so that Parisiens who couldn’t head to the beach for summer are not deprived!
Paris, home to Shakespeare and Co, paradise on earth for book-lovers and amateur writers. It applied the must needed balm to my bruised spirit at the right time. I would have broken down completely, if not for that visit to this amazing bookstore opposite Notre Dame (needless to say, even Shakespeare and Co would have been helpless if not for Kitana)

Biggest Regrets: Not being able to spend that completely mad, crazy moment with Kitana, or catch up peacefully with A (who had traveled all the way from Magdeburg to spend time with me), friends I cherish and don’t get to spend enough time with because of the miles separating us…and most of all, letting the dark cloud of worry consuming me, cast its shadow on K, Kitana and A’s break.

...and with this, I finally complete my Euro-Rail series! :-)

Surreal Reality...

Euro-Rail IV

Germany seemed so familiar even though this was completely new territory, a region that I hadn’t trespassed before. Yet it felt so right to be standing at Köln Hauptbahnhof; even the language barrier didn’t upset me much this time! I do, however, think it’s high time I got around to realizing that dream of learning German – at least the basics.

Our host’s house charmed me completely, at least the ground floor did, for I never saw the first floor which housed his “private quarters” – the entry is through a building which opens into a semi-private courtyard (reminiscent of the “traboules” of Lyon) covered with creepers and weeds, beyond which lay his cottage. Utterly delightful and bewitching!

Köln itself was not quite what I expected – much more depressing than I’d projected it to be and far too grey and wet for my idea of a German summer….we couldn’t do much because of the weather and because of lack of guidance forthcoming from the host, who seemed to be extremely reticent about telling us what can be seen and done in and around his city thus making Köln seem rather dull and dreary which it really isn’t... (But then our host could take up an entire post by himself, so let's not even tread in that direction!)

Yet I don’t really regret making the trip for it gave me an opportunity to spend time with A – she hasn’t changed a bit; she’s still the same mad, adorable, warm and stubborn A I knew back in Magdeburg 2003. I take time to befriend someone, but I generally choose my friends well. ;-) So we basically saw the Cathedral which is almost synonymous with Köln and walked around the shopping district till our bodies bruised and battered by the grey, wet and windy day screamed for rest and alcohol and we found ourselves at a local brewery. That was a delightful, since it was this warm, noisy place where everyone seemed to arrive with the sole purpose of drinking beer and having a good time, which we did! Spent a long time at the Ludwig modern art museum, which was quite satisfying, but I wonder whether I traveled all the way to Köln to spend a day inside a museum. I did, however buy a wonderful print of Andrew Warhol's "La Nana Noire" for bhaiyya's office and am extremely pleased with that purchase! Walked by the river and around the old city till we found the Rathaus (town hall) which despite our best efforts we simply couldn’t appreciate with the rain coming down on our heads and our shoes and jeans getting rapidly wet…

Now on my way back to Paris to spend the last few whirlwind days there – ironically I not very excited about Paris per se, since my thoughts are totally and completely centered on my bag now – it has ceased to be a parallel stream of thought running along side the stream that pushed me to explore Barcelona, relax in Bordeaux or chill out in Köln. I really hope the bag has reached Paris and that I get it when I reach there – I’m so tired of wearing recycled undergarments and borrowed clothes…am also looking forward to getting back home since I’m quite homesick by now, with all that I’ve faced – oh how I miss Papa…

Euro-Rail III

Barcelona – a city that emanates creativity, evident in the facades of its buildings. Synonymous with Antonio Gaudi, the architect behind the Park Guell, Casa Batllo, La Pedrera and of course his most famous project, the colossal La Sagrada Familia. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and frankly by the time I got there I didn’t care much about what I’d see…but I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t enthralled by the colourful facades that curved and twisted and dipped and rose, abundant with creative craftsmanship, screaming out loud the madness behind the genius that designed them. The fairy-tale appearance of Park Guell with its lizards and its brilliant mosaics, the intense detailing of La Sagrada Familia, a work in progress that sent chills racing down my spine, the vibrancy of the streets winding down the older quarters of the city, the warmth of my hostess (someone who I’d known for barely a fortnight, who not only welcomed me into her home making me as comfortable as possible but has been helping me ever since – the next time someone tells me that it’s impossible to find warmth in foreigners and make true friends abroad, remind me to sock them in their nose!) and her friends with whom we shared some delightful Spanish meals and many a light moment…all of it made the trip worthwhile! We walked endlessly through-out the day and were ready to collapse by evening, yet summoned the energy to step out for dinner and mingle with our newly-made friends even when our legs were protesting and threatening to fold under us!

