And then there were none

As a teenager, I used to love reading Agatha Christie's mystery stories. The unraveling of each plot kept me enthralled and riveted all the way to the end.

But this is not a mystery story, and with Dame Agatha's permission for using one of her titles, let me get on with this little anecdote.

I love the occasional tipple, and enjoy my small collection of whiskey. Given my memory, I did not remember where I picked up a bottle of Glenmorangie's Cellar 13 single malt.

When I opened the box and saw the light golden coloured liquid, I was not terribly impressed. It has recently become trendy to enjoy the stronger tasting, dark coloured single malts, especially the ones from Islay. This single malt was almost transparent, it was so light in colour. But one sip and I was in heaven.



My taste buds are not developed enough to distinguish between the different elements of the whiskey, but the overall effect was so good that I hid the bottle from the prying eyes of guests and only ever partook of it when I was alone. This goes against my generous nature for sharing my cabinet, but I could not afford to finish the bottle before I found another. Notice that there is no age on the label, but a quick search told me that the whiskeys used in this single malt were between 10 & 12 years old. In scotch terms, this makes the whiskey 10 years old. As the name suggests, it comes from a single cellar.

So the hunt started. Over a period of the last 3-4 years, I looked for this whiskey in all the places in the world that I traveled to, but without luck. As I neared the half way mark in the bottle, I stopped drinking it. In my mind, it needed to be treasured.

About a year or so ago, I saw a Glenmorangie exhibit at Edinburgh airport and rushed over to ask the comely young lady about their Cellar 13. "The cellar is empty", she said, "we sold the last bottles two years ago". Disappointment spread through me, much like the warmth of that golden liquid. That half bottle hidden in my cabinet had just become even more precious. I hid it away even deeper.

A few months later, a close friend of ours, who is a great fan of malts, was moving back from Zurich to Texas, and we walked into Eddie's Whiskies in Horgen to buy him a bottle of single malt. This is an amazing store, by the way, and one that you should visit if you are in the area and a fan of single malts. Being web obsessed, we looked up the list of bottles in the shop before we drove up.

I guess the alert reader knows what's coming next. You are right, the catalogue listed Glenmorangie Cellar 13 amongst it's contents! This made me leave home immediately and drive faster.

"Yes, we still have that label", said Eddie, pointing to the shelf where there were three boxes stacked unobtrusively.

"I'll take them all. Do you have any more at the back?"

"Those are all that I have."

They are now in my cabinet, and the next guest we had at home was allowed to see the box and choose to have a wee dram if he so desired.

http://www.thewhiskyexchange.com/P-2453.aspx

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/And_Then_There_Were_None

http://www.eddies.ch

Kya kaha aapne?

I dislike early morning flights.

Those who know me are fully aware that I seem to spend half my time on the move, but they also know that I do not like the redeyes. Sure, there was a time when I always took those 7 AM flights, just like there was also a time when I worked on planes.

I guess I am old enough to make my rules. At least some of the time.

What I could not get away from was the early morning flight via Frankfurt to Houston. There was just no other option. This trip involved waking up at 04.30 AM and getting a taxi at 05.30 AM. Why do I need an hour to get ready? It's because I still feel that I have forgotten to take something and so I scurry around my bag worrying about what I have forgotten. I also tend to sleep badly if I know that I have to be up early to catch a plane.

I suppose there are some things that I am just not gonna get used to.

So here I am at Zurich airport at 06.10 and there is just one checkin counter open, even though three of them have warm bodies behind them. I wait patiently. Suddenly I am beckoned to a counter which still has the sign "closed" above it.

I know the drill, as one of my previous blog posts suggested ... but I am in for a surprise.

"Namaste", says Marcelo Alejandro. I come out of my sleepwalk and return the greeting. No big deal, plenty of people know this common Indian greeting.

"Kahan ja rahen hain aap?"

Now I am wide awake. "Houston via Frankfurt", I say, and add "You have been living in Delhi?"

"I have never been to India." I am dumbstruck. "I am part of a cross-culture club and we learn about all different cultures". I am impressed. Not only can he string together a few sentences, he actually understands what I am saying and responds correctly.

"That's a Milgauss", he suddenly says, and I nod affirmatively. This guy knows his stuff. He is also a member of a Rolex club.

"Does it sing to you?"; and then noticing my raised eyebrows goes on to add "Unless a watch sings to you, it's not the right one for you. When you put it on your wrist it should start to communicate with you."

I get it. "Yes, of all the watches I own, this one probably sings to me."

Switching subjects, I have an issue of wanting an aisle seat in the middle section of my long distance flight, whereas the pre-assigned seat is a window seat. "Khidki nahi chahiye?", he asks and I explain that I don't want to climb over anybody and nor do I want to climb over anyone else. He'll fix me up, but only when I get to the gate.

