The Silk Road - 7

Sometimes a whole day is not enough. We had time for a few hours of sightseeing before we headed for shopping. The Summer Palace was far away and hence had to be ditched. We decided on the nearer one – the Temple of Heaven.

The guy at the hotel front desk had given the directions to the farthest metro station in the vicinity. By the time we got to the metro station, it seemed far away. Beijing Metro is the oldest in the country, and for a single trip to anywhere, it costs just 2 Yuan. But the trains are so damn crowded!

The temple was beautiful, but strangely, looks like the ones you find in Kerala – the round body tapering roof types. Of course, here, you cannot go inside it. Whatever is there to be seen has to be viewed from the small door. Surrounding the Temple of Heaven is a huge park with other temples and pavilions – and a gazillion people selling all sorts of trinkets – and Subash wanted to buy them all.

Opposite to the temple complex stands the Hongqiao Pearl Market – where you get duplicates of everything under the sun. The rest of the guys went gaga over the watches. Yash successfully brought almost a dozen watches, driving the salesgirls to exasperation with his bargaining. But he drew a blank with the bags.

The Silk Road - 6

The discovery of the trip has undoubtedly been the "Pee Pee Boy". It’s a small clay statuette used to determine the right temperature of water for making tea. When hot water is poured on its head, it pees. Yash was fascinated by them. We got a free pee-pee boy each on buying tea. But Yash was not satisfied. He wanted to make sure that the pee-pee boy he had got was working. He asked for a demonstration.

"Is it made of clay?" He asked the girl.

"She doesn’t know what clay is," interjected Subash, who hadn’t yet found the strainer he badly wanted.

"Of course I know what clay is!" she retorted

It had been a day for wrong questions…and Yash had been asking them all the time, with his fascination for gardens and pee-pee boys. Our tour guide Jenny finally remarked: "You always ask the wrong questions!"

Two Columbian bicycle businessmen – Nelson and Jose – were part of our tour party. The first stop was Tiananmen Square – according to Jenny, the largest square in the world. She explained about the Ming and the Qing Dynasties, and how Chairman Mao had proclaimed the republic at the square – everything, except the obvious. Opposite the square stood the majestic gate of the Forbidden City.

"You are now walking along the same path as the emperor used to years ago", proclaimed Jenny. Only, now the path was lined with shops that sold souvenirs and woolen clothing. They had to be thanked though, since we were freezing. I bought a pair of gloves and a big Red Army cap – the most prized possession from the Beijing trip.

The Forbidden City is called so because you cannot enter or leave it without the permission of the emperor. As for the empress, she only entered – she could never exit the complex. As you enter, you touch the doors for good lunch. The place has 5 bridges, 980 buildings and pavilions and covers an area of 7,800,00 sq ft.

Next was a traditional Chinese Medical Institute. "They check your pulse, look at your face and tell you what is wrong with you," exclaimed Jenny. Not very encouraging! IT all started with the foot massage and an anatomy lesson on how the liver and kidney looks. The doctor came in, checked my pulse, said a few things about cholesterol and then asked: "do you catch a cold?" They had one look at Jose and explained to him about a dozen things that were wrong at him. At the end of the hour he had a load of medicines in his hand.

The doctors seemed to be much impressed with Yash. The masseur girl wanted to know his age. But he wouldn’t oblige.

It was a day for wrong questions.

We set out for the Great Wall at Badaling, but not before visiting a Jade factory. The lady at the counter talked a lot about India being their preferential neighbor. But there didn’t seem to be any preferential treatment in giving discounts. A Chinese lunch was waiting for us, and strangely, it was acceptable to everyone – no complaints of smell.

It was late afternoon by the time we reached the biggest attraction – The Great Wall. A cable car takes you to the top where you join the wall. Another option is to climb up the wall from down below – an endeavour that would take the whole day. Not surprisingly, the wall was steep. I huffed and puffed my way up to the watch tower – and got my name engraved on a bronze plaque claiming "I have climbed the wall."

As we drove back through the city, Yash pointed to an elaborately lit structure and asked: "Is that a temple?" "No! It is a hotel!" Jenny retorted back.

It was a day for wrong questions.

The Silk Road - 5

The distance between Shanghai and Beijing is about 1300 Km. The high-speed bullet train covers that in 5.5 hours. Wikipedia says it passes on the world’s longest bridge – a whopping 164 km.


That’s the train we’d booked ourselves into for our Beijing trip on Friday. It took one hour to reach Hongqiao Station. The station is huge – almost like an airport terminal. The metro arrives on the lower level which also houses the ticket counters with their snaking (and not single line) queues. The middle level exits to the outside and the upper level constitutes the departure concourse. After baggage screening, we headed to the nearest McDonalds, which would probably be our last meal of the day. For about 15 minutes, Yash regaled us with lessons in Chinese. The waiting hall was huge. But in 15 minutes, we were heading down to the train.

On first sight, you go…”Wow!!” The front portion that tapers out has a sightseeing gallery, and that is the most expensive part of the train. We were in the second class, which resembles the new-age rajdhanis and shatabdis that run in India – the only difference being that this train runs at an average speed of 300 km/hr. Attendants keep walking to and fro, cleaning up waste thrown by passengers. TVs are constantly running, but they can hardly be heard. An odometer in each coach informs the passengers of the speed. Being night time, nothing can be seen outside, but I don’t think we ever passed over a 164 km bridge.