The highlight of course was that last evening, sitting around a table on a roof-top terrace trying our best to overcome language barriers and understand each others’ countries, cultures and languages ;-) drinking wine from a kettle-like carafe with a spout, laughing, enjoying….I want to go back someday, spend more time seeing and knowing the city…and most importantly spend time with B, O and co.

Bordeaux, in stark contrast was all about relaxing, about stretching out lazily on a Sunday afternoon in a park, watching the ducks and swans swim past, idly talking about literature and politics, about art and economics, about culture and technologies, about life…I wish I hadn’t had to cut short that trip, I wish I’d had the foresight to re-organise the rest of the trip so I could have spent more time with P and B, I wish I’d had more spirit to show K around. I’m glad we didn’t end up fighting that first afternoon when my nerves were stretched taut as a wire (and I’m reasonably certain, so were his…) and I’m glad I could take him to the Quinconces where we got to spend a quiet moment together.

I really hope I get a chance to go back soon. While my first trip to Bordeaux was all about discovery, this one was about re-acquaintance. I was utterly charmed last time; this time I know that if I ever go back to France to study/stay for short duration, it will be to Bordeaux , and not just because I have friends there, but because the city has made its place in my heart.

(This entry and the next two had to be edited quite a bit since they were scribbled rather hurriedly in moments stolen between absorbing as much as I could of the city I was visiting, catching up with friends and trying my best not to give up, curl up into a ball and wail in misery)

(Needless to say credit for pics goes to K since my bag is still, well, missing!)

Show me the world...

(Taken in Eze, by K)

Dear visitors,

Please excuse the long absence and the sudden interruption in the Euro-rail series. I've been busy running around, settling into my new work routine and getting the hang of teaching level A2 (yes I've been promoted on that front - now teaching the intermediary level, not just debutants!)..and licking my wounds in solitude!

The series shall be taken up once-again and completed in the next ten days - cross my heart and all that :-)

Your beloved Plain Jane

The Sordid Saga of my Suitcase

After having spent two great days at Lyon, K and I left for the airport with an excited anticipation running through our veins, for Barcelona was to be the high-point of our trip, especially for K. We reached the airport, checked-in and took off with a slight delay, nevertheless looking forward to Spain with enthusiasm…half an hour into the flight (and just another 40 minutes short of arriving at Barcelona), we were informed that we’d have to return to Lyon because of technical problems…so about-turn and we reached Lyon at our scheduled arrival time for Barcelona! A little re-thinking will have to be done for today’s itinerary because of this slight delay, we said to ourselves. After waiting over two hours Air France finally informed us that the next flight to Barcelona is full, so we would have to go there via Madrid - and would reach there at 19:30 instead of the initially planned 10:30! Considering that we didn’t have much of a choice, we accepted, extending (?) our stay in Barcelona by one day and thus changing our tickets to Bordeaux, and shortening our stay there!

We reached Madrid, ensured that Air France and the next airlines Span Air (an airline company at the same level as our good old Air Deccan - worse in my opinion!) would see to it that our bags were transferred and boarded the flight, which was over an hour late - once aboard we were once again informed that there are technical problems and so there would be some more delays! Amazing isn’t it? But the story doesn’t end there…so we tell ourselves that nothing could possible go wrong after this and reach Barcelona at 21:10…after much confusion about where we could collect our bags, we started looking for our bags…which don’t seem to have arrived! It was like a nightmare coming true!

