Sailing with Sara - Aboard the ' AP Moller'

The vessel tour is part of the training program and its purpose is to get us to familiarize with the working of a vessel and view from close quarters the daily workings aboard a company vessel. After much delays and disappointments – me and Sara had got permissions on three other vessels all of which had to be dropped due to one reason or the other - we finally got our chance on the ‘ A.P Moller ‘. It was with a mix of childlike excitement and bit of trepidation that we signed on to the Vessel at the Port of Singapore. Excitement because, we were getting a chance to sail on a ship, and trepidation because we were to spend a week aboard and we have heard from many friends and colleagues that 7 is too long a period and one would be bored to death. Also one was not sure about the exact nature of work required to be done on the vessel by us.

The vessel ‘AP Moller’ is one of the biggest in the Maersk fleet. With a length of 347 metres and say about 15 stories high, this one was one mean machine. A Danish flag vessel, it plied on the Asia Europe leg. Our trip was to take us to Kaoshiung in Taiwan and from there to Busan in South Korea. We got introduced to the Captain and the Chief Mate at the ships office and got our training schedule for the week. We were also given the boiler suit, helmet and safety gloves, essential while working on the engine room. First step was to move our belongings to the cabins allotted to us. Located on the C deck, the cabins were minimal but comfortable. A bed, a sofa, writing table, couple of chairs, a cabinet, a small fridge and an attached bathroom. Perfect.

We changed into our boiling suits and accompanied a deck cadet ( an Indian) on a familiarization trip around the vessel. The funny part here was Sara’s boiler suit. The smallest size available still measured double her size and she simply could not fit into one. She had to cut, tear and resize a brand new boiler suit and then get into it. We covered every nook and corner in the vessel, right from the bridge at the top most deck to the captains office, the radio room, engine room, the rudder area, the galley, the ships control centre, the dining salon, the DVD library, the TV room, the library, the gymnasium, infirmary, stores , the aft, the rear , the deck. Each and every part of the ship was covered in a few hours. We were also told about the timings for the meals, the do s and don’t s, the rules for purchasing of food items from the stores, timings for the movies and the like. After a pretty exhaustive session we retired to our rooms. The vessel was still at port and the expected time of departure was next day morning.

We got a call at 5 am next morning, asking us to report to the bridge for the sailing. With the aid of the pilot the huge vessel started slowly pulling away from the pier and into the channel. Being such a large vessel I did not feel the movement at all. You literally had to see it to belive that the vessel was on it way and moving. Singapore being such a busy port, the traffic was pretty heavy and the pilot was constantly on the watch advising the course and changes to be made. After a couple of hours on the watch, we got down, changed, had breakfast and started day one.

The meal timings were 7.30 am, 12 noon and 5.30 pm. And the chief mate had scheduled our sessions around these timings. So on any given day, we would have a few hours of bridge watch, a session with any one of the ships officers and also lots of free time. We learned about plotting the course of navigation on a map, the various life saving equipment, the plethora of systems, controls and indicators on the bridge. We had sessions with the Captain, the Chief engineer, the chief mate, the cook, the reefer technician and almost all the officers. Each session was enlightening in its own way. The evenings were

completely free. Usually that meant a movie or 2 in the TV room, or just sitting in the room enjoying some coke and chips and chatting about everything under the sun. With my agnostic irreverence towards religion pitted against Sara’s deep rooted religious beliefs there was enough and more heated debates centering around god, idols ,worship, rituals, superstitions and the like. There were no losers, as both won on the account of gaining some new knowledge about each others religion. I do not remember a time when I had so much time to kill, with no intrusion of the mobile phone, any newspapers or Television to turn to, no Internet to chat, no touch with the outside world. Just me, my colleague Sara, and the crew members. It was

just so relaxing..

On one of the days we had a lifeboat and fire drill. We were doing a mock training session on steps to be taken in case of an emergency. Putting on the life vest, recognizing the signals, getting to know each ones roles during an emergency were some of the training given. Also must mention that getting into a lifeboat all prepared for a drop into the ocean for not exactly funny.

If the bridge represents the calm, cruising, chilled out version of the life on a ship, the engine room is the opposite. Noisy, dirty and extremely hot the engine room and the engine area were extremely difficult sessions. One has to salute the engineers and officers working on the engine as they have to be constantly on the watch and monitor the controls and all that in extremely taxing and demanding en

vironments. By the way the engine room has more controls and monitors then a space shuttle (courtesy a Discovery channel documentary, which a cadet swears by).

Food was Danish all the way. We felt like being in the module centre in Copenhagen whenever we were at the dining room especially during breakfast. Bread, butter, jam, apple juice and yoghurt were the standardized breakfast for me. Lunch and dinner were okay and I managed to hang in there. Sara had difficulty finding her type of food and she compensated for that by having enough and more of Coke and Pringles, not to mention chocolates by the dozens. The DVD room had a collection of more than 500 odd titles. Since there were 3 Indians on board apart from us two, there were also Hindi movies to choose from and we ended up watching some Hindi movies on top of the English ones. The best thing for me was finally getting the chance to watch ‘The Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ a movie I have dying to watch for ages now.