At 11:30 pm we pulled into Beijing South Station…and everything was shut. A never-ending line waited for the taxi. Drivers were bargaining. The starting price was 400 RMB - too much by any standards. And Yash kept reminding us: “The hotel is just 4km from the station”. His efforts to bring the price down to 50RMB came to nothing. We had to finally settle for 150 RMB. The 5 of us were bundled into one car, and we drove for many miles. When we checked into our spacious three bedroom service apartment, it was already Saturday.

I can see the station down below from the window; it is just about 4 km from the hotel. But it happens to be some other station.

The Silk Road - 4

It’s a long way to office – a 45 minutes ride thanks to the Metro. It’s a small place like the Graphisoft Park in Budapest. SAP stands with other companies like HTC, Olympus and ICBC Bank. There is a small man-made lake in the midst.


And then, there are the mosquitoes…Too many of them in office.

Nobody wants the lunch served over here. Subash didn’t like the smell. The others didn’t like the taste. So, we bring lunch. But still, Subash wants to know why they need to pay to have lunch at the office.

To the east of People’s Square runs East (not surprisingly) Nanjing Road – a boulevard of lights. It’s an out and out walking street with a few tram-like contraptions thrown in for the benefit of people like Pragati who cannot walk the whole way. There are huge shopping malls – from the Shanghai No. 1 Department Store at one end to the huge iphone store at the other. At night, it is truly a splash of colour. On this road, there are always people singing and dancing, and then there are those trying to sell you iphones, bags, clothing and sex massages

About 500 m ahead, is the famous Bund on the Huangpo River. Thursday was a rainy night and the umbrellas were out. We had two ourselves. Across the river, the lights of Pudong shone brightly. A mist was slowly descending. The highest pearl of the Oriental Pearl Tower kept playing hide and seek. The massive Shanghai World Financial Centre and the Jinmao Tower were lost in the mist. On the Shanghai side, the beautiful old buildings blazed in various colors. We stood braving the rain until the lights were switched off.

The Silk Road - 3

Shanghai Old Town is a maze of galis and wooden structures – a place you should go, if you want a traditional flavor. And, it is crowded! The queue at the famous Nanxiang restaurant was miles long - thus evaporated my desire to eat the famous steamed buns. Next to the restaurant was a small lake with the tea house in the middle. A bridge led to it. In front of it were the dancing men – a posse of Indians (not red), making postures like Bruce Lee did in “Enter the Dragon”. Soon I understood the reason - their pal stood in front with a camera. Across the bridge was Yuyuan Garden - a serene oasis of wooden pavilions in the midst of this hustle and bustle. It was not crowded – probably people were dissuaded by the 40 RMB entry fee.


Lunch was at KFC. It tasted strange. Unlike anything I’d eaten so far.

The Silk Road - 2

The first experience at the hotel was not nice. They had booked me only for 6 nights. It took them half an hour to rebook. The room that they gave me had no telephone or internet as promised. It took me a couple of trips from the 8th floor to the reception to get it fixed.


The place has 18 floors, but only 15 stories – there are no floor nos. 4, 13 and 14.

According to the desk clerk, the nearest supermarket is 25 minutes by taxi. I need to check the definition of the term in a Chinese dictionary, for there were a few of them nearby. But none of them sold butter, and the least amount of rice they offered was 10 kg!

The newly set up Marriott City Centre towers over our hotel. Behind it stands the jazzy and glamorous Shanghai New World Emporium that houses a huge shopping mall, movie halls, Madame Tussauds and what else. Like a sharpened pencil, the miles tall JW Marriott looms over everything else. Across the road sprawls People’s Square, also the site of the nearest Metro Station. It is one of the most important stations – considering that it has about 19 exits. The metro is awesome. There’s a train every 1-2 minutes, and it covers almost all parts of the city (it’s the longest metro in the world). However, China’s not the most populous country for nothing. And of course, inside the train it is just like Chennai – neither do they go in from the door, nor give way for people alighting.

No sooner I stepped out of the station at Yuyuan Garden, than I spotted a young man eating something that looked like a small barbecued snake on a stick. Everywhere there were people selling raisins, cashew and dry fruits, but no exotic animals. Surely, I must be mistaken. All the stories about China are exaggerated.

The Pony Express - Part 19

“What’s the Dreamcatcher for?” asked the pretty girl with the cowboy hat, as we stood waiting for Lavinia at the Ripley’s museum. For a moment I was stunned. Was she really talking to me? I was on cloud 9, and started explaining about nightmares and dreams. She seemed much impressed. Then it dawned on me that perhaps she believed I was a Red Indian in disguise. But then, this was Indian country, in one way or the other. The Red Indians may have long gone, but the Indians sure seem to be everywhere.

Texas is like India in many ways. There is the long plain, stretching to where the sky meets earth – with the odd tree breaking the monotony. It is hot like hell – in fact it was the first time I saw a fan in a house (Lavinia was surprised to hear that) - and of course, the Indians: not Red, but the saffron-white-and-green variety. Jaysheel had an interesting observation: “This is the town Irving. It’s called Mini-Hyderabad. 85% of the population is Telugu. The rest 15% are Americans and other Indians.”

Lavinia seemed to take a liking to Ripley’s. Like a little girl, she was wide-eyed with excitement. It seemed a trifle difficult to distinguish who was younger – she or her three-year old daughter. Not a lot seemed to have changed with her in the last eight years. Every place in the USA, however big or small needs a museum. Dallas is famous two things – being the place where John F Kennedy was shot dead, and for sharing its name with one of the most popular soap operas of the late 20th century. I was never a person to adore soap operas - with the odd exception of Kyunki Saans Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi till a few years back – but Kennedy? That would give me some bragging rights over Vinay Shenoy. The highlight of the day was Pioneer Plaza, which housed a bronze sculpture of four cowboys herding buffaloes. There were around 100-odd buffaloes. Texas and India…now you know.

