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...