After registering a complaint for the loss of bags, during which my heart kept sinking further and further seeing the number of bags lying in enormous piles all over the bloody airport, we finally exited the airport around 22:20, having lost an entire day! K’s bag reached the next day, but mine didn’t reach till the day we were due to leave and neither company was willing to take responsibility - so I left Barcelona with 3 pairs of clothing which I proceeded to wash, re-wash and wear for the rest of the trip…

My bag reached Barcelona, the evening I left (4th August) and with much relief, I asked my friend to have it forwarded to Paris, hoping it would be there by the time I got back from Cologne. After having waited 10 days for my bag, I finally went to the airport on the 11th, hoping to return triumphantly with my bag in tow…little did I know that Lady Luck wasn’t feeling particularly happy with me…

Kitana and I reached there around 11:00 and spent the whole of the day at Charles de Gaulle, going from terminal 3 to terminal 1 to terminal 2 to terminal 1 to terminal 3 to terminal 1 to terminal 3. It took us over two hours and inquiring at innumerable counters and asking innumerable people to find out that my bag has reached Paris! Triumph, short-lived happiness… because we were then informed that I would still not be able to lay hands on my eagerly awaited Delsey because of some ridiculous bureaucratic procedures…it seems Lufthansa brought the bag to Paris and Swissport is the agency that contacts and delivers the bag to the passenger…now Lufthansa is at terminal 1 and Swissport at terminal 3 (which incidentally are next to each other) but yet another company is responsible for taking the bag from terminal 1 to terminal 3 and apparently that is at terminal 2…let’s complicate things further shall we? So it appears that thousands of bags are lost everyday, despite all that elaborate checking-in procedure and all those labels and it takes them a minimum of a week to process all the bags received at CdG Paris, make an inventory and then forward them to Swissport…as a result Swissport on the 11th of August had received bags that had reached Paris on the 2nd of August! Unbelievable isn’t it? I offered to hunt through the thousands of bags myself, but they couldn’t authorize me to do so - after all I could be a terrorist couldn’t I? In the end I left the airport, defeated, frustrated, angry, and completely exhausted wondering what I’d done to deserve this turn of events that turned my dream vacation into a nightmarish bag-hunt and that had its toll even on K’s vacation and his very first trip to Europe.

Everyone told me to look at it like an adventure and we did initially, but the adventure died somewhere between Barcelona and Paris…they kept telling me that it was just a bag with some clothes, that my family wouldn’t be upset if I returned without gifts for I’d already bought most of them, that they were merely material possessions! How can I possibly not worry about my things? How do I explain to them the value of those possessions - not just monetarily (it would be a huge blow if they were truly lost) but also emotionally? How will I ever be able to replace that gorgeous top Papa brought back from Budapest? Or the manicure set he brought back from Italy? Or the Swarowski earrings that he brought for Ma on his first few trips and which she gifted to me some years back? How will I ever replace those things that he gave me, things I will never ever give away or throw away? How will I possibly replace the bag itself, which was Papa’s and represented to me my father’s trips to Europe, a legacy that I want to carry forward? How could I possibly continue to enjoy myself, and spend money without thinking more than twice each time I reached for my wallet? And how could I not feel bad about having to ask friends to run around and endure the endless bureaucratic procedures so that I receive my bag?

I have returned to Pune without my bag, entrusting Kitana with the honoured task of ensuring my bag is forwarded to Bombay, praying it reaches there safe and sound within the next few days - it’s been over a fortnight since I’ve returned (and exactly a month since my bag was first lost) and there is still no news of my bag…and that is the wonderfully sordid saga of my suitcase!

I knew that I’d experience and learn a lot during this trip, but that I’d experience this much, I had no idea! I’m not sure I wanted to experience all of this and am not sure when I’ll be able to look back at it as an enriching experience or laugh it off…as of now, my only desire is to hear that my bag has safely reached Bombay and to see it in my house, open it and reassure myself that everything that I put inside is still there! Even though the sight of my mother at the Bombay airport provided the much-needed solace and comfort I was aching ever since I realized my bag hasn’t reached Barcelona and even though being back home has taken the edge of the constantly nagging thought that ran parallel to everything else I thought about during my trip, I am still not entirely at peace…waiting to hear from Kitana that my bag is on its way home. Hope it’s soon! *Crossing my fingers*

Euro-Rail II

Lyon – the second commercial capital of France, the center of the ancient French silk industry, the capital of French gastronomy and the city of the famed frescoes that have earned themselves a place in the list of UNESCO world heritage sites. There seemed to be enough reasons to visit Lyon, yet people’s eyebrows went up when I cited the city in my list of destinations. To my relief, Lyon, with its eerily quiet and deserted streets after the peopled streets of Montpellier and Nice, did not disappoint. In fact it was quite a relief to the senses to wander in the quiet streets of Vieux Lyon, or the Colline de Fourvière or Croix Rousse, specially since it was amazingly pleasant (almost cool) after the heat and humidity of the previous two cities!