After 4 days of sailing on the South China Sea we reached the Taiwanese por

t of Kaoshiung. Since the port call was only for some hours, we did not venture out or anything. We just observed the cranes working on the vessel. Soon we set sail to Busan

Perhaps the best place to be in a vessel is the aft, the extreme front end of the ship. Remember ‘Titanic – the am flying scene ‘and you would know which part I am referrin

g to. With no sound of the engine there the place is extremely quiet. Just standing there and staring at the vast blue ocean all around you is such surreal an experience. Miles and miles of water, the silence broken only by the faint sound of the ship ploughing through the sea, the aft was an amazing place to be. Standing at the nose and raising your arms, you do feel as if you are flying. James Cameron was not wrong after all.

During our interaction with the sailors one could easily make out that life aboar

d was not that fun. Staying away from land and your family and kids for months together, working at odd hours, sometimes in tough and demanding conditions, these people have a tough time on board. It is only the vacation at the end of a trip that keeps them going. And of course the pay. Even though the company takes care of them well and gives them good facilities, bet each one of them is willing to trade this for a job ashore and being in the company of family and friends. But then now they have to be on board and run these mighty ships which carry more than half of world’s trade on them.

Soon we reached Busan and it was time to disembark. Contrary to my fears that it would be extremely boring, the vessel tour was very exciting. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and am happy that we could make full use of it. It was great learning as well as a much needed rest from the hustle and bustle of life on the land. The 7 days aboard the AP Moller, would always be a very special memory.

Vessel Tour - Singapore Diary.

Modern city state, shoppers paradise, food capital of Asia , clean , prosperous, lots of Indians and of course the Merlion at the Sea front … these were some of the images that I had associated with Singapore prior to leaving to the city state for my vessel tour. And after 3 days, the above images did get reinforced as also did I add many many more to the Singapore compartment in my mind.

Ones first experience of a city is always the airport and that is of not much help, since all the modern airports look the same. Scores of passengers criss- crossing , duty free shops and restaurants by the dozen, queing up for immigration, getting that quizzical look from the immigration officer ,waiting for baggage and the like. Since my colleague Sara’s flight in from Karachi was an hour after mine, I had some time to look around. I could have been in Frankfurt, Paris or Copenhagen. Airports all look the same. Of course, do not include Chennai or Mumbai. Ours retain their shabby identity even now.

Armed with every possible visitors brochure/ guide – metro, restaurants, shopping, Sentosa, electronics, beaches and what not – Sara and me set out to our hostel. Sleepy Sams was located on Arab Street, a famous shopping street where the main commodities hawked are oriental, Indian and Middle Eastern fabrics. Sleepy Sams was a typical hostel. Laid back, relaxed, shared bathrooms, lots of guests and incredibly small rooms.

First stop was Little India, not because I was dying to show off my patriotism - especially to a Pakistani and make a symbolic gesture, but because the district was walking distance from my hostel and also because the famous shopping Mall – Mustafa, was located there. Little India could be called Little South India – Amman temples, flower sellers, vegetable vendors and idly- dosa joints lined up the streets. Took Sara to a South Indian temple, but soon I had to lead her out as she was asking enough and more questions about Hindu mythology and symbols , for most of which I didn’t have the answer. Shopping complexes are one place girls keep quiet and do their thing and so Mustafa was the place to go. Mustafa is a sea of electronics, clothes, bags, chocolates etc, between which humans walk through having the barest space possible. Working 24 hours, Mustafa is manned entirely by Indians, or rather entirely by Tamilians. After the trip around Little India, Mustafa, the Tamil restaurants, I was feeling like being in Chennai rather than in Singapore. No surprise, after all Tamil is an official language here.

We went to the Clarke quay side in the evening. Situated along the Singapore River, the quay side is a dazzling array of riverside restaurants, pubs, shopping complexes. One could also go for a cruise along the river. The river cruise is awesome as it gives you a clear view of many of Singapore’s landmarks. With a pre recorded commentary giving guidance one could glimpse and also get the history about the Parliament house, the theaters by the bay, the Raffles landing site, Robertson quay, the Fullerton hotel, the cluster of skyscrapers along the Marina bay and of course the most endearing symbol of Singapore – The half fish, Half Lion Merlion.

Any trip to Singapore would be incomplete without a trip to Sentosa – the island getaway. Sentosa is a tiny island situated across the bay and is perhaps Singapore’s premier tourist attraction. It claims and it indeed does have all around and fun filled entertainment for people of every age. Sun kissed beaches, one of Asia s biggest aquariums, a jungle trail, a 4D movie theatre, a plant kingdom and much more. Singapore s tallest viewing platform – the rotating Carlsberg sky tower gives a panaromic view of the island as well as gives you a glimpse of Malaysia and the Indonesian islands. The ‘Images of Singapore’ tour takes you through Singapore’s history and developments till present date. The Cable car and Sentosa Luge are attractions giving you a thrill of adventure. The most popular event in Sentosa is the evening musical fountain and laser show. 30 minutes of hi-tech wizardry, left us completely in awe. The sharp laser lights emanating out of the Merlion’s eyes and seemingly stretching out forever is a sight to behold.

