A Bon Voyage - Part 1
Sorry for the long break ppl... but it's been quite crazy over here. I have too many things to write about so I figured I'd start with the trip.
I had a very eventful trip to India this time around. Wasn't all fun, but it did make it one to remember nonetheless.
I have always had a knack for packing. In fact ever since I was 17 I have discovered a method to pack one and a half times a normal person. So added to that my knack for procrastination as well, I kept my packing for the last few hours before my flight. It was an early morning flight. I was supposed to be out of the house by around 5 in the morning to meet the 2 hr buffer that is generally required for International flights. Being the night out champ back in college, I figured what the heck, may as well stay up until around 2 and then start packing. So I browsed the web, listening to songs, and generally killing time until around 1 in the morning... Then for some reason I felt really sleepy! So I figured what the hey.... may as well catch a few Zs and wake up all refreshed for the flight.
Unfortunately I forgot to set the alarm clock! So I was blisfully sleeping until my house-mate who was supposed to drop me off at the airport came stumbling up the stairs to see if I was ready to leave. I can't remember exactly what happened next. I remember running around a lot, jumping up and down trying to remember where my suitcases were (they were in the garage)... and then cramming everything into a suitcase. Unfortunately not everything would fit in one suitcase, so I had to pack everything into 2 suitcases.
Anyways all's well that ends well and I was able to get out of the house at 5:30. Got checked in suprisingly quickly given that it was an international flight and went inside to board the flight. Sleep came to me in tidal waves as soon as my butt touched the seat. I can't remember exactly how I boarded the flight. Given that I had a seat to myself it was all well and good. I slept the entire way to Dallas without stirring an inch!
Anyways when I reached Dallas I had a few hours to kill. I was up now and needed something to do. So I figured let me go to the gym a while. I had brought some workout clothes after all, and the airportgyms.com site said that the nearest gym was only a ten minute ride. So I get out of the airport, catch a taxi and started speaking in my broken spanish to the driver.... only to discover that he didn't know any Spanish :(. I always like to impress ppl with my Spanish and then nonchalantly tell them that I was from India and no I did not stay in Honduras for very long and yes I was very smart to pick up so much Spanish so quickly. With the poor guy not understanding any Spanish (nor English) we commincated using my version of sign language, much to the amazement of some bystanders on the road.
An unfortunate side-effect was getting lost before finally stumbling and bumbling our way to the gym. The rogue cost me $35 just to get there though. Anyways I figured since I was already there, may as well work out properly. So I had a wonderful workout in my work shoes (I found out that I had forgotten to pack my workout shoes) drawing a lot of strange looks as soon as people happened to glance at my feet. I suppose they supposed that I was one of those crazy freaks that just happen to crawl out of the woodwork. Wasn't able to run so I used to sauna for a while just to sweat a little. I fell asleep in the sauna (It was so nice in there) and luckily someone woke me up before I dehydrated away into oblivion. I rushed into the shower drinking as much water as
I was using to clean myself, jumped into my clothes and then caught a taxi back to the airport.
It was then I discovered that even going back to the airport was a pain! It cost me just as much to get into the airport as it did to get out. Damn taxi drivers in Dallas really know how to squeeze your wallet dry as well. You can't haggle over the price either so well couldn't really do much about the sneaking suspicion I had that I had been nicely cheated out of $10.
Went into the airport and ate at a Taco Bell because I figured at least I could minimize the damage with some cheap food. I was schoked to find out what normally cost a couple of dollars outside the airport cost 4 times as much in it. I was too hungry to not eat, so I just kept cursing the swindlers between mouthfuls of my burritos. May their dollars wilt and catch the umm... fungus I guess.
The flight to Chicago was just as uneventful as the previous one. I had successfuly tired myself out enough to sleep the entire 2 hrs into Chicago.
to be contd.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Ramblings
Today was in essence a bad day. It started out with a flat tire, India losing like wimps to the Windies in cricket, a really boring day at the office where I couldn't seem to get anything done, and of course no time for a workout.
I always feel a little cranky when I don't manage to sweat a bit. An unfortunate side-effect results in my being too hyperactive to do anything worthwhile.
