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.

A day in the Life (not of Pi)

Sunday in Mumbai often involves a movie. Talaash was on top of the list, but like the best laid plans of mice and men, we ended up in a different place for a different movie. The Life of Pi.

Now this is not the first time I have seen a movie in Mumbai, but there were some parts of the whole experience that are worth remembering and making those few hours, well, different.

First, standing in line to pick up the prepaid tickets results in a guy behind me constantly jostling me, ostensibly to push me into the person in front of me to make the line shorter. Unfortunately the law of physics fails in such cases, but a glare from me did absolutely nothing to him.

Second, the movie is due to start at 14.45 and at 14.42 the doors are not yet open. So we hang back from the crowd a bit saying that if we are at the back, its not gonna make much of a difference. Unfortunately, when we walk in at 14.48, the movie has already started.

Third, kids. Kids. More kids. Constantly asking their parents what's happening on the screen. Occasionally bawling. Since parents feel compelled to talk to them, there is a constant buzz of conversation while the movie plays out.

Fourth, the intermission. American movies, as we all know, are not designed for a half-way break. But hey, popcorn and stuff needs to be sold, so we have a break. The break is followed by the movie restarting from a point about 5 mins earlier than the place where it broke up.

Fifth, because of all the kids in front of us, we move back (during the intermission which we think has now served a purpose) a couple of rows to (what we think) is a quieter place. Lo and behold, there is a carpenter right above us. A nail is being worried at by a hammer.

Oh, did I mention the occasional cell phone going off?

First visit to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia

I found it easier to write this on evernote as I went along and post the link here. This is a long post as I was trying to capture as much as I could of a place that I had not visited before.

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s5/sh/5eb8666e-c167-450b-90ee-3ee862c68af9/c52cce741d89af8028db3daf79676357

The Ring

Ah yes, the ring. Been meaning to write about it for days, but haven’t got around to it (obviously!). This is not about the Naomi Watts (she’s pretty, isn’t she?) starring movie, but about the real thing. A simple solitaire diamond ring.

Alert readers who caught up with my story “Toll” will remember that I was in the US this summer. Even more alert readers will remember that Smita was due to join me later (as was Kiran).

Apart from the usual touristy stuff that we do, the wife loves to shop. This involves extensive (albeit pointed) research on the web on malls, stores, locations, prices and so on. Once the research is done, we go on to these hand picked places and do what needs to be done.

Cut to the King of Prussia mall in PA. This one is a biggy and attracts people from all over the world. There are also a bunch of hotels that ring the mall, and we picked the Best Western to spend the night in between the 2 days of shopping. Naturally after doing intensive, focussed research.

All goes well. We have a reasonable room, kind staff (its 11 PM by the time we check in) and it is literally a minute from the mall. We calculate carefully, add in the paranoia factor for the drive to JFK and set about our day. Just because it never rains when you take an umbrella, we get to the airport 3 hours before the flight. But that’s OK.

Soon after we are back home, a question pops up.

“Where is my ring?”

“Which ring?”

“The solitaire.”

“I don’t know. I suppose it will turn up by the time you are done unpacking.”

“No, I have looked everywhere. It’s not there.”

“Think carefully. It must be in one of your handbags or in your jewellery pouches or somewhere.”

“No, it’s not!” The voice has gone up a few octaves.

A slow panic starts to envelope the room. I begin to feel that it must be my fault somehow.

“Think hard. You might have just misplaced it.”

So starts the process of reconstructing what we did that day. Step by step. Spoken as well as visual memories are pulled out of the recesses of our minds. After a few minutes, the penny drops.

“I left it on the bedside table in the hotel.” The panic has gone up another notch. “I’ll never get it back.”

“Hotel staff don’t steal things. Let’s call the hotel and check.”

So starts the process of calling the hotel, asking questions, getting requests to call back when Housekeeping is in for the day, calling again, describing the object and so on.

“Yes, we found something like what you are describing in Room no. 231.” A wave of relief replaces the panic.

We call Jim who lives nearby, and he goes and picks up the ring. Sends us a photo. It’s THE one.

He gives it to Richard at the office, who brings it with him to Budapest and gives it to me. I bring it home.

The ring is united with the owner 6 weeks later. Three cheers for the (honesty of the) hotel staff and (the kindness of) our courier friends.

7-Nov-12

Chinese Dinner in Seoul

October 18, 2012

Place: Palace Hotel, Seoul; Sooh Goong Chinese Restaurant
Occasion: Customer dinner

Menu
Buldojang (Monk jumps over the Wall)
Braised Shark's Fin soup
Lobster
Abalone
Sea Cucumber
Peking Duck (Pancake)
Peking Duck (Meat)
Dim Sum (Prawn)
Noodles (in sweet onion sauce)
Fruit

(This restaurant was said to be the best Korean Chinese restaurant in Seoul)

Blink Moment

October 14, 2012

Flying to Shanghai today soon after a trip to Budapest and recovering from a cold. My mind is not quite with it. A drug induced 9 hour sleep at least had me rested last night, but I feel a bit bogged down and tired.

I go through the airport in a semi daze. It's all pretty standard really. Get off train, go up elevator, check in luggage, get boarding card, clear security.

See a pretty young lady pushing Lindor kugelis (the DF shop is now located at the exit of security and there is no way to avoid walking through it) so buy 2 boxes of assorted flavors for the Shanghai office, then get a cup of tea in a very crowded Senator lounge. There are no people in the airport, because they are all in the lounge.

I look at my watch, pick up my bags and proceed to the gate. Immigration, train ride and up the escalator again. See a long line of orientals so walk up to the business line and present my boarding card.

BEEP.

Oooh ... maybe I am gonna be upgraded! I start to come out of my automated robotic state.

The lady puts her arm on mine and says "You are flying to Shanghai, this flight is to Tokyo"

Oops. I apologize and leave the gate. Just because they were Orientals. Blink.

A night at the Oscars

This was not my first visit since the award, but I had somehow never gotten around to popping the question. We are all movie buffs, and the first time I saw the statuette was at the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, encased in a glass box. (Shelley Winters won the Oscar in 1960 for Best Supporting Actress for her role as Mrs van Pels in “The Diary of Anne Frank”.)

The Ray residence was always a special place to visit and I did make the trip every time I went to Calcutta. The occasion this time for the trip to Calcutta was the celebration of our 25th wedding anniversary which also coincided with the silver jubilee of my graduation from IIMC.

December 2007 to be precise.

After chit-chatting with Sandeep dada, Sourodeep and Monku Ma; I sprung the question.

"Where is the Oscar? I want to see it."

The words were immediately followed by a commotion. Several people started speaking at once and a babble of voices broke out. Soon it became obvious that nobody present there knew where it was. Oh my God, have I opened a Pandora's box here?

But they knew the person who knew. Buni knew but she was out running some errands. Before I could say Uncle Oscar, frantic phone calls were being made to her to determine where it was kept, when she would be home and a multitude of other things. My feeble protests ("don't worry", "not a problem") were completely ignored.

We had the customary cups of tea and gossip, and Buni soon walked in. As it transpired, she not only knew exactly where it was, she also was the only person who knew anything that happened in that house! It only took a few seconds for her to fish it out of it's secret hiding place.

It was afternoon in Calcutta, but surely it was night time somewhere.

AK 09-Sep-2012