Singapore much like most other modern cities has an efficient metro system. Our trips criss crossing the city were made easy by these clean, fast and on time metros. With sufficient signs, maps and routes at display, a tourist could fend for himself easily and not end up confused or lost. We spent time walking through Bugis village, Singapore’s biggest street shopping complex and also spent time checking out a few malls in Bugis.Well, while traveling with a girl and that too one with a weakness for shopping , frequent mall visits are common.

Come night and it was time to check out the Night Safari. The world’s first and perhaps only Night safari, this was one unforgettable experience. Situated at the Singapore zoo, the safari takes you on a battery operated tram through a designed route where you view animals in their natural habitat. Compared to other normal safari rides, here the thrill factor is much more magnified by the silence and the darkness through which the ride takes you. Viewing Tigers, Lions, hyenas etc in the night, in extremely close distances, in an almost eerie atmosphere is quite an experience, scary almost. On the way back we passed through the famous shopping district of orchard road. High rise malls, food courts and 5 star hotels, Orchard road is dazzling to say the least.

Singapore is a good tourist place, but perhaps only as a one time visit. It may not pull you back again and again, as i would imagine a Paris or a Switzerland would. But still Singapore was a pretty good experience. Soon it was time to pack off to the port and get into the good vessel AP Moller. We were scheduled to spend 7 and half days on the vessel and were worried as to how boring it may turn out to be compared to the razzle and dazzle of Singapore

Travel time again!!

This is travelogue season again..

As part of my company training program, have to undertake a vessel ( a ship) tour on any one of the company ships on a specified route, touching atleast three ports of call..

The route i chose ( or rather , had to pick from a few options available) was the Singapore -Kaoshiung - Busan leg of the Asia- Europe 2 service of Maersk Line. I embarked on the vessel '"AP Moller "at Singapore, took four days from SIN to Kaoshiung , a port stay of about 12 hours there and from there a further 2 and a half days to the south korean port of Busan where i diesmbarked.

Took the oppurtunity to do some sight seeing as well. 2 days in Sinapore prior to boarding, one day at busan after dismebarkation and a day and half in seoul , prior to flying back.

Here iam now at singapore's changi international airport, waiting in between flights , roaming around this huge modern complex that is changi and marvelling at its multitude of facilities and comforts for the traveller.

coming back to the trip.. that would be split into 3 blogs ..and described further in detail.... one for Singapore, one for the sailing and one for South Korea.... and all three dedicated to Sara, my most wonderful colleague from Pakistan , with whom i did the vessel tour, and without whom the tour would have been half as exciting as it was.

My new friends: the Auto drivers of Chennai …

Ask any Chennai-ite, any visitor to Chennai, any tourist, or anybody who has ever had to ride on one of the city’s auto rickshaws and they would tell you that the biggest bane of this misunderstood city are these auto rickshaws and its drivers. Their reckless driving, lack of respect for other road users and their patrons and their fleecing of the customers are as infamous as it gets.

The auto rickshaw is a typical Indian invention of the yesteryears. Small, cheap, low on quality, noisy, polluting and unattractive. An invention for the middle classes. For those people who cant yet afford a car, but who are nevertheless too proud to travel or are hard-pressed for time to travel in the congested and dirty public transport.

The vehicle itself is somewhere in the middle , it rides on three wheels, not yet there as a full fledged 4 wheeler , but presumably higher on the road chain ( a la food chain) over a two wheeler because of having one wheel extra. The auto is a vehicle that has not evolved over time. No body is proud to own an auto, no body dreams to have one parked in their house, there is no ownership value attached to it. Even though thousands patronize it, only hundreds own it and there by reduces the need to innovate and improve them. Do you ever recall seeing a new model auto on the road, except for the brief while when there was an electric powered auto? From time immemorial, these have always yellow and black, looking like an inflated bean and generally giving out the impression of a naughty imp on the road.

The chief patronage for these autos come from people who want to travel short distances quickly and cannot wait for a bus, from college girls who I think have a deep rooted allergy towards public transport, as a means of shuttle to and from the nearest railhead and also from sales personnel like me, who use them to travel to their clients place and back. For the last three months I have been using the auto to commute from office to the various clients spread across the city on a daily basis. There is an auto stand outside my office building and hence I use one of the many autos stationed there. And hence over the last few months have grown accustomed to seeing the same set of auto drivers, using their services and hence end up having a brand new set of friends.

There is one driver, a middle aged chap, for whom I am the consultant for everything in life. He claimed that his mobile phone has been tampered with and was not working and I had to check on that. Closer inspection revealed that the card had to be recharged and for which I had to dole out a 100 rupee advance, which would be adjusted on my subsequent trips in his auto. There is another guy who is a music buff. He plays the FM non stop and the ride on his auto is always a musical experience. There is little to discuss and talk with this guy, since with the din of the songs played one is not able to have a conversation.