The high-points of our stay in Lyon:

Hôtel du Tourisme, where we stayed, a tiny but cozy place on the banks of Saône, a 15minute walk from the old city – affordable, clean and quite perfect! Our room overlooked their terrace which though a tiny, poky place at the back of the hotel had been transformed into a lovely, charming terrace providing the perfect ambiance to jot down the day’s notes with a cup of coffee…

The splendid view of the entire city from the Cathedrale de Notre Dame at the Colline de Fourvière which made worthwhile walking up 250m above sea-level instead of taking the cable-car, which any normal tourist would have done!

The satisfying meal we had at a restaurant in Vieux Lyon – I decided to throw caution to the winds and went ahead and ordered Rossbeef, served with potatoes stewed in the juice of the beef and green salad, while K had fish served with vegetable and saffron rice. It’s true that Lyon is the capital of French gastronomy – never have I enjoyed beef as I did that day and never has the meal in France been so completely satisfying…the dessert was the icing on the cake…

Walking around the corner to look up to one of Lyon’s acclaimed frescoes – even though I’d read much about them and seen a show on Travel and Living that focused on the frescoes of Lyon, nothing prepared me for the sight. An entire building painted to resemble a bookshop, a postman in the act of collecting letters from a postbox (which was real, not painted), citations from the French classics all over the building, a pigeon caught in the act of taking off, it’s shadow remarkably captured on the building’s façade. Despite the fact that the second fresco we saw was far more interesting, it’s the image of the former that has been burnt into my mind.

Failure to understand:

The charm behind the traboules – courtyards between buildings that apparently serve like secret passages from one street into the next, which we spent hours hunting, going up and down streets in the vain attempt to unearth them – only to finally find one traboule which was simply a dingy, stinky passage between buildings and not the least bit enigmatic or charming. Perhaps the charm lies in stumbling upon them and perhaps they were really useful during the war, we regretted having spent much time and energy looking for them!

The fuss about Croix Rousse, which at one time was the quartier of the canuts (silk-weavers) but today houses apartment complexes and offices and is just another neighbourhood – the cafés and restaurants didn’t bear a patch on those in Vieux Lyon and walking up this 250m seemed to have served only one purpose – that of leaving us dog-tired!

Unfulfilled Desire:

Attend a silk-weaving and painting workshop (lack of time) and buy a hand-woven and hand-painted silk scarf (was way beyond my reach) this time…next time!

Euro-Rail I

It's bloody strange, but I wasn't very impressed with Nice, apart from the pure azure of the sea...the Promenade des Anglais was not the least bit impressive, being just that - a promenade - and not really this strip that attracts the most elegant and chic of them all! As for the hotels down that strip, I'm afraid the less said about their facades, the better! It wasn't all bad though - I'm just exercising my spirit of criticism...the view from Colline du Chateau stole my breath and the Côte D'Azur is gorgeous and merits every compliment it has ever received! Breathtakingly beautiful - the view of the Baie des Anges from the Colline (that I posted earlier) or the Cascades from where you get the view...

Interestingly the apparently chic restaurant close to the Marché des Fleurs was quite a disappointment (mainly due to the snobbery of the waiter) but a simple, very basic restaurant close to our hostel was an absolute delight. At Restaurant du Soleil, run by an old couple I found a warmth that stole into my heart along with the soul-warming food! The monsieur running the place totally made me evening when he complimented my French : "Vous parlez bien en français, mademoiselle...continuez le bon travail!" Goes without saying that I skipped all the way back to the room ;-)

While Nice failed to inspire awe, Eze, a quaint (albeit too postcard-touristy) medieval village a few kilometres from Nice, charmed me completely with its colourful boutiques, narrow winding lanes and steps leading up to the church and the garden with a splendid view of Nice and the Côte d'Azur stretching up to Corsica...it was there that I truly felt I was at the famed French Riviera watching the crème de la crème of automobiles roll smoothly into restaurants way beyond my reach, all driven by chauffeurs that were polished to a shine, just like the cars! ;-) I'm not sure what I liked best about Eze - the drive to and from the village (uphill by bus and downhill in a Merc-cab!) or the breath-taking view from Jardin des Plantes Exotiques, 249 m above sea-level.