Although I cannot wait to get to India... wait I will have to. Oh how I wish we had those teleporters that could get us from one corner of the globe to another in the blink of an eye! I shouldn't be complaining too much I suppose. This trip is not going to be as bad as some of my other trips back home.
I only have 2 stopovers to make; neither longer than 4 hrs each. Although the wait between flights will be a little on the boring side, I have some opportunities to do something more than visit all the restrooms and shops in each terminal.
I found this awesome site called airportgyms.com which lists all the gyms around the airports that I can go to before my next flight. Since my layover at Dallas is going to be a little on the longer side, I figured I could just as well do something healthy and spend a few dollars to workout a little.
After all I have to be cramped up on the plane for long enough... so why not tire myself out completely and ensure that I get some shut eye on the next couple of flights. Unfortunately none of the movies that American Airlines is going to air during my 15 hr flight to Delhi seem to be any good. And with my luck in travelling companions, I'll either be sitting next to a lady with a crying baby, or an old person looking to get drunk on the complimentary alcoholic beverages.
The good thing is that I have a work laptop this time around, so I will be able to download some e-books onto my computer for my reading pleasure. Unfortunately I'm sure my eyes will go on strike if I read too much. So workout it is.
I have a few hours left before I actually catch my flight... so any hints on what I can do during the long flights?
Today was in essence a bad day. It started out with a flat tire, India losing like wimps to the Windies in cricket, a really boring day at the office where I couldn't seem to get anything done, and of course no time for a workout.
I always feel a little cranky when I don't manage to sweat a bit. An unfortunate side-effect results in my being too hyperactive to do anything worthwhile.
Although I cannot wait to get to India... wait I will have to. Oh how I wish we had those teleporters that could get us from one corner of the globe to another in the blink of an eye! I shouldn't be complaining too much I suppose. This trip is not going to be as bad as some of my other trips back home.
I only have 2 stopovers to make; neither longer than 4 hrs each. Although the wait between flights will be a little on the boring side, I have some opportunities to do something more than visit all the restrooms and shops in each terminal.
I found this awesome site called airportgyms.com which lists all the gyms around the airports that I can go to before my next flight. Since my layover at Dallas is going to be a little on the longer side, I figured I could just as well do something healthy and spend a few dollars to workout a little.
After all I have to be cramped up on the plane for long enough... so why not tire myself out completely and ensure that I get some shut eye on the next couple of flights. Unfortunately none of the movies that American Airlines is going to air during my 15 hr flight to Delhi seem to be any good. And with my luck in travelling companions, I'll either be sitting next to a lady with a crying baby, or an old person looking to get drunk on the complimentary alcoholic beverages.
The good thing is that I have a work laptop this time around, so I will be able to download some e-books onto my computer for my reading pleasure. Unfortunately I'm sure my eyes will go on strike if I read too much. So workout it is.
I have a few hours left before I actually catch my flight... so any hints on what I can do during the long flights?
And so it begins!
When I woke up the calendar stated that it was the 14th. The day before my date with an American Airlines flight that would take me to my beloved country.
It has been 4 long since I've last visited India. I've done so many things since then! I've graduated from university. I've got a couple of Master's degrees. I've started working, bought a car, a house and yet I feel like a kid again.
The same kid that seems to awaken within me everytime something momentous is about to happen. The kid in me that refuses to go away. The excitable little un that keeps reminding me that no matter how old I grow, I will always have a little part of me that will always be excited, joyous, wonderous of everything. One that will keep me company when all around me starts to look tired and jaded.
I'm not really sure why this trip feels so momentous. It just does.
So India ... here I come!
When I woke up the calendar stated that it was the 14th. The day before my date with an American Airlines flight that would take me to my beloved country.
It has been 4 long since I've last visited India. I've done so many things since then! I've graduated from university. I've got a couple of Master's degrees. I've started working, bought a car, a house and yet I feel like a kid again.
The same kid that seems to awaken within me everytime something momentous is about to happen. The kid in me that refuses to go away. The excitable little un that keeps reminding me that no matter how old I grow, I will always have a little part of me that will always be excited, joyous, wonderous of everything. One that will keep me company when all around me starts to look tired and jaded.
I'm not really sure why this trip feels so momentous. It just does.
So India ... here I come!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
You'll be an Agassi, my son!