Talking of conversations one cannot beat auto driver number 3, a well informed chap who discusses everything from politics, to the high handedness of traffic police, to my nature of work, to ironically the rash driving of two wheelers on the road. You could imagine my surprise when the other day he correctly identified a jazzy car overtaking us as a BMW. Given that there must be only a few of these on the roads in Chennai, this was phenomenal.

Once I took auto driver number 4 to a clients place outside the city limits and came back outside after a couple of hours. I simply forgot this guy and took a cab and returned back to office. 2 days later I use his service again and he politely reminded me that I had left him in the lurch 2 days back. He was far removed from the image of the aggressive, abusive auto driver.

I have noticed that these people are not as bad as they are imagined to be. Give them respect, speak to them politely and these people are as normal as you and me. They are in a thankless job, driving mostly a rented auto and having to share the collections with the owner, always being suspected of being rogue, of being cheats and pilloried about by the public and the police alike. Add to that the high fuel prices and a paralyzing traffic to negotiate, life is not easy.

But as long as these people run amok on the roads and charge a million bucks for a short distance, they would always be viewed as the villains. In the fast paced life that we are in, this crazed little three wheeler and its lords would always be seen as necessary evils

Back to Front: From Back office to being on the streets

It has been 2 months since I have taken up the sales profile. It has been 2 months since I have updated a blog.

Coincidence? No, it is pure cause and effect.

Sales in shipping is interesting/ funny/ quirky and very hectic.. Here is a low down on the 4 Ps of shipping sales as I see it.

Product:

I sell space... And no I am not talking of real estate .Selling space on a 2000 Teu (1 twenty foot long container = 1twenty foot equivalent unit = 1 teu) vessel, in the form of aluminum/ steel containers is more like it. The containers could be 20 feet or 40 feet long, sometime they go the extra mile...or rather feet and are 45 feet long. They could be refrigerated or open at the top (no, not for rainwater harvesting).They could be collapsible or could be opened out into Flat racks.

Place:

Perhaps about 95 percent of the forwarding market in Chennai is located in the Parrys/ Broadway area of the town. This area is the business district of Madras for the old world industries. The lanes where these offices are located are incredibly narrow. Everything from monster trucks to Mercedes Benz cars, from cycle rickshaws to the omni present auto rickshaws ply on these lanes. Add to that a temple, a mosque, couple of schools and innumerable numbers of small and big shops and you have the most congested streets of Chennai. The way the buildings are packed close to one another would be an urban planner’s nightmare. In spite of all this, this is the heart of the shipping industry. Business running into crores of rupees is generated daily in these narrow streets. It is on these streets that a salesman like me spends the major part of the week, calling in on various forwarders and selling space.

Price:

It’s a cut throat market. Brand works only to an extent and rates keep falling daily. What was accepted as the ‘best rate’ a week back is now the ‘tariff rate’. There are innumerable sectors across the world and inland destinations where the cargo is bound for. Rates are as fickle as the English weather and so keeping tab of them across the varied spectrum is a tough ask. The forwarders are basically brokers and so getting hold of their loyalty is very tough. A few dollars less is all it takes for you to lose biz and you won’t even realize it.

Promotion:

Well, if I was selling soaps maybe my company would have roped in a few actresses to be the brand ambassadors. Heck even male actors sell soaps nowadays. Or if we were making drinkable pesticides we could have got the top heroes to feel incredibly proud drinking them and shout from the rooftops saying so. I also could have got in the cricketers, the TV actors, the models, got a full page ad in the Times of India and get 15 second ad spot during prime time. But the question is for selling container space what kind of promotion do I do?

Would the Big B be interested to come on screen and say … “Chennai to Felixstowe... 20 footer at just 775 dollars subj to all add-ons... valid till Feb 28 06 at a transit of 18 days Make use of this never before opportunity and do those bookings” ?? Or could I get Shahrukh to dance on a maersk vessel preferably on top of a reefer container and say... “The maximum number of reefer plugs... only on Maersk “?? Don’t think so...

So I restrict myself to full page ads on shipping times, read by only the shipping community. And for such a price sensitive market, ad or no ad does not make much of a difference.

With these lopsided Ps and an unrelenting Chennai heat to boot, am out on the streets. Its fun, it is interesting and it’s a world away from the confines of a cozy, lazy back office. And am lovin it.

Bye Bye Bombay: Looking back - The food

Bombay has an amazing variety on offer to the ones who love their food. From star hotels, to specialist restaurants to road side shops, there is everything to take care of ones diverse palate. I was extremely lucky to roam around a lot with Sid and Sonal, who are people who simply love their food and who know the right places in Bombay for the right kind of food.

Here is a list of some places I have been lucky to visit.

The new years eve of 2004-2005 was spent at the Orchid in Chembur with my best friends here in Bombay and so it would be always special for me. It has a good ambience and a very good Italian cuisine on offer; 5 spices in VT is the place to be for Chinese food. Grand Central near chembur railway station has the best ‘butter chicken’ in the world- which has been disputed by my friend Ritesh, more on him later. Rice boat –of the Western express highway in Bandra gives me good Kerala food, though it’s a trifle too expensive.

