This post is only for my hard-core followers and those that are interested in hard facts. It contains absolutely no substance. None whatsoever.
(Listening to "Sajda" from "My name is Khan", an absolutely brilliant song from a movie of superbly memorable songs)
Travel Facts:
Cities visited: Budapest, Florence, Pisa, Essen, Leverkusen, Cologne, Ludwigshafen, New York, Darien, Stamford.
Miles earned: 9928 (Swiss & Helvetic airways)
Hotel nights: 14 (Intercontinental, Tornabuoni, Sheraton, Waldorf-Astoria)
Kms driven: 2600 approx (excluding usual daily driving)
Workout facts: My activities are mostly in the gym and my personal record keeper says that (during October) I did
30.4 mi biking
21.1 mi elliptical
9.1 mi walking
(excludes 3 sessions with weights/aerobic combo)
[Don't tell me that I did not warn you!]
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Now that I am officially "old" ...
... I wonder what I should do differently. I do like to write, so one resolution is to write more regularly and also record my comings and goings. It's not really to create a following, but more like a chronicle or journal. The girls came with a bunch of ideas and gave me the most wonderful photo album with memories.
Memories makes me think of a play I saw on Friday evening in Singapore. "The Blue Mug" was directed by Atul Kumar and partly based on a book that I owned (but only partly read) back in the mid 80's called "The man who mistook his wife for a hat" by Oliver Sacks. It was a very simple production, but the structure was based on the memories of its characters in a semi-autobiographical kind of way. There was a bunch of stuff that anybody who has grown up in India could identify with. In the end the memories come together and unite the characters, who forget what they are there for.
It is funny that a lot of what we remember goes back a number of years. I find that I do not remember most things which have occurred in the most recent past. Why is that? I think it's because we have the most intense reactions with our experiences when we are young. You know how a child plays with the same toy endlessly? How (s)he wants to listen to the same 4 page story day after day, night after night? They find something new in each repetition and that is perhaps what sinks deep into our memories. At my age, I suppose I am skeptical, cynical and uncaring about many of the things that touch me. Or my mind is too cluttered to experience each moment with intensity. Or I am not expressive emotionally (for a variety of reasons). Or, quite simply, it's ADD.
Technology has created a lot of simple ways to record our experiences. Facebook is perhaps the best example. It has made us willingly want to share moments of our life that we would not have dreamed of sharing, at least not with all 678 of our friends. Perhaps with 6 or 7 or 8 in an intimate moment. But this is 2010, and hey, a lot of our daily conversations also revolve around "Did you see what XYZ wrote on FB?" I must admit that it is addictive in a voyeur-ish kind of way. As far as gossip rags go, I am not a big fan (Twitter excepted), but FB is all about gossip from people we actually know, rather than people we want to know!
I am meandering ... From memories of the past to voyeurism. But that's the fun ... nobody to control or stop what I am writing! On to the next!
Memories makes me think of a play I saw on Friday evening in Singapore. "The Blue Mug" was directed by Atul Kumar and partly based on a book that I owned (but only partly read) back in the mid 80's called "The man who mistook his wife for a hat" by Oliver Sacks. It was a very simple production, but the structure was based on the memories of its characters in a semi-autobiographical kind of way. There was a bunch of stuff that anybody who has grown up in India could identify with. In the end the memories come together and unite the characters, who forget what they are there for.
It is funny that a lot of what we remember goes back a number of years. I find that I do not remember most things which have occurred in the most recent past. Why is that? I think it's because we have the most intense reactions with our experiences when we are young. You know how a child plays with the same toy endlessly? How (s)he wants to listen to the same 4 page story day after day, night after night? They find something new in each repetition and that is perhaps what sinks deep into our memories. At my age, I suppose I am skeptical, cynical and uncaring about many of the things that touch me. Or my mind is too cluttered to experience each moment with intensity. Or I am not expressive emotionally (for a variety of reasons). Or, quite simply, it's ADD.