Superstar, Loser, Pariah, Average Joe, Hero, Legend ... he donned 'em all.
When he first burst onto the international tennis scene people hated him. In fact it was quite fashionable to hate the man who claimed that "Image is everything". A man who heralded himself to be bigger than the game and all it stood for. A man who defied convention for nothing more than win popularity with his showmanship.
And yet 21 years hence when he decided to lay his racket to rest people couldn't stop their eyes from becoming moist with tears. Grown men sobbed without abandon and the same people who wished him ill-will, uttered heartfelt prayers willing him to beat his opponents.
The world has superstars aplenty. They come and they go - each hogging their few years of fame and adulation; only to be relegated into the annals of anonymity by time. Agassi seemed to have it all. Hero worshipping groupies, fame, public adulation, money.... He was seen at the right places with the right type of people. He dated a woman that most men would have happily given up their left arm to be seen with, let alone go steady with. And yet he plummeted into the depths of failure. His failure in love transformed him into a loser. A man who crashed and burned like so many others before him did and will in the future.
He did not matter anymore. Bereft of his skills on the tennis court he was cast aside like an old glove - his magnificent achievements no more than mere statistics for trivia buffs to recall. When the high and mighty fall there is a certain satisfaction that everyone receives on seeing them fall. They say you make many enemies on your way to the top and Agassi met each and everyone on his way down. The papparazzi took great joy in dissecting his broken heart with up to the minute pictures of his freefalling ATP rankings, his drinking binges, and, bulging waist line. Men who would have waited in a line for days for his autograph were taking him to the cleaners in tennis matches.
Then suddenly he was making the news again. Agassi was back. He had shed his famous flowing locks for a bald look. People laughed at this portly bald man who was attempting to make a name for himself again. Others doubted him. After all what was he other than a fallen superstar? How many more self-destructing ex-famous people did the world really need? And yet, he did not give up.
The man fought against all the odds to reclaim his rightful place among the best in the tennis world. Everybody had something that they identified in him - something that everyone knew about - failure. And yet he was so much more than just a mere mortal! Humble in his losses and even more so with his victories. No more did he claim that "Image is everything".
Soon he was among the elite again. But Agassi had changed. No more was he just a superstar. He was someone who laughed in the face of adversity and yet fought valiantly to overcome. A Hero!
Despite the adulation he merited with his famous performances, he stayed right here - his feet firmly on the ground, head bowed in appreciation for his support. In his final interview; almost a religious experience for me as a viewer, I almost cried when I heard him quote:
After all - how many people can claim to have received a standing ovation not only from his peers, and, his fans; but a nation that only loves winners?
Rudyard Kipling may well have ended his poem differently had he written it last week.
© Getty Images
Superstar, Loser, Pariah, Average Joe, Hero, Legend ... he donned 'em all.
When he first burst onto the international tennis scene people hated him. In fact it was quite fashionable to hate the man who claimed that "Image is everything". A man who heralded himself to be bigger than the game and all it stood for. A man who defied convention for nothing more than win popularity with his showmanship.
And yet 21 years hence when he decided to lay his racket to rest people couldn't stop their eyes from becoming moist with tears. Grown men sobbed without abandon and the same people who wished him ill-will, uttered heartfelt prayers willing him to beat his opponents.
The world has superstars aplenty. They come and they go - each hogging their few years of fame and adulation; only to be relegated into the annals of anonymity by time. Agassi seemed to have it all. Hero worshipping groupies, fame, public adulation, money.... He was seen at the right places with the right type of people. He dated a woman that most men would have happily given up their left arm to be seen with, let alone go steady with. And yet he plummeted into the depths of failure. His failure in love transformed him into a loser. A man who crashed and burned like so many others before him did and will in the future.
He did not matter anymore. Bereft of his skills on the tennis court he was cast aside like an old glove - his magnificent achievements no more than mere statistics for trivia buffs to recall. When the high and mighty fall there is a certain satisfaction that everyone receives on seeing them fall. They say you make many enemies on your way to the top and Agassi met each and everyone on his way down. The papparazzi took great joy in dissecting his broken heart with up to the minute pictures of his freefalling ATP rankings, his drinking binges, and, bulging waist line. Men who would have waited in a line for days for his autograph were taking him to the cleaners in tennis matches.