Don’t look beyond Nooranis at Haji Ali for Biryani and round it off with some juice and cream at the nearby Haji Ali juice centre. Mahesh lunch home in Matunga is the place to go if you want a heavy duty Tamilian lunch. That has been my haunt whenever I had been to the Aurora movie hall nearby to catch a Tamil flick.

Having resided in the suburb of Vashi for a year and a half, I have frequented almost all the hotels there. The Centre one Mall has every kind of food under its roof, from fast foods to fat foods( McDonalds) to South Indian to Ice creams to Coffee shops.Dosa plaza at the Vashi station complex serves about 100 varieties of dosas, of which many of them are, believe it or not patented.

No mention of the food culture in Bombay is incomplete without the mention of the roadside chaat shops. These are omnipresent and do thriving business. At first glance these shops look low on hygiene and you would be justified in thinking twice before having anything from these shops. But then all of Bombay is polluted and soon you would be immunized to such stuff. So don’t think twice and go ahead and gulp down on the spicy pani puris on offer. The joy of gulping down those small spicy puris one after the other in rapid succession is just too good.

Getting back to Ritesh, I am sure that the best food that I have had in Mumbai has to be ones that he cooked. Whenever we have had a party at his house, he has simply delighted us with his offerings. Cooking is a passion for him and it shows in the variety of dishes that he makes for us. Be it a completely Indianised pasta, some innovative starters, finely cooked mutton or dessert, this guy is simply amazing. Whenever I am browsing through a PG Wodehouse novel and read Bertie Wooster describing the French cook Anatole’s out of the world cooking, I am able to relate to Bertie. Because he might well be raving about Ritesh.

Bye Bye Bombay: Looking back - The Local Trains..

The great city of Bombay (Mumbai) has been my home for the past year and a half.
In a week’s time I would be moving out of this city and going back to Madras(Chennai), my home town. Even though I am completely overjoyed at this development, I am sure I would in more ways than one miss this amazing city. This has to be the most happening, lively and exciting city in the whole country. I have never been to Delhi, have seen only parts of Bangalore and Hyderabad , and while each of these cities claim to be the most happening place, I cannot imagine any other city giving out so much of energy and spirit that Bombay exudes. True, the city has its filth, its slums, it’s never ending traffic jams, pollution, hopeless infrastructure and much more, but it also has a spirit of joy, happiness and helping one another that is so infectious. Many cities call themselves as the city that never sleeps. That description would fit Bombay more than any other Indian city. Over the next few days planning to write about a few things about Bombay that I would miss…

First up, the Local trains

When I say I would miss the trains it is the experience of being part of the lifeline of Bombay that I refer to. Madras also has a suburban rail network but they are a distant cousin to Bombay local trains which defy any sort of logic. Unlike other suburban rail networks which may have a peak hour and lean hour, a busy sector and not so busy sector, a traffic intensive direction and otherwise, the Bombay local trains are as a rule, always full, irrespective of the day, hour and direction of the train( towards town or towards suburbs).

The sight of these beasts thundering into the station with people hanging out of the doors, some of them standing on the windows and many perched on top, perilously close to the ‘touch me - you die’ electric wires is one of the most unforgettable images for me. The agility that the old, the women and the impossibly small kids display in getting into a fairly fast moving train as it swims into the platform has to be seen to be believed. The joy and satisfaction that one gets when he is able to successfully squeeze into one of these packed trains and manage to get a seat is just unmatchable.

When people talk of New York they say that if you spend some time at Times square, you get to see people from all over the world. Along the same lines, if you travel in a local train for some time, you would get to meet people from all over India. One day I counted as many as 6 different vernacular newspapers being read by fellow travelers in just one small section of my compartment. That’s people from 6 states among a sample size of say 20. Truly National.

On the flip side, there also would be verbal duels, scuffles and fistfights many a time on the train as all the trouble of getting into the train, finding a place to stand and getting down at the right station get into people’s heads. Unless you are party to the duel, such fights make the journey more interesting, providing you some good entertainment.

I was lucky to be boarding the train at the origin station ( the7:34 am Vashi to CST local is my train) and so would be able to get myself a prized place near the door and hang out of the train with one half of me inside and the other outside. You may wonder as why I don’t get myself a seat if at all the train was originating from my place; the reason is that I have to get down at the fourth station and so if at all I sit down, it would be virtually impossible for me to dodge the crowd standing inside the train / the crowd waiting to get in at the destination station and get down during the 10 seconds that the train halts. By the time the train reaches the second station it would be filled to the seams with absolutely no space to stand even. At the station where I get down, there would always be a huge mass of people waiting to board this full train. To a new observer this would look like a task tougher than any of the ones that Hercules managed in his life, but what amazes me everyday is that, these people do manage to get into this train, which chugs on unmindfully to the next station to take in another chunk of people.