Technology has created a lot of simple ways to record our experiences. Facebook is perhaps the best example. It has made us willingly want to share moments of our life that we would not have dreamed of sharing, at least not with all 678 of our friends. Perhaps with 6 or 7 or 8 in an intimate moment. But this is 2010, and hey, a lot of our daily conversations also revolve around "Did you see what XYZ wrote on FB?" I must admit that it is addictive in a voyeur-ish kind of way. As far as gossip rags go, I am not a big fan (Twitter excepted), but FB is all about gossip from people we actually know, rather than people we want to know!
I am meandering ... From memories of the past to voyeurism. But that's the fun ... nobody to control or stop what I am writing! On to the next!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Invitation to a Bat Mitzvah - and a cuppa tea
It all happened by chance. I had received the invitation from the Stanton family (my first ever to a Bat Mitzvah) and had thought no more of it. But one thing led to another, and finding myself in Manhattan for work, I called Oliver and accepted the invitation. The occasion called for "festive dress" and was clarified to be a suit.
Now for the gift that Smita reminded me I should not forget to take with me. Not knowing anything about Mitzvah traditions (I have been to a Jewish wedding, but that's another story). I did some research and came up with the appropriate gift : cash. How Indian! And there are traditions to determine the amount!
On a beautiful, sunny Saturday, I made my way to the Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue on the Upper West Side. This is the first time I am at a Synagogue (and on Shabath, no less!) and am amazed by the building, both outside and inside. It looks very ornate and I sit through the service with a cap on my head and a cloth around my shoulders (you can Google to see what they are called). Alex appears about an hour after I get there and goes through the ceremony. Oliver says that she wrote her Thank You speech herself. All very American. The ceremony consisted of her reading through some prayers and then her speech followed by Oliver.
We repaired to a Kidush lunch downstairs. Some jostling and grabbing of seats took place. I lost the one I had put my book on. Being the polite sort, I ate standing up rather than make a fuss. I don't need to Google this because I was there : the food was mainly salads and cold fish dishes plus fruits and desserts. The Rabbi said something like grace first, following which we swallowed thimble sized glasses of red wine; before fighting for a place in the buffet.
The dinner was simply spectacular. Hosted at the St. Regis on 55th and 5th, it was a teenage birthday party to beat anything I have ever seen. Describing it all would probably make y'all glassy eyed. Lots of thank yous and I love yous in the speeches. All American.
Starting at 7, we got our main course at 10. About 11, I was so tired that I was ready to fall asleep at the table (had walked about 3 miles in the afternoon) when I discovered "Energy Jetlag AM" tea at the back.
Magical. I am a new person in two sips. A new quest begins.
Now for the gift that Smita reminded me I should not forget to take with me. Not knowing anything about Mitzvah traditions (I have been to a Jewish wedding, but that's another story). I did some research and came up with the appropriate gift : cash. How Indian! And there are traditions to determine the amount!
On a beautiful, sunny Saturday, I made my way to the Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue on the Upper West Side. This is the first time I am at a Synagogue (and on Shabath, no less!) and am amazed by the building, both outside and inside. It looks very ornate and I sit through the service with a cap on my head and a cloth around my shoulders (you can Google to see what they are called). Alex appears about an hour after I get there and goes through the ceremony. Oliver says that she wrote her Thank You speech herself. All very American. The ceremony consisted of her reading through some prayers and then her speech followed by Oliver.
We repaired to a Kidush lunch downstairs. Some jostling and grabbing of seats took place. I lost the one I had put my book on. Being the polite sort, I ate standing up rather than make a fuss. I don't need to Google this because I was there : the food was mainly salads and cold fish dishes plus fruits and desserts. The Rabbi said something like grace first, following which we swallowed thimble sized glasses of red wine; before fighting for a place in the buffet.
The dinner was simply spectacular. Hosted at the St. Regis on 55th and 5th, it was a teenage birthday party to beat anything I have ever seen. Describing it all would probably make y'all glassy eyed. Lots of thank yous and I love yous in the speeches. All American.
Starting at 7, we got our main course at 10. About 11, I was so tired that I was ready to fall asleep at the table (had walked about 3 miles in the afternoon) when I discovered "Energy Jetlag AM" tea at the back.
Magical. I am a new person in two sips. A new quest begins.
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