“I like the T-Shirt!” said the lady at the counter pointing to that age-old tiger-eyes thing I always wear. I was on the clouds. “Well, at least someone liked it! My team mates have forbidden me from wearing it to office” I exclaimed to Lavinia. She’d taken me to a quaint little town called Grapevine, and was looking disappointed that nothing much was happening there. She’d promised that there would be a bustling market, and perhaps to hide the same, was taking me into all the antique stores. To my liking, I found a tin advertisement board which said: “Coffee: Do stupid things faster”. Even the lady at the counter pretended to be impressed at my choice. “I’ll hang it on my cubicle” I promised Lavinia. She looked embarrassed.

One look at Grapevine Main Street and you’ll realize why it is “quaint”. To my utter surprise, here was a town that seemed to have been lifted straight out of a Lucky Luke comic book or one of those John Wayne-Clint Eastwood Westerns. There was the big town hall at the end of the street. Lining the street were two-storied buildings which if you stepped a couple of hundred years back would have formed the banks and saloons where all those cool dudes hanged around. The difference perhaps was that, , huge motorcycles were to be spotted in place of the horses that would be drinking from wooden water buckets as their riders drank more exotic liquids from better-shaped containers. With the increasing gas prices, giving them a drink would not exactly be on the minds of their riders (who perhaps, would still be drinking more exotic liquids from better-shaped containers).

There was also the old railroad, now running as a showpiece attraction. But incredibly, I neither rode it, nor took a picture of it.

We had lunch at a (genuine) Thai restaurant. Lavinia seemed to be an expert at ordering Thai food, sparing me the trouble of not knowing what to eat. And then, to my surprise, she said: “Take a little bit of everything. That way, you will get to taste all the good things in life”.

It was the last weekend of my trip here in the USA. Jaysheel and Lavinia seemed to be a bit disappointed that perhaps I didn’t get to see anything much in Dallas (“Dallas is the most interestingly boring place.” he joked). But if someone asks me “What did you see in Dallas?” I know I have an answer.

“All the good things in life…” Of all the things I saw, there was nothing more delightful than spending time with their family.

The Pony Express grounds to a halt here.

The Pony Express - Part 18

“The quintessential American tourist”, was how Kavitha described me when we met. Indeed, I stood there sheepishly with my woolen jacket wrapped around me on the hottest day of the year (It was like being back in Bangalore), and my huge camera dangling around the neck. I had already clicked 30-odd photos at “The Crossroads of the World” – Times Square. She had donned her newest dress – as was evident from the price tag that still dangled from it.

Kavitha played the perfect host in New York (well, there it goes, da. As promised, I praise you…and well-deserved too). Two days before I was scheduled to make an appearance, she’d asked me to send her my list of “what-to-dos”, and I had quickly compiled up the “what’s what” list of New York City attractions. And there she was, with a small notebook in her hand, pointing out to me how well she’d planned my time in New York, complete with metro routes and all. Further, she wisely kept me away from the DVD shops.

After having seen the sleepy streets of Philadelphia where life moves along at a leisurely pace, New York was like an express train. It seemed to barely stand and notice, as people from all walks of life whiz past you. Exiting out of Penn station to find the Empire State Building towering up in front of me, Bangladeshi waiters waxing eloquent about the health system in India, “quotable quotes” from Kavitha on certain movies releases in India (I am not sure she would be amused if I mentioned the quote)...there are lots that I could write about, but choose not to (this post is not a tourist guide). Two days whizzed past, roaming around Manhattan – Broadway, Fifth Avenue, Central Park, the Museums, Brooklyn Bridge and even a ride in the New York Metro. Kavitha was perhaps disappointed that we could neither catch up on a Broadway show, nor get near Lady Liberty – she stood across the Hudson, her torch competing with the tall cranes in the distance. We would perhaps meet some other time.

“Sing a keertanam” said Kavitha, as we were having a short dinner at the Esplanade. I was taken aback for a while, but then obliged. Soon, she started singing...of all things, my favorite composition – “Alaipayuthe”. And then the raindrops fell. There was no connection between the rain and our singing, but strangely after two days of scorching heat, it seemed like curtain-down on my trip to New York. I wanted to get wet, but Kavitha was not so enthusiastic...as she said earlier during the day, i am in my second childhood now.

The Pony Express - Part 17

Today I finished the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It was beautiful. Philadelphia turns beautiful as the flowers bloom finally. But the city is indifferent. For all I know, I could have been anywhere else in the world - a stranger in a strange land.

Photo of the Day: Afternoon rainbow at Logan's Square Fountain.

The Pony Express - Part 16: Memories from Montreal...

All good things come to an end.

On Friday evening, the departure gates of the Pierre Trudeau Airport were eerily empty. With just a few minutes to go for the flight, I wondered whether I was the sole passenger on the flight. At 5:00 PM I had been early, but not too bothered about being so. The lady at the counter had offered to put me on the 5:40 PM flight, but I had wisely declined – a decision vindicated as I passed through the immigration counter.

My worst fears seemed to be cropping up in my mind. The officer at the immigration counter was quite crude.