Now as I head to Lyon, I'm glad I did visit Nice and the French Riviera...as I leave behind the coast with its pebbly beaches and calcareous, rocky mountains, into a region marked with verdant hills and vineyards on both sides of the tracks I hope Lyon doesn't disappoint me...

(This and the series of posts that shall follow were scribbled hastily, untidily while travelling aboard the various trains that I took to reach my destinations...

The photographs are courtesy K, since I shall only develop mine when I get my bag and thus the many rolls of film inside! )

I'm Back!!!

Des ki mitti aur uski sugandh - nauseatingly cheesy or not, I sure as hell took one deep breath and felt absolutely rejuvenated when I stepped off the Boeing 777 that brought me from Paris to Bombay!

Out of the airport, I drove straight back to Pune coz I was just so tired... the last few days were rather exhausting what with dealing with various people's tantrums (learnt my lesson - never travel in a big group - people have silly issues!), dealing with French bureaucracy and trying not to let my fucked up mood have an effect on K's first visit to Paris...couldn't show him half the things I wanted to, since I was busy getting intimately acquainted with Charles de Gaulle - the airport, not the man (he's been dead quite some time and I'm really not into that kind of stuff!) Spent an entire day there going from one terminal to the other and then back to the first, then the second, then first, then third...all in the vain attempt of procuring my suitcase which had arrived in Paris but which I still don't have because of bloody bureaucratic procedures! I was in a frustrated mess of anger and tears by the end of the day, but pulled myself back in shape and tried to make the best of my last day in Paris - walked down Paris Plage, visited the Catacombs(which were not the least bit creepy! Though quite well arranged and presented very "prettily" I was actually feeling quite bored with the bones by the end!), shared a bottle of wine with friends wondering where life shall take us, sitting on the banks of the Seine...

A grand adventure it was, my Europe trip - much has been learned, much has been experienced - though I wish certain things hadn't happened (no marks for guessing what!) I still had a whale of a time and am so glad I had my closest friend right by my side through out - wouldn't trade a single moment we spent together and will never forget this trip - it has given me, perhaps the most cherished moments of our friendship!

Am so bloody glad to be home...now that I'm back I've pushed the family into settling down into the new house ...enough procrastination has happened on that front! Back to work next week - am looking forward to some routine in life after the last few weeks! ;-)

Forthcoming posts: Euro-rail, Photos

Adventure in Europe...

A fortnight in Europe with my closest friend, K - it's been a grand adventure! From lazing by the Cote d'Azur to admiring one of the most panoramic views from atop a mountain in a very chic, very quaint medieval village near Nice...from climbing the Colline de Fourviere in Lyon to enjoying a gastronamic Lyonnais speciality in the old quartier and admiring the famous frescoes...from delayed and cancelled flights to lost bags (I still don't have my bag, a week after the incident and am wearing recycled and borrowed clothes in the cities I wanted to appear my most chic self!)...from spending time with a new friend in Barcelona, visiting Gaudi's Sagrada Familia and drinking wine a la Spanish country folk from a carafe with a spout, circulated around the table without once putting the carafe down till the wine was over....from a very French dinner and brunch in cafes in Bordeaux, to cozy dinners at another friend's home, discussing books and art and French politics and all that interests us, to taking K to the Quinconces and sitting at the steps of the Monument de Gironde (my favourite monument in Bordeaux) just chatting idly and walking down the quai of the Gironde that flows through Bordeaux...from reaching Paris stressed and on the verge of a breakdown to walking by the Seine, with a pita sandwich in my hand in the company of two of my closest friends, drinking beer sitting by the Seine not far from the Notre Dame and forgetting my worries, to travelling to Cologne to meet a friend from Magdeburg and another friend who I met only very recently and staying in his very cozy and charming house with a garden out of a fairytale, from standing in front of the Cathedrale in Cologne, a very impressive monument to drinking in a brewerie and being told by the waiter that I can't have a fourth glass because I drink too fast and too much...