There is a strike in Frankfurt airport and some flights have been cancelled, so he is a bit rushed. "But I will be at the gate, so I will get you the seat you want". True to his word, he is at the gate and gets me my seat.

I am truly impressed. Marcelo has turned a dreary and routine checkin for a sleep walking passenger into a very pleasant experience. He has also shown how a routine job can be made interesting.

I walk to the gate and into the plane with a smile on my face.

A very Swiss lunch experience

It was all Anil's fault.

I think by now my colleagues in the Zurich office are fully aware of my lunch idiosyncrasies. Despite being a self-professed foodie, I am not a fussy eater when the situation is a working day lunch. The only thing I do not want is bad food (yeah, you have heard me say that life is too short to eat bad food) or, ahem, a certain kind of service.

"Anybody want to go eat?"

I get two positive responses. Jasmin & Anil. Cool. Jasmin has just joined us and it would be interesting - nah, that's such a boring word, let's say educative - to have her join for lunch.

When Anil reminds us that the Renaissance hotel next door has granted our company a 20% discount for lunch there, it seems like a good idea to go there. As we set out, I ask Jasmin if she has been there. She did grow up in the area, but the hotel is a recent addition to the landscape. No, she says. It's a strange hotel, I say. Why, she asks? It just is, I say, unable to expand on the subject. As people who know me well can appreciate, I am often at a loss for words.

The street that connects the office building to the hotel has been closed for months to allow for construction activity. (The Swiss and construction ... ah well, that's another story.) Replacing it is a narrow, precarious pedestrian path / platform that has become unfriendly because of the planks and screws used and the heavy snow that covers it. It reminds me of the mountain paths that one drives on in the snow. Everyone knows who has right of way, until someone does not.

But I digress. This is a story about lunch.

We get to the Equinox and ask for a table for 3. Anil flashes his business card and tells the waiter that he expects a 20% discount on his meal. We get a table in a dark corner, and do the Swiss thing of ordering a drink first.

Then things start to go to all hell fast.

I am happy with the Linguini with Tiger Prawns (knowing fully well that the tigers will turn out to be pussycats) and no starter. Perhaps I set the wrong example. The others follow suit. The waiter asks us twice if we want an appetizer, and we say no. Not just that, we later say no to dessert and coffee as well. By now, I can see tendrils of smoke escaping his ears. Here we are, at what might be considered a posh restaurant, and all we order is a drink and a main course. And a 20% discount.

I ask Anil to pay and we get the check. No discount included. He asks for one. The waiter disclaims all knowledge of it. We ask him to check with his supervisor. He comes back 5 minutes later and says that his supervisor is not available. We insist. More scowls. More delays.

But we do finally get the discount, and leave with the distinct impression that we have been blacklisted. We walk back the perilous path to the office fearing occasionally for our health. The pasta was ok but the rest of the experience was ... well, let's just say that we would have kissed the Thai girls at the Asian takeaway next door in preference.

It was all Anil's fault.

Snow shoe walking - A first

OK, I lie.

It was not the first time, but the second time. The first time was when Kiran & I went to Ilgau about a year ago. I had remembered that walk and wanted to do it again. My lovely wife presented me with snow shoes this Christmas and they debuted today since we finally got beaucoup snow!

Being an extreme novice, I spent quite some time at home figuring out how the shoes would work before driving to Einsiedeln. Once there, I fumbled a fair bit before I got them on. (I actually continued to fumble after I started walking, but got it right after a couple of adjustments!)

As I started walking from the car, some people stopped me (it's always me, right?) and asked which way they could go SSW. I told them that it was my first time and one of them was also a debutant, so I asked if I could tag along with them. I have found taht this is one of the real nice things about being in the mountains ... you can engage people and they respond. Everybody is so friendly!

So we all set out together and started creating paths in virgin snow. It was fantastic. The sun was out. It was warm. I did not use gloves or a scarf. I could have done with a sweater rather than the heavy jacket I was wearing. Ah well.

Along the way, I saw cross country skiers, old couples (some with their grand children), young couples (with or without kids), single people, people walking dogs, children playing in the snow, siblings building snowmen, throwing snowballs, people sledding ... oh all kinds of activities.

What a great way to spend an afternoon in winter, even if at the end I have burning thighs and feet and sore hands! 2 hours and 5.8 km (thank you Fitbit) later, I was satisfied and looking forward to the next time.

Couple of pictures worth sharing. The first pictures shows that I was walking in fresh snow, and in the second you see a nice view of Einsiedeln with the Kolster on the left and the ski jumping area on the right. In the foreground are little kids playing in the snow.