Him: “Why were you in Canada?”
Me: “I was here for a business meeting with a client.”
Him: “Where in the USA are you headed for?”
Me: “Philadelphia.”
Him: “Why?”
Me: “I work for SAP.”
Him: “Why are you in the USA?”
(What??) Me: “I work for SAP, and am in the USA for business meetings.”
Him: “I AM ASKING YOU, WHAT IS YOUR IMMIGRATION STATUS IN THE USA???”
(Huh!!) Me: “er…B1.”
Him: “Then where is your I94 form?”
(Oh No!!! There it goes) Me: “er…they took it from me when I boarded the flight in Philadelphia.”
He glared at me and thrust an I94 form at me.
Him: “Fill it up!”
I duly did. He pointed to the fingerprinting machine and said: “Your left finger.”
I extended my finger.
Him: “YOUR LEFT FINGER!”
In that moment of panic, I forgot which my left hand was.

After the disaster on Monday, recovery had been amazing. Within two days I could walk. On Wednesday, I headed out. The leg was still paining. It was not responding to flexion (it’s still not), but that didn’t deter me.

For those who think traffic in Bangalore is awful, welcome to Montreal.

Downtown Montreal is busy. Cars zip along at high speeds, oblivious of life on the roads. The youngsters are ever partying, especially after the hockey games at the Bell Centre. They are everywhere on the roads. Dorchester Square Park in the middle seems to have stopped in time. A few people can be spotted on the benches, reading books. The odd kid plays with the ball. As I turn my attention back to the road, I am suddenly transformed into another world. The cars are still zipping along…and amidst them, a beautiful girl in a white shirt and a black skirt printed with flowers is astride on a bicycle. A bunch of flowers jut out of the basket in front of the bicycle. It seems as if she’s been plucked out of a 1930s country scene. Time has indeed stopped.

Unfortunately, she’s too fast for my camera.

This week, Montreal is painted in three colors – red white and black. You can’t miss the fact that the Formula One craze has hit the town. When the cars roll out on the streets of Notre Dame the next weekend, you wouldn’t make a mistake as to who finds support here – the city is painted in red. I trudge along to the old town. It fills up with the tourists, who seem to be confused as to which pub to head for. I head for the huge souvenir shop.

I bought a bunch of things. And the young shopkeeper, he saw the bunch and asked me to pick something as a gift for me. I picked up a key chain. He gave me two more.

On Thursday, I headed up the hill to Mount Royal. It was a little adventurous of my part, since my leg was not fully healed, and half way through, my legs started to give away. They felt as if they were made of iron. But the beautifully quiet surroundings of the McGill University urged me along. By the time I reached the park, the sun was already on its way down. Looking down the steep road, I could see the river far away, through a small break among the crowd of skyscrapers. Their glasses gleamed golden in the evening sun. I went into the wooded park, and sat there for half an hour. A few evening joggers and old people went past; smiling courteously (people are so kind out here in Canada). But for them, it was just me and the birds chirping on the trees.

I am reminded of Blanche DuBois’s famous quote from Tennessee Williams’s 'A Streetcar Named Desire' : “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

It was past 10:30 when I reached the hotel. I had walked down the beautiful Rue St. Denis, filled with restaurants featuring all kinds of cuisine. There are numerous Indian restaurants on this street. I had marveled at the huge campus of the Royal Victoria Hospital, an old Victorian-era complex that stands on the slopes of the hill. It reminded me of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the Harry Potter movies. But I did not linger along. Hospitals always give me the creeps. They bring to me a sense of pain, a sense of suffering. As darkness descends, Downtown Montreal becomes increasingly ominous. A few cars still whiz along at high speeds, but the streets are empty and devoid of life. I walk along in the shadows, aware that there is still some way to go before the cozy confines of my room. I can see that there are people lurking in the shadows. A few youngsters venture out displaying their skills on roller skates. The massive Hotel de Ville glows triumphantly at the night sky. But the churches have closed their doors - eerie blue lights permeate their long windows. The homeless people, snuggled under blankets, try to catch some sleep on the steps of the churches or on the park benches of Victoria Square. At night I realize that beneath the gloss there is lot of poverty around.

It ended as it started – under clouded skies. The past five days have been exhilarating. It would be an understatement to say that it was a memorable trip. Montreal is truly beautiful. I do not know whether I will ever return here. But I carry with me a lot of memories, and one among them is the statement made by my TQM:

“My ideal country to live in would have…

The lifestyle of Germany and Switzerland
The weather of Venezuela (minus the rain)
The comfort of the USA
The beaches of the Caribbean
The food of Brazil
The beer of Ireland…

My friends keep telling me, you’re a crazy girl, you’ll never find such a place…but what’s wrong in dreaming? You don’t have to pay to dream…”

I hope the day never comes when we have to pay for our dreams…

The Pony Express - Part 15

The Pony Express crossed the border on May 26th. But before that there was the small matter of catching up with Indiana Jones. Snag was waiting for me to log in on Sunday night. In my excitement, I'd forgotten to release some requests.

Me: Hi, I'm just back from Indy 4
Snag: How was the trip?
Me: I'm talking about Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Snag: Is that a movie?
Me: Lady, which world are you from?
Me: You haven't heard of Indiana Jones??
Me: You haven't heard of INDIANA JONES??

Obviously, she gave me an earful.

"Bangalore? I've seen a lot of people from Bangalore out here" the security guard at Philadelphia Airport beamed, looking at my passport. Terminal F, exclusively for US Airways Express seemed empty. Soon I got to know the reason. The flights were tiny 40-seater aircraft. So small that the overhead compartment could just fit my laptop bag. "Can I have your case, sir? It needs to go into the cargo hold. You can collect it at the gate when you embark." said the crewman as I was about to enter the airplane. Obviously there was a lack of space. As I buckled up in my seat, I realised that all my documents were inside the case. All kinds of worst-case-scenarios started flashing through my mind. What if the suitcase is directly sent to the baggage claim area? What if I am not allowed entry into Canada? What if I am not allowed entry back into the USA?