Then suddenly he was making the news again. Agassi was back. He had shed his famous flowing locks for a bald look. People laughed at this portly bald man who was attempting to make a name for himself again. Others doubted him. After all what was he other than a fallen superstar? How many more self-destructing ex-famous people did the world really need? And yet, he did not give up.
The man fought against all the odds to reclaim his rightful place among the best in the tennis world. Everybody had something that they identified in him - something that everyone knew about - failure. And yet he was so much more than just a mere mortal! Humble in his losses and even more so with his victories. No more did he claim that "Image is everything".
Soon he was among the elite again. But Agassi had changed. No more was he just a superstar. He was someone who laughed in the face of adversity and yet fought valiantly to overcome. A Hero!
Despite the adulation he merited with his famous performances, he stayed right here - his feet firmly on the ground, head bowed in appreciation for his support. In his final interview; almost a religious experience for me as a viewer, I almost cried when I heard him quote:
"The scoreboard says I lost today, but what scoreboard doesn't say is what it is I have found. Over the last 21 years I have found loyalty; you have pulled for me on the court and also in life. I have found inspiration. You have willed me to succeed, sometimes even in my lowest moments. And I have found generosity. You have given me your shoulders to stand on to reach for my dreams; dreams I could never have reached without you. Over the the last 21 years I have found you and I will take you and the memory of you with me for the rest of my life."
After all - how many people can claim to have received a standing ovation not only from his peers, and, his fans; but a nation that only loves winners?
Rudyard Kipling may well have ended his poem differently had he written it last week.
© Getty Images
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
My Pre-Tennis game ritual
This one's an oldie - couldn't think of anything funny of late and figured this blog needed some humor after a long line of serious senti stuff. If you have read this pls skip down and read the fabulous article Rams wrote about the Siddivinayak temple.
John: "Hey Guys. This is Bart. He will be playing #2 singles tonight"
Craig: "Hey Bart, I'm Craig"
Bob: "Bob"
Me (being stupid): "Hey guys. Pleased to meet you. I'm Bharath"
Jack: "Baaraaat?"
Me: "No Bharath"
Craig: "Burut?"
Me: "No Bharath"
Bob: "Please don't take offence Bart. I'm just trying to pronounce your name properly."
Me: "No really! It's fine. I understand. You can call me anything that sounds like my name. No offence taken!"
John: "We just call him Bart"
Me: "Yeah. It's fine. I know who you mean. I always call myself Bharath.... but I don't expect you guys to pronounce it properly. So no worries. Shall we start then?"
Craig: "Braaath?"
Me (sighing): "No well... it's more like ba as in barter, ra as in rabies, ith the way kith ends"
Bob (with lighted eyes): "Baraaaaaat?"
Me: "Yeah that's fine"
Craig (suspicious): "That's not the way you pronounce it though is it?"
Me: "No really! That was great!"
Bob: "Oh cmon Bart. How do you pronounce it?"
Me: "It really doesn't matter. As long as it sounds like my name, I don't really care!"
John: "Yea! We tried too. We just call him Bart."
Bart: "Did someone call me?"
John (giggling): "No we were just trying to pronounce Bart's name"
Me (giggling): "Yea. Go away Bart!"
Jim: "You guys haven't started your game yet?"
Craig: "We're just trying to learn how to pronounce Bart's name. But he won't tell us. We don't want to offend him y'know"
John: "Yea we just call him Bart"
Me: "I really don't get offended! I understand!"
Bob: "Barut?"
Me: "I got a new can of balls. Wanna do the toss now or later?"
Craig: "No Bob... It's more like Barith right Bart?"
Me (Beaming): "Right on the money bud. So W or M?"
Bob (Beaming): "Burith? I knew I would get it right!"
Me (Beaming): "Yeah. You guys are so good at pronouncing it!"
John: "Hey guys! Lee just told me that Tim is playing Bart tonight."
Me: "Oh ok."
Tim: "Hey Bart! I'm Tim"
Me: "Hey Tim! I'm Bharath. Do you want to practice a bit first or toss?"
Tim (interested): "Barat?"
John: "We just call him Bart."
Me: "D'oh!"