We go to Paris together for the last few days of my whirlwind trip in Europe - it's going to be a circus with so many of us at Kitana's place and so much fun...crossing my fingers that nothing goes wrong and that evrything else falls into place as well! I can't say I haven't enjoyed each and every minute, but I do wish it could have been a little smoother...but then I wouldn't have learnt as much as I did and I sure do learn alot with each of my trips to Europe...

The best and most memorable moment of the trip...sharing some light moments with my closest friend with a magnificient waterfall behind us and one of the most beautiful views in front of us....I don't think I'll ever forget the beauty of those moments and I'm so glad I could share all this with him...

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Oh it's been a tiring few days...I feel like I need to slow down and take a long deep breath and just relax!!! Let's see what can I say about the last few days? A turkish soirée, that I was too tired to appreciate fully, despite the fantastic live music belted out by my colleagues...finally managed to pick up gifts for my Bhabhi ( was getting worried coz I hadn't found anything till last week!)...an excursion to Agde-Beziers-Canal du Midi which included a boat ride and a visit to the Canal du Midi which is really impressive considering it was conceived in the 14th century and connects Bordeaux to the Mediterranean sea...

I visited the Musée Fabre in Montpellier on Saturday with a Sri Lankan colleague...and I will not be exagerating when I say that the afternoon had, for me, the best moments of my stay in Montpellier. It's a well known fact that I'm a big fan of Impressionsm, particularly Monet and when I found myself in front of Monet's "Japanese Bridge" and then the "Poppy Fields - Giverny" not only was I speechless (imagine that!) I actually had goosebumps all over due to sheer awe! I don't think even the sight of "Mona Lisa" will leave me as happy as I was on Saturday...so desperately wanted to call up Papa and share my joy with him; unfortunately heaven doesn't believe in telecommunication :-(

...and today I received the news that I've stood first in my DFA exams - since I was expecting around 75, to learn that I scored a neat 90 left me floored and thrilled as hell...yes yes I'm gloating and pretty much floating in 7th heaven right now ;-) Papa where are you? You should have been here to see my achieve all of this...

K arrives tomorrow...and the celebration starts to continue in Nice, Lyon, Barcelona, Bordeaux, Cologne and Paris!!!

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Well the week gets more and more interesting...yesterday the day started off with a visit to the Jardin des Plantes in Montpellier, a garden maintained by the medical college of the city, which is the oldest existing college of medicine in the world and houses an incredible botanic treasure...the afternoon was a tad boring specially since I was very sleepy, but then in the evening we visited the zoo in Montpellier which is modelled on an Amazonian forest...super interesting even though there were too many reptiles for my liking (both animal and human variety!) Ended the day with a soirée at the the Parc du Peyrou where I learnt some of the traditional dances of the region...was looking quite good, even if I say so myself and managed to dance till my toes started protesting and I do beleive I'd mastered some of the dances by the end, but I guess thebest judges would be the poor men who had to dance with me and deal with my two left feet! Muhahah! After the soirée the cultural activities team invited us for a drink so we ended the evening at the Place de Jean Jaurès over café, vin et bière!

Have just returned from an extremely fascinating visit to an archaeolgical site that dates back to several centuries B.C...ah if the days continue to fly past with the same lightning speed, I won't even realise how time shall pass before K arrives!!! :-)

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I wasn't feeling very motivated by my choice of modules this week, but then my choice of "Expression Orale" turned out to be a good one..and then on Tuesday in the module "Découverte du Languedoc-Roussillon" we visited the local market and had to question the vendors about their products etc...that turned out to be loads of fun and we even learnt some really interesting expressions that I'm dying to share with someone! Later we had a picnic in a park with wine, cheese and bread, organised by our prof...pretty cool eh?

...as if this wasn't enough, the excursion for the day was to Sommiers, where we visted the vineyards, the cave du vin and had a wine-tasting session! Excellent wine - I think I drank alot yesterday; my head was spinning by the time I got back to my room...goes without saying I crashed rather early! Hehehe!