The last question still haunts my mind. As for the others, I am now relaxing in my suite on the 30th floor of the Marriott Chateau Champlain in Montreal.

Montreal...the best thing about Montreal Airport is that they give you a city guide and a city map free of cost.

The Pierre Trudeau Airport is huge, but eerily empty. There was the absence of the ever-present queue, both at immigration and at the baggage counters. I was still tense. At the immigration counter I tried my best to present an innocent face like the baby in a topless bar. The girl at the counter put me to ease. She seemed confused about what to put as my last name. "You don't have a 'Singh' in your name?" she asked. I may have looked even more perplexed. Amidst all this confusion, she put the occupation as "Agricultural Engineer" in my work permit.

One could be forgiven to think that they are in France rather than Canada. Everything around is in French - the street sign, shop names, metro and bus stations, and what else. With lots of time to kill, I went out for a walk in the afternoon. Massive skyscrapers rise up on all sides of the hotel around downtown Montreal. A small park nestles beneath these steel monsters. Along with these monstrosities, the masonic buildings give the place a quaint European feel. Right in front of the hotel stands the massive Cathedral of Mary, Queen of the World, modelled after the St. Peter's Basilica. I spent an hour photographing the church, which meant that I had to miss out visiting the Notre Dame Cathedral.

Situated on the banks of the massive St Lawrence, the city has a massive promenade. But the place was thoroughly depressing. There was not a soul present at the promenade. Incredibly, there were no tourists - not even the one thousand odd Chinamen. I stood there under the grey clouds, watching the huge container ship crawling along the river. However, across the street was another story. It was as if I had stepped into another time. Stone roads dot the old quarter of the city. Life begins here. A hundred shops displayed their wares. Roadside restaurants and taverns were playing music. The place was full of smiling tourists - and among them I stood.

And then, disaster struck. I sprained my leg.

The Pony Express - Part 14

The southern end of Hope Street is a dead end. At this end stands a small sand-coloured building that resembles an Egyptian temple or palace. The top of the building is crowned by a mosaic pyramid, and the words "Books Invite All They Constrain None" is carved out on its doorway. The huge skyscrapers of Citibank and US Bank tower over it from behind, as if guarding this little one from harm. This is the Los Angeles Public Library. Next to it, stood the massive structure that housed the Canadian Consulate.

Los Angeles is a strange place. New York has the glitz, Chicago is bustling with business, San Francisco retains its old charm, and LA, it gives me a mysterious feeling. This city stands as if it were a large oasis in a desert - a fact augmented by the presence of huge palm trees along the roadsides. Huge freeways, carrying more than 10 lanes of traffic crisscross the city, flying above the houses. This was my second visit to the city. My plan was to finish off the work at the Consulate and head towards Downtown Disney at Anaheim, in the hope of laying my hands on some elusive DVDs (and perhaps some rhinoceros soft toys). But Anaheim was far off, and due to the time taken at the consulate, i had to ditch the plans.

It took me one hour to walk from the hotel to the consulate. The Figueroa corridor, where the hotel stood was home to a few landmarks in the city. Opposite to the hotel, sprawled the majestic campus of the University of Southern California. A few blocks away, resplendent in Muslim Architecture stood the Shrine Auditorium, home to the Academy Awards Ceremony until a few years back. And further away was the beautiful Spanish building of the Automobile Association of America. Joel, the receptionist, was eager to explain to me about them. He was overjoyed that he could pronounce my second name at the first attempt. "Ravi! your first name sounds nice," he declared. "It means, the 'sun'" I told him. "My second name in Spanish translates to 'bread and wine'," he chuckled "But that's nothing! one of my cousins, he is named after a rare flower."

He was one of the jolly characters i would meet that day, the other being the jovial security guard at the consulate. Courteous and playful with everyone, he made everyone feel at ease in what would otherwise have been a dour environment. He sent me down from the 9th Floor to the reception downstairs claiming that I was "one minute early". And when I came up a minute later, he had a mischievous smile on his face.

Downtown LA is a strange place. As the hours pass by, life changes in these skyscrapers. At 8:00 in the morning, the traffic was heavy, with cars honking. Within two hours, the roads were completely empty. At 3:00 in the afternoon, people dressed in immaculate suits were busy running from one building to the other. Cars were crashing into each other. I decided to walk back to the hotel, rather than take a taxi. It seemed to be an interesting day. The finals of American Idol where scheduled down the street at the Staples Centre Auditorium. Huge limousines were pulling up close to the red carpet, and girls were screaming at the top of their lungs. Next door, at the sports centre, the cheerleaders of the LA Lakers were getting ready for the NBA match in the evening. I lingered for a long time before proceeding. I had just one more thing to see, before I left LA.

After a short breather at the hotel, I walked out. The huge United Airlines aircraft greets you at the front of the California Science Centre. It forms the part of the Theodore Alexander Jr. Science School. Under the shadows of the huge aircraft, kids were busy playing basketball. Further along, stood a US Air force fighter plane. But most surprisingly, at the entrance of the parking lot, was a unique exhibit - a lever, with a car hanging on it at one end, with the other end hanging free. Anybody wishing to do so, could pull the chains at the free end (marked 1X, 2X and 4X) and lift the car. If you pulled the chain with the right force, you could lift the car. I succeeded.

In the midst of the trees, as if a mute witness to the surroundings, stood the massive Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. The seating arena sloped down to the track at the bottom. I was finally there...

Observation: Perhaps the most romantic thing in the world is to fly up in the sky on a moonlit night. But then, airplanes are so depressing.