This one's an oldie - couldn't think of anything funny of late and figured this blog needed some humor after a long line of serious senti stuff. If you have read this pls skip down and read the fabulous article Rams wrote about the Siddivinayak temple.
John: "Hey Guys. This is Bart. He will be playing #2 singles tonight"
Craig: "Hey Bart, I'm Craig"
Bob: "Bob"
Me (being stupid): "Hey guys. Pleased to meet you. I'm Bharath"
Jack: "Baaraaat?"
Me: "No Bharath"
Craig: "Burut?"
Me: "No Bharath"
Bob: "Please don't take offence Bart. I'm just trying to pronounce your name properly."
Me: "No really! It's fine. I understand. You can call me anything that sounds like my name. No offence taken!"
John: "We just call him Bart"
Me: "Yeah. It's fine. I know who you mean. I always call myself Bharath.... but I don't expect you guys to pronounce it properly. So no worries. Shall we start then?"
Craig: "Braaath?"
Me (sighing): "No well... it's more like ba as in barter, ra as in rabies, ith the way kith ends"
Bob (with lighted eyes): "Baraaaaaat?"
Me: "Yeah that's fine"
Craig (suspicious): "That's not the way you pronounce it though is it?"
Me: "No really! That was great!"
Bob: "Oh cmon Bart. How do you pronounce it?"
Me: "It really doesn't matter. As long as it sounds like my name, I don't really care!"
John: "Yea! We tried too. We just call him Bart."
Bart: "Did someone call me?"
John (giggling): "No we were just trying to pronounce Bart's name"
Me (giggling): "Yea. Go away Bart!"
Jim: "You guys haven't started your game yet?"
Craig: "We're just trying to learn how to pronounce Bart's name. But he won't tell us. We don't want to offend him y'know"
John: "Yea we just call him Bart"
Me: "I really don't get offended! I understand!"
Bob: "Barut?"
Me: "I got a new can of balls. Wanna do the toss now or later?"
Craig: "No Bob... It's more like Barith right Bart?"
Me (Beaming): "Right on the money bud. So W or M?"
Bob (Beaming): "Burith? I knew I would get it right!"
Me (Beaming): "Yeah. You guys are so good at pronouncing it!"
John: "Hey guys! Lee just told me that Tim is playing Bart tonight."
Me: "Oh ok."
Tim: "Hey Bart! I'm Tim"
Me: "Hey Tim! I'm Bharath. Do you want to practice a bit first or toss?"
Tim (interested): "Barat?"
John: "We just call him Bart."
Me: "D'oh!"
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
I'm not a big fan of prose. In fact I hate prose.... those lying poets promising people the moon and stars when they damn well know it takes more than a space shuttle to even get close to one let alone drag the damn thing back. I mean what will their beloved do with stars anyways? It's not they can collect them or something.
On the same lines, I'm not a big fan of song lyrics. When I listen to a song, it's more about the tune than the actual song itself. Which probably why I can never really remember the words of a song when I try to sing along to them. I always sing the wrong words!
But occasionally there comes a song that I fall in love with. Not just the tune, but also the words. Words that enhance the actual the beauty of the song itself. Take the song Tere Bin from the movie Bas Ek Pal.
Gorgeous! I've been listening to it all day.
Why do songs evoke such feelings? When I listen to a song it's more than a medley of sounds and words. It is almost a religious experience. Not only do I hear the song, but somehow the entire moment seems to get imprinted into my mind forever.
I get so nostalgic when I listen to songs. When I hear the Alai Payuthey songs, I recollect all the things I did on my trip of 2000 to India. The crazy impersonations of Madhavan on a bike, or maybe the numerous bus rides I took to and from Airport road on my way to my internship at IBM. Or my visits to all the bholi stalls in Mambalam.
Others transport me back to road trips I took with friends. Those 14 hr odysseys to Austin, New Orleans, Key West, the Smoky Mountains. The songs seem to personify my memories in ways that can only be described as penseive-ish (think Harry Potter). A magical slideshow of bittersweet memories that often end in my smiling wistfully. And then.... I hit play again...
On the same lines, I'm not a big fan of song lyrics. When I listen to a song, it's more about the tune than the actual song itself. Which probably why I can never really remember the words of a song when I try to sing along to them. I always sing the wrong words!