These trains for me are in more ways than one a true reflection of the city. They are always crowded but accommodative, even though they are not cared for they are dependable and trustworthy - there is a train to serve you almost 24*7.They are a microcosm of the country and carry on unmindful of the abuse, dirt and filth that they are subjected to.

Next up - Eating out in Bombay...

Wankhede Woes- The travails of watching a cricket match

Though I have been an avid cricket fan all my life (being from India, one doesn’t have much choice with regards to cricket) I have never had the opportunity to watch a match live from inside the stadium. So when the Wankhede stadium in Bombay was allotted a day/night match for the India – South Africa cricket series I was all excited and decided that come what may I was going to watch this match.

Though India did win and there were lots of exciting moments, overall when you look the kinds of discomforts one has to undergo for watching the match, watching it on the idiot box looks like a better option. Here is a Wankhede Woe list.

Tickets: Of the 45000(official number) tickets up for sale, only 4500 are given for the general public. The rest 90 percent is given away to affiliated clubs, sponsors and other corporates. Have contacts, watch matches!!

Overpriced Tickets: Initially I was told the tickets would be costing 1150 rupees, and then within a day the price went to 2000. Reason was that the Madras match was washed off and so the Bombay match would be a decider. One would think this is some stock market index reflecting change. India then lost miserably at Calcutta. Then the rates came down to 1500. We must draw an index for this.

Fake tickets: Police estimated about 55000 people in the stadium against a capacity of 45000. That is a whopping ten thousand people who had got in using fake tickets. Funnily I still do not know if I had a real one or duplicate.

Hence the aisles which normally are the place where people walk up and down are full of people standing, squatting, perched on top of another, hanging in mid air and many gravity defying postures. There was no way you could walk through the aisles. If at all I go out during the first drinks break, I would be getting back in only during the next drinks break. (For the cricket illiterate, that would be about an hour)

Security: Food stuffs, water bottles, mobile phones, cameras and anything that can be used as a missile and thrown into the stadium are banned.

But everybody around me was carrying a mobile phone; a chap on the next row was clicking away to glory on his digicam, a bald plated Uncle Fester look alike was smoking away like a steam engine. Security is fool proof; one could have walked in with a hand grenade.

Plastic bottles are banned because people could throw them into the play field and disrupt proceedings. Then pray why are plastic mineral water bottles being sold inside the stadium premises?? You can’t bring your own water bottle, but can buy one from inside, because I presume, these bottles have been bewitched and so if at all you throw them they would boomerang back. Harry potter would have been proud.

Don’t bring any foodstuffs from your home; instead eat the overpriced, under nourishing, low on quality food that vendors sell on the stand. A chocobar of MRP Rs.13 was being sold at Rs 30. Talk of monopolist pricing in economics.

Seats: We were on the north stand, a decent enough part of the stadium that gives you a good view of the happenings, but the seats were pathetic. Since there are so many people you don’t get to have a comfortable sitting posture, u always twist and turn and wriggle and what not and top of it the seats are designed to encourage u keeping your feet on them and not your bums. Hey, come, have a stand...Err... Have a seat!

At the end I had, cramped legs, painful back and butt, hunger, thirst and headache. I thought I was more tired than the players on the field.

The saving graces were that India won the match, there were lots of exciting moments, the crowd was terrific and sporting and it was a good experience watching the match for the first time. If only the authorities could use some common sense, cricket watching would be an out and out pleasure.

The Blog gets a new name

I really was not doing justice to my previous Blog name - a blog a day keeps boredom away. As can be guessed the idea behind the name was to put in a posting daily, but that turned out to be next to impossible. One did not have the time, the inclination or simply there was nothing that the mind would think of that could be put to words. So the name was as big a misnomer as there could be. A blog a month was more like it..

As i was contemplating a new name ( this contemplation was going on for a long while) ,i stumbled upon this fascinating Latin Phrase " Verba Volant, Scripta Manet" - which means. Words fly away, the written( letter) remains. I found that phrase totally captivating and I immediately knew that i have got the name for my blog.

All thanks to my friend from Turkey, Burak Anadolu who has this phrase as his signature and which iam now happily using as my blogs title.

What Numbers got to do with it ???

In India, Cricket is a religion and Sachin Tendulkar is its biggest deity. For the past few years he has been plagued by injuries and bad form and people were starting to write him off. It was also no surprise that during this phase, Indian cricket also went on a downward spiral. From the high of the 2003 world cup (India –Runners up, Sachin – Man of the series, not a coincidence is it?) to a lowly rank of 7 in the International One Day international rankings last month. Sachin was completely away from the game for the last 6 months nursing a Tennis elbow and people said his days are over.