The Pony Express - Part 13

Bhavan's Vidya Mandir, Thrissur: One day at school, our teacher made an announcement that we were to be taken to a nearby auditorium to watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I had never heard of the Olympics before. The teacher explained to me what the Olympics was. At the auditorium I watched, as the athletes went past the cheering crowd at the Los Angeles Coliseum. The huge arched doorway, with the Olympic Torch lit atop, stayed in my mind. In the days that followed, i made many a painting on what I had seen. It was the first time I had heard of the City of Los Angeles. Hence, it came as a surprise to me when I caught sight of it, late on Tuesday night. The Radisson Hotel where I was staying for the night, was situated directly opposite to the Los Angeles Coliseum.

It had been a long night. The flight was dreadful. I hadn't eaten anything. By the time I woke from my sleep, the food had got over. And the flight was already late, as we swooped down over the immense city of Los Angeles. The city seemed to stretch underneath wherever I looked. I had never seen a city bigger than this, from the air.

Fifteen beautiful pillars swathed in blue and purple light adorn the entrance to the LAX International Airport, and strangely, they reminded me of the pillars at the entrance to the town of Panaji. Getting out of the airport complex seemed to take ages. As we got on to the freeway, the first thing i noticed was the buildings that proclaimed "Raytheon". It seemed ominous. My taxi sped along the freeway at 90 miles per hour. Down below, the brightly lit city extended till the horizon - immaculately laid out roads crisscrossing each other to make rectangular patterns. The sky had an orange hue, masking out the beautiful moonlight that had lit up the ground as we flew across America.

"You're just in time, sir. You've received an upgrade, since we are running short of rooms today" said the receptionist as i walked into the lobby. As I stepped into the room, I saw two neatly laid out beds. The massive pool glinted outside.

I collapsed out of exhaustion.

Photo of the Day: None. I never carried my camera to Los Angeles.

The Pony Express - Part 12

* I guess the Phillies (i mean the baseball team, not any Philadelphian) were playing today. I take that surmise by the number of people I saw on the train wearing a "Phillies" shirt or pullover. Small-time railway stations like Paoli are no different from their counterparts India - neglected, lonely and small, as if development seemed to have gone past, completely ignoring them. The local trains though are completely different. Sleek, smooth and soundless. That one fact sometimes puts me off - i miss the 'dhadak-dhadak' of the Indian train.

* Today is Israel's Independence Day. The country celebrates its 60th anniversary. As I walked down 22nd Street, i was greeted by a massive traffic jam leading on to the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. No wonder...there was a massive procession on. All the Jews in Philadelphia had descended on to the parkway today. The rain did not seem to bother them. There they were, happily waving the flags. Of course, the anti-Israel protesters were not far behind. A handful of them, wearing black all over, were following the procession, with placards saying "It's not yet time to celebrate, Israel" and "Remember Palestine". As for me, I just ambled along.

* "Go in at 2:00, and you can come out at 5:00. It does not take more than 3 hours." Kavitha had told me the other day, about the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It was my destination today. I spent 4 hours inside the museum, before I was chucked out at 5:00 - the closing time. I had only finished seeing half of the museum.

* You might be forgiven if you thought the Philadelphia Museum of Art was dedicated to the movies. Most people who come here are more interested in clicking a photograph at the top of the massive steps that lead up to the Eastern entrance. These steps are called the "Rocky Steps." The movie poster featured Rocky Balboa standing on top of the steps, his hands raised up in determination. Everyone wants to be a Rocky...by just posing for a photograph. Sure enough, there are metallic shoe prints with the word "Rocky" imprinted on the floor.

* I might have claimed that Budapest was better than Philadelphia, but the Quaker City scores one on the basis of the Museum. The Museum houses a huge collection. Impressions made by Budapest were changed out here. Cezanne, Rubens, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh and Picasso were all there. Talking about Picasso, they have a huge collection of Modern Art, most of which did not make sense to me. Picasso's paintings were the major attraction. There was a painting called "The Bullfight", in which I failed to spot the bull, another one called "Man with the violin" in which I could not find any violin, and one called "Man with the guitar" in which I could not find...guess what?

* The worst was yet to come. There was a huge rectangular canvas which was painted all over by just one shade of blue. It was called "River." A vertical rectangular canvas strip was split into black, white, black and blue painted rectangles. It was named, not surprisingly, "two blacks, a white and a blue". Another one was named "yellow, orange and red". You can guess how it would have looked.

* The adjoining room was dedicated to modern artwork created out of photographs and postcards by a British-Italian duo: Gilbert and George. I almost choked on seeing an artwork named "Blue World." It was made out of hundreds of postcards featuring...Govinda (the actor)!

* Pragati's favourite place in Budapest was Vaci ut, the shopping street - her version of Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. Here in Philly, there are two of them - Chestnut Street and Walnut Street. I guess she would love them twice over.

Photo of the Day: Maternal Caress.

The Pony Express - Part 11

As I waited to be billed at "Giant", two guys in black jackets, earrings and all turned up at the next queue. They looked perplexed. "I need the least colourful Mother's Day card. I know it's too late, but that's what my mom likes" he blabbered to the clerk. This country is surely strange.

The drive to Washington DC was beautiful. As we entered I-95, the huge spans of the Delaware Memorial Bridge rose up in the distance. We would not be going up the bridge on our journey, but our ride would take us through a beautifully green landscape. The weather forecast had been cloudy, but the rain kept us company throughout the ride. For a change, we saw massive traffic jams, but thankfully not on our lane.

Washington DC was a major surprise. The city was more beautiful than i had ever imagined. Skyscrapers were conspicuous by their absence. Old masonry buildings hugged each other on well-planned streets. The streets were laid out in lattice patters, being named after numbers and alphabets. The bigger avenues were named after the states of the country. It was as if we had stepped into any European city.

We never needed a map, but then, we spent precious minuted finding a place to park. Every building seemed to have a huge park. "Colonial Park" - claimed the logo everywhere. Little do they know that "Colonial" had a different connotation in India. However, all the Colonial car parks seemed to be shuttered - until we realized that even though these were public car parks, they required some kind of card to be accessed.

We parked in the basement of a huge glass building - perhaps the only one in the neighborhood. Getting out of the basement seemed to be the biggest challenge for us. Following the "Exit" sign on the stairway, we stepped out into a corridor full of doors on each side, with flourescent lights hanging from above. It resembled something out of a science fiction movie - a laboratory where virus had been accidentally released.

As we ambled along, the beauty of the place was growing on us. Soon, I spotted the huge triangular top of the Washington Monument obelisk rising above the trees. A storm seemed to approaching and in the swirling clouds the immense structure seemed to sway. The sky was filled with the drone of aircrafts landing and taking off from the nearby airport. Behind us stood the massive dome of the Capitol, and ahead the sparkling fountains of the World War II Memorial, where thousands of tourists were busy clicking innumerable photgraphs. The long rectangular tank with its still water resembling a sheet of green tinted glass stretched all the way till the Lincolm Monument, a scene which I had until now, witnessed in innumerable movies. And on our right, nestled amidst a huge garden, lay what is considered by some as the most important place on earth - the White House.

But for every human, home is the most important place on earth...

Tossing him the bottle of shoe polish I had gotten from "Giant", I told Sandil: "You should be proud of it!" Written on it in small white letters were the words "Made in India".

Pic of the Day: Babies' Day Out

The Pony Express - Part 10

Maybe it is an extension to Murphy's Law that when you are really in need of the camera, you never have it with you.

Yesterday, in the midst of my conference call, i got up to stretch. There were many people at the window. For a moment, i wondered why...and then i saw it. A yellow gosling was slowly strutting along (in Malayalam, we call it "annanada", but with reference mostly to women) in the parking lot. I groped around, and realized that i didn't have my camera. Further down the parking lot was the mother goose. A gaggle of goslings were around her, quacking away busily. The mother goose led her babies across the parking lot, and more than the goslings followed her. There were a host of onlookers, interested in seeing what she was up to. On the other side of the parking lot, an employee was feeding them. People watched with amazement, some of them clicking photos with their mobile phones.

This place is always on the move. People are too busy to be at the same place on two days. For a moment, nature seemed to have brought SAP to a standstill.

Today I took my camera along (oh...i bought a bag for it last week), and it was raining heavily. Geese are not so romantinc about the rain.

On Friday, i had watched "IT" - a horror flick based on Stephen King's acclaimed horror novel. The little town of Derry holds a dark secret. The children fear it, and they believe in it. The adults, who know everything, know nothing, and can't see it. For beneath the sewers of the town, "IT" lurked...coming up at times, to feed on the fears of the little children. Only their belief can save them.

Belief...

Little Eddie Kaspbrak goes into the chemist's store to buy his canister of asthma medicine. The chemist calls him aside, and tells him: "It's just a placebo. It's nothing but water with a dash of peppermint. Your doctor and your mother are making you dependent on it!" Little Eddie can't believe it. He runs out of the store.

Belief...

Yesterday, when I went to work I forgot my asthma canister at home. I realized it as soon as i reached office. For a moment I panicked. And then I told myself: "I'll resist an attack if it happens. After all it is just water with a dash of peppermint!" After lunch, I had a mild attack. I resisted. In ten minutes, it was gone.

Belief...

I was proud of myself. I survived the day. Snag didn't seem too impressed when i related the incident to her on chat. "You should take more care of yourself" she said. "What if you'd fallen sick while driving?" Frankly, I had never considered that possibility until she mentioned it.

The Pony Express - Part 9 - Epilogue

These Americans are crazy (by Toutatis)! Look what I found on Wikipedia about the City Hall and its clock tower:

"For many years, City Hall remained the tallest building in Philadelphia under the terms of a 'gentlemen's agreement' that forbade any structure from rising above the William Penn statue atop City Hall. In 1987, it lost this distinction when One Liberty Place was completed. (The breaking of this agreement is said to be the cause of the so-called Curse of Billy Penn, under the supposed influence of which no major-league Philadelphia sports team has won a championship since 1983.)"

Of all the things, he had to curse sports teams. I wonder if someone at the (soon-to-be) old airport has cursed the Bangalore Royal Challengers.

The Pony Express - Part 9

The motorists in Philadelphia seem to be short of patience. I've never heard so much of honking. It irritates you to walk along the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Lining the Parkway are some of the most beautiful buildings that you come across in this city - the cathedral of St. Peter and Paul, the Free Library of Philadelphia, the Benjamin Franklin (him again) Institute Science Museum, the Moore College of Arts, and the Rodin Museum.

Splitting the Parkway in the middle stands the Logan Square, one of the first four squares to be built in the city, with the beautiful Swann Fountain. The huge fountain consists of three figures, each holding a swan-like bird (hence NOT the name - it was built by Maria Swann in memory of her husband) spouting water. They are bathed from the waters spit out by frogs and turtles that stand at the periphery of the fountain. At 2:30 in the afternoon, children were splashing around inside the fountain. I headed towards the science museum for a photo shot. The place seemed to be a beehive of activity. A couple sat on the sidewalk - the girl in tears, with her lover trying to soothe her with pleasant words. A father was trying hard to compose a picture with a huge camera, at the same time trying to hold his son at bay. The ice cream vendors were having a whale of a time. From behind the columns at the entrance, hung a huge banner, proclaiming an exhibit on Pirates. As I readied my camera for a shot, the sight before me took my breath away. Painted on the steps leading to the doorway, was the huge picture of Darth Vader.