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A week that disappeared before I knew it - my mind is bursting with impressions of this last week! From the first signs of homesickness and insomniatic nights spent tossing in that ridiculously narrow bed, my ears tweaking at the slightest sound outside my dorm room...to visiting new places, exploring hitertho unvisited quartiers of Montpellier, evenings out with colleagues and shopping...I'm scared my budget for the month is going to be terribly strained with the shopping I've done this past week! Ah well, we only live once! ;-)

Visited Aigues-Mortes on Thgursday after class - yet another mediaval city, but not half as impressive as Carcassonne...what was impressive was spotting the pink flamingoes in the "aigues-mortes" (dead water...so called because of the high salt content in the water) and the beach that we visited later via the sand dunes shaded by pine trees...a pristine, gorgeous beach not far from the "naturalist" beach, and no before you ask I didn't go à la nature!

Bid adieu to my Spanish colleagues on Friday - dinner en ville, followed by a promenade en centre-ville browsing through books on sale (yes, at that time of the night since the Estivales de Montpellier is going on), listening to music and watching people tango...glad I met them and hope to stay in touch!

Saturday, 14 july, la fete nationale, I was at Avignon...and I fell in love! No, not with a français, with the city sillies! It's gorgeous..I'd go as far as saying the beauty of the city is sublime...the magnifique Palais des Papes, the humbling Cathedrale, the impressive Pont d'Avignon and the Rochers...yes you can see I was duly impressed! I wish I could have spent more time there, but well, there's always the next time! :-)

Later in the evening I was at Port Marianne to watch the fireworks organised for the national day - spectacular event, followed by drinks at Cubanito, a bar en ville with my colleagues! Returned late to crash in bed till late Sunday morning...spent the entire day at the beach (Palavas) and a café à la Saint Tropez...and I do believe I've tanned badly, but who's complaining? :-)

Was most amused at the sight of 40-50 year-ols sunbathing topless...20 year-olds I expected, but women of that age? Ahem...yes, I know it could be called cultural shock; it was nevertheless vastly amusing to see a swelte 50 something blond sunbathing topless next to a fat, out-of-shape, balding 60 something ;-)

A brand new week, with fewer people at the institute and vaguely interesting modules..I'm now counting-down to next Tuesday when K will join me...ah, for some real company!

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A lazy Saturday spent in bed till I finally dragged myself out to hit the shops - it's summer sales and boy, is it tough to resist shopping till I'm broke! But I have a travelling extravaganza coming up and must be sensible..or so I tell myself ;-)

Am enjoying my solitude, much to my surprise and am very content with myself and my thoughts. Amen!

Sunday at Carcassonne, a delightful medieval city complete with ramparts, forts, castle and cathedrale. Gorged on Cassoulet, a stew made of meat, pork and beans; had loads of icecream, drank lots of wine and chatted with the other stagier(e)s..and yes explored the city throughly...returned to the Cité Universitaire to a light meal of fruits and juice (is it any surprise after that heavy lunch?), updated my journal and organised myself for the upcoming week...

....the perfect weekend, I'd say!

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A gorgeous Mediterranean city with the perfect weather - a highly irritating Indian colleague with a tendancy to pick up pregnancy tests instead of toothpastes and writing love letters instead of complaints has been shaken off, so I can meander at peace in the delightful avenues and narrow streets of the city and stroll through the centre commercial, while munching on a croissant or pain au chocolat or pain aux raisins...

I've been out in the centre-ville daily, either strolling in the streets and getting lost, or sitting at a café sipping coffee and soaking in the sun or having crepes with my colleagues. Spent a lazy afternoon at the beach soaking in the sun, sea and sand...and another evening at a concert of Occitanie music.

Yes, the life is good!

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A long flight later I landed in the magical city of Paris and though I didn't pay much attention to it; being with one of my closest buddies after a year, it was magnifique!! The train journey to Montpellier, though tiring, was inoubliable with the idyllic countryside, rolling green hills, vallyes dotted with sunflower fields and cows grazing on the slopes...as for the city of Montpellier, it is drenched in European culture and makes me pat my back for having chosen this center for my stage d'été :-)

It's just been two days and I've already logged in so many things that I can't wait to share, but it will have to wait till I get more tranquil access to a computer...

Until the second postcard, écrivez-moi!!