But occasionally there comes a song that I fall in love with. Not just the tune, but also the words. Words that enhance the actual the beauty of the song itself. Take the song Tere Bin from the movie Bas Ek Pal.
Gorgeous! I've been listening to it all day.
tere bin main yun kaise jiya
kaise jiya tere bin
tere bin main yun kaise jiya
kaise jiya tere bin
lekar yaad teri raaten meri kati - 2
mujhse baaten teri karti hai chaandani
tanha hai tujh bin raaten meri
din mere din ke jaise nahi
tanha badan tanha hai ruh nam meri aankhen rahe
aaja mere ab rubaru
jeena nahi bin tere
tere bin main yun kaise jiya
kaise jiya tere bin
tere bin main yun kaise jiya
kaise jiya tere bin
kabse aankhen meri raah mein tere bichhi - 2
bhule se hi kahi tu mil jaaye kabhi
bhule na mujhse baaten teri
bheegi hai har pal aankhen meri
kyun saans loon kyun main jiyu
jeena bura sa lage
kyun ho gaya tu bewafaaa mujhko bata de wajah
tere bin main yun kaise jiya
kaise jiya tere bin ...
tere bin main yun kaise jiya
kaise jiya tere bin ...
Why do songs evoke such feelings? When I listen to a song it's more than a medley of sounds and words. It is almost a religious experience. Not only do I hear the song, but somehow the entire moment seems to get imprinted into my mind forever.
I get so nostalgic when I listen to songs. When I hear the Alai Payuthey songs, I recollect all the things I did on my trip of 2000 to India. The crazy impersonations of Madhavan on a bike, or maybe the numerous bus rides I took to and from Airport road on my way to my internship at IBM. Or my visits to all the bholi stalls in Mambalam.
Others transport me back to road trips I took with friends. Those 14 hr odysseys to Austin, New Orleans, Key West, the Smoky Mountains. The songs seem to personify my memories in ways that can only be described as penseive-ish (think Harry Potter). A magical slideshow of bittersweet memories that often end in my smiling wistfully. And then.... I hit play again...
Sunday, September 03, 2006
The climbing wall
I found out a new fun activity today...the climbing wall! I've never really climbed before. Although I've never been strength challenged, I've always been a little inflexible - so I never really gave climbing much thought.
But it's really fun! Fun doesn't get much easier than this. You just strap on a harness, a helmet and then all you do is climb. Doesn't get much simpler than that!
I was volunteering at the County Parks and as a volunteer I helped their staff manage the kiddie line at the climbing wall for a private party. Hoardes of kids kept lining up to scale the walls. Although I've always loved kids... four hours of getting them to get into harnesses and slapping on helmets makes for some pretty intense physical labor. Give me a couple of hundred sacks to lug around any day! Not to mention that a lot of them were quite excited about being able to climb the wall and so wouldn't stop shouting and screaming!
It was cute in the beginning, but got old very quickly! My ears are still a little hard of hearing when one girl of about 8 started shrieking to her parents about how excited she was to climb and how they should watch her make it to the very top! And all this with my poor eardrums a mere 10 inches from her open mouth!
Well anyways, the harness changing for the kids was really worth it, coz at the end us volunteers could go up and down the wall for free. I really wasn't planning on climbing the wall, but after seeing all the kids go at it I figured why not give it a go. So it didn't take a couple of other volunteers much to get me to get strapped in and doggedly swarm up the wall. It was surprisingly easy and even more fun! And I actually managed to do the second most difficult climb. Coming down though was my favorite part. Once you get all the way to the top, you just lean back, keep both hands on the harness and rapel your way down. I was a little disappointed to find that we had to pack up. I envied the little kids that kept coming back again and again to climb the wall.
I know I'm going to volunteer again for the county parks so I can try out some of the other climbs on the wall. Hopefully we'll have to serivice some playboy centerfolds this time instead of a bunch of screaming kids.... not that there's a difference... I mean it would just be so much more fun getting the former into harnesses and making sure they had the harnesses on correctly. :D. (If not playboy centerfolds, even the local cheerleading team will do. After all for us volunteers it's our work that comes first)
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