The rest of the Ben Franklin Parkway reminded me of the Champs Elysee. Huge tree-covered pathways run along its side. Music blares from a zillion music players on the sidewalks. There are so less vehicles on the road that you could well have a temptation to jay-walk - a desire amply demonstrated by the youngsters who cavort on the road on the roller skates until an oncoming car honks them out of their reverie. I walked along, looking at the various flags. A middle-aged French woman was busy photographing her national flag, and lo, there flew the Indian tricolour. It was ironic to find it there, fluttering majestically in the wind, when in our own country, a citizen cannot have the liberty to fly the flag. A few feet away, atop the now-famous "Rocky Steps" (courtesy Sylvester Stallone), stood the beautiful facade of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. a huge banner of Frida Kahlo hung from its side, and ironically, she resembled Salma Hayek. The statue of Rocky stood to a side, and there seemed to be more people photographing it than heading into the museum. I walked around it, and headed towards the waterworks on the Schuylkill river, lured by the music emanating from a thousand music players. And sure enough, there was a crowd watching a brilliant display of dancers on skates. Evening was a revelry.

Across the 30th Street Station, on the banks of the Schuylkill stood "2400", the 30-odd storied apartment where Kavitha resided. It was just across the block, and I still had trouble finding it. She kept claiming on the phone that she could see me ambling along. I wondered whether she had binoculars for eyes, until i found the building (of course, it helped that she lived on the thirtieth floor - the view from her window was awesome). She'd said her house was a mess, but it was a garden compared to my room back home. "Is 2400 the address to the place?" I asked. "Yes. It's such a stupid name for an apartment" she relied back. "Well, what do you want? Would you prefer something like 'Mantri residency'??" I quipped back. We kept chattering until lunch was served. It was a quaint little restaurant called "Continental" and we were sitting on, believe it or not, swings. "Do you like chocolates?" she enquired. I couldn't hide my grin. The best was yet to come.

"It's pure unadulterated chocolate" she claimed, and so it was - Naked Chocolate Cafe. The place was full of chocolates. Bars, nuggets and what else. I slurped two cups of hot bittersweet chocolate - mine as well as Kavitha's. Forrest's Mama always said life is like a box of chocolates. I wonder why she limited it to a box...

Picture of the Day: It took me ages to capture the Indian Tricolor, as it fluttered freely in the afternoon breeze. Ironically, this was the only streetlight that was still lit at 3:00 PM.

The Pony Express - Part 8

For a moment, it was like being back in Budapest - those last three days that I spent walking around the city - as i started the long walk down Benjamin Franklin Parkway (For the Mumbaikars: this guy is the Chhatrapati Shivaji of Philadelphia..and no, that's not the Thalaivar for the Tamilian.) Realization soon dawned that it was not to be so. Philadelphia is beautiful, but Budapest is better. As you walk along the Parkway, the first thing that catches your attention is the string of flags that dot the sidewalks. Far ahead you can spot a majestic building conspicuous with its Greek columns - the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Earlier in the day, this was to be my destination. But as the day progressed, I was just content to walk around.

The Benjamin Franklin Parkway, is a picturesque road that runs through the middle of the cultural heart of Philadelphia. On one end towers the black and grey walls of the world's tallest masonry building, the Philadelphia City Hall, cleaving the beautiful Broad Street into two. I got my first glimpse of the building as I crossed Broad Street further down the block. There it stood, further along the street, towering up as if out of a B-Grade Hollywood flick. I was immediately captured by its beauty. "I have to photograph it some time" I told Kavitha, as we headed further down.

The City Hall is frequented by few tourists - perhaps only those who find it beautiful enough to be a side distraction, as a prop in the background for a photograph. There seemed to be more beggars than tourists around the place. Around the corner stood the JFK Plaza, with its famous LOVE sculpture. Needless to say, there were many young couples, intent on taking photographs in and around it. What attracted me most was the lively atmosphere around the square. The fountain was gushing up, as if in a losing challenge to the huge clock tower of the City Hall in the background. Youngsters were busy flaunting their skills on the bicycles and skateboards. There was a sense of deja vu; a scene i had witnessed at Deak Ferenc Ter in Budapest. It seemed as if all and sundry had converged onto this small square (mind you, Minsk Square in Bangalore - technically though that is anything but a square in shape - is bigger than this), for there were no tourists to be seen on any of the side streets.

A small black mark on the map caught my attention. At the corner of Broad Street was marked a square symbolising the Masonic Temple. The dark and controversial history of the Freemasons piqued my curiosity. My map claimed that this was one of the oldest Grand Lodges in the United States. I ran towards it, only to find the huge building draped in a black cloth, resembling a woman in mourning. A mammoth flag of the United States fluttered from the top. It was under renovation.

Pic of the Day - 1:
"Who's taller? Me or you?"

Prelude to Pony Express Part 8

A splitting headache is my reward for what has perhaps been my most beautiful day so far...a day that I spent walking around the streets of philadelphia, clicking a 100 photographs. Perhaps it was a premonition that the train to Malvern from the 3oth Street station was late by a minute in the evening. The Pony Express may be delayed, but not derailed...it has to wait till tomorrow. Until then...the pic of the day (or weekend).

Pic of the Day: On bright summer days, the Promised Land State Park may be lively. But on Saturday, it was lovely.