And then 2 weeks back he made his comeback to international cricket. He made 93 and 70 not out in the first two matches; India won four matches on the trot. Coincidence? Could be, but there is no denying the positive influence this guy has on the team. And of course the media has been quick to point out things along the same lines as I have written. But also I saw an interesting TV news piece about Sachin s comeback which was regarding his Jersey number and that’s what I am writing on

Sachin usually wears a number 10 jersey and this series he has been seen wearing a number 33 one. The TV report I allude to was an interview with an astrologer who it seems had advised Sachin to don the number 33. He was talking about stars, planets, lucky charms, lucky numbers and said that number 3 would sum up to healing and good luck and so 33 means double healing and double good luck. As good a cock and bull story as I have ever heard.

Sachin obviously believes in this and so is wearing it, but he knows that if he plays a bad shot he will get out, like how he got out in the fourth match. So, what irritates me is the importance given to this whole numerological mumbo jumbo. People went as far as to attribute his return to form entirely to the numerological effect. Give me a break.

He started playing 16 years ago when colored clothing was used only in Australia. By the time India started having cricket under lights and with colored clothes; he must have scored thousands of runs and become the world’s best batsman while still being about 20 years old. Numbering of the jerseys stared much later and by the time Sachin started sporting the 10 jersey (inspired by football and not by astrology) he was the best ever One Day cricket player and as Tony Greig put it ‘the closest that ever came to Bradman”. And now after 17 years, almost 25 thousand runs and about 70 centuries in International cricket, Sachin’s return to form is due to number 33. There is no substitute to hard work. Numerology, Astrology, lucky charms etc are a matter of faith and superstition that is for each individual to decide and are just emotional supports. The problem is when they are given importance much more than what they deserve and are construed as the be all and end all of things.

Wondering what he will do while playing Test match Cricket dressed in white Flannels. Maybe get out after scoring 33 runs, lucky number isn’t it?

Module 3 - Last days in Karslunde

Much like how a successful movie franchisee comes up with one sequel after the other, every six months I also come with a sequel, about the training modules that I attend in Copenhagen. I had been to the third and penultimate module in CPH from the 15th to the 30th Oct and this one much like the previous editions was a super hit and unlimited fun.

The third module is different for a few reasons. The major difference is that three exams are held in this module. This would be the last module to be held in the module centre at Karslunde (25 kms south of CPH), coz the final module is held in a different venue. By the third module, most of us know each other really well and therefore the fun and the energy is much more real.

We 4 from India (Sid, Vinay and Gauri) landed a day early than usual with an intention of studying, but used up most of the time before opening dinner; either sleeping or roaming around CPH .Anyway there was not much expectation to set the house on fire with our academic brilliance.

With the weight of the exams on everyone’s mind, we had a very somber opening dinner, there was no party at the basement (the venue for the night long parties).Next day people were up and awake and present at the restaurant at 7 am (something unheard of, since during the normal days, people sleepwalk in to the restaurant at 7.57, grab a handful of food and juice and make a dash to the classes). Exams were okay, not too difficult, not too easy and people were just waiting for the 2 days to get over before getting back to the normal module schedules – day long classes, night long parties aka networking.

The only thing I remember about the exams now are the triple ply paper on which we have to write. So after finishing writing down the answers we had to tear the three sheets and put them in the correct colored envelopes and submit them. In one the exams I was at my creative best and so ended up writing 33 pages. So imagine my plight tearing out the papers one after the other, this was more painful than writing those 33 pages.

The exams flew past us and then things were back on normal tracks. The first party night was a blast and subsequently every night some activity or the other was planned thanks to the fabulous activity manager – William. We had the usual suspects with regard to activities as in a bowling nite, karaoke nite et all but also we had jeopardy, bingo, flip cup, movie nite and much more. The best party had to be the Latino party with Ricardo and group throwing a heady cocktail of music, drinks and ambience to rock the place.

The classes were surprisingly not that interesting. Most of the subject being taught did not have any exams later, so people were not that interested and also most of them were just presentations and mostly academic. But there was no dearth of interesting people. Vincent – who calls himself (and is) the crazy Frenchman, Eyal – the Israeli with a great sense of humor, Tina – the Finn, who was the hands on module manager, Giovanni – the Italian whose long winding questions in class took 5 minutes to complete and put the teacher to sleep, and good ol Vinay from India, who was suffering from obsessive compulsive chocolate eating disorder.

During the modules huge emphasis is laid on networking, to use the 2 weeks and get to know as many people as possible. For me this was the best module on the networking aspect. People previously viewed as co inhabitants at the centre were now good friends. There was less of artificial surface talk and more of good natured banter and bonhomie. The USP of this program is undoubtedly the chance it gives to all of us to make friends with people across the world and it was heartening to see that most of us grabbed the opportunity with glee.

The closing dinner arrived and it was time to say good bye to Karlsunde, the sleepy suburb which was our home for 2 weeks once every 6 months for the last year and a half. The Karslunde food was never great; the weather has most of us in knots always, but as our coach said the people, the time spent together and the resulting memories makes this place unforgettable. Our program has one more module to go, but not at this idyllic suburb. There was a tinge of disappointment inside everybody at the fact that the Karslunde days are over. All good things have to come to an end and as a friend said, it’s better if it comes to an end when it is still good. It was good, it is over. God Bless

Next day we were back on the flight heading home to Mumbai, with loads of great memories and sad that the module was over. Now here I am in the familiar environs of the Shared service centre, penning down this and wishing I was back in Karslunde.

The views and theories of Sid.....

This blog is about my friend Sid ( the one without the blazer in the photo) and his questions /ideas/ theories / fantasies or whatever that u may call them. Much like most of us, Sid also has views on everything and has a theory on every other thing. So I decided that these theories have to be documented and saved for posterity, lest they get lost over the sands of time.

The Great Idly idea.

Idlys, for the uninitiated is a very famous south Indian breakfast. It is a much beloved and harmless little dish and always round shaped. One day as we were driving down to office, I casually mentioned to Sid about having idlys for breakfast. He suddenly had a brainwave and started questioning the fact that why idlys always have to be round. They are prepared by means of a round mould and Sid said why anybody didn’t think of making moulds in other shapes. He proposed moulds to be made in the shape of cartoon characters to make the idlys more attractive to children and unleash a marketing blitzkrieg to compete with the likes of the McDonalds and stuff. A pokemon idly and a Scooby idly could give stiff competition to Kellogg and other MNC breakfasts. This brain wave stemmed from the fact that as a child he absolutely hated the round shaped idlys and used to fling them outta the window whenever he was served them and pretend to having eaten them. If only they had ‘He- Man idlys’ or ‘Superman idlys’ during the mid- and late eighties, lot many idlys could have been saved.

The International Date Line Fantasy:

While at office and having nothing to do (that is the case mostly), Sid was looking at the time tool and seeing what was the time across the world. The International Date Line caught his fancy and he says how it would be if the line was on land instead of on the Pacific Ocean. One could have one leg either side of the line and straddle two days at the same time. Or you could jump from here to there across the line and go from yesterday to today and back to yesterday. This jumping the line is his ultimate fantasy

Marriage and its impact on a mans social life

Before marriage

Time spent on social activities (clubbing, boozing, and partying) – x
Number of relatives – y
Time spent visiting relatives - f(y)

After marriage

Number of relatives – 2y
Time spent on visiting relatives doubles
Time spent on social activities – x/2

Conclusion: Marriage impacts man’s social activities drastically

Note: other factors not taken into account since Sid’s prime purpose was to vilify relatives

Man to Man behavior in the local train and otherwise

People in Mumbai are so dependent on the local trains that their day’s time table is linked to the train they have to catch in the morning to get to work. There would be a core group of people who one would be meeting everyday on the same train. As per Sid, the camaraderie between such regular fellow travelers while inside the train is as much as the one between a cat and a rat. They view each other with hate and spite and something like a smile or a hello never crosses their lips. However if two of them meet somewhere else, they would behave like bosom pals who know each other from kinder garden. And the very next day when they meet again on the train, they never utter a word and revert back to the rat/cat mode.

The vegetable riddle:

Sid asks, why is it that the most horrible vegetables, like say ladies finger (the dreaded bindi), bitter gourd and other such unspeakables are supposed to have the best nutrition and expected to do wonders to you.

Male bonding at the bathroom

According to this theory of Sid, a man has an urge to communicate and speak / smile / talk to the person next to him while at the bathroom and going through the task of answering natures first call. He says that people whom you meet often in the office but don’t speak to, have a high chance of saying a word or two to you while you are standing next to them in the washroom. So if one wants to network and get closer to the big bosses , the bathroom is the place to be.

These are just a few of the ideas that the fertile mind of Sidharth Iyer has come up with. The more he says more posts would be added..

Of Cold Calls and Credit Cards

Was sitting at office and was staring blankly into the 17inch ‘not so blank’ screen in front of me when my state of bliss was broken by a harsh ringing of the telephone at my neighbor’s desk. I Am reminded of this poet who compared a woman’s laughter to a telephone’s ringing. I would remain a bachelor all my life if all women laugh like that.

Coming back to the telephone, my neighbor was not at his desk, and that darned piece kept screaming on. With no option left, hauled myself out of my cozy chair and took the call. The lady on the other side as expected wanted to speak to my neighbor and when I told that he is not in his seat , she said that would not be a problem and that I could help her. Thought this was some query about some Bill of lading, but soon, horrors of horrors realized that this was another of those “Are u interested in a free credit card” calls!!

Everyday there is at least one such unwanted crank call that I get. It mostly is for a credit card and on other occasions they have been for loans, additional SIM cards and the like. These calls bug me no end and there are a lot of reasons for them.

The person on the other end actually is mostly a female and in 9 out of 10 cases can’t speak proper English. They hit the vernacular highway right away and speak in such a chaste tone that u start wondering if the roadside hawkers have opted for a career change. And if they do speak EnglishIf they do speak, they try to put on a coy sort of tone and speak like some pre teen girl talking to her Barbie doll while staring at the stars.

They don’t seem to keep track of the people they call and the responses given. I am sure it’s the same female who calls me every week and so very sweetly says that I could do with another SIM card. But they don’t seem to take note that every week I give the same reply which certainly is not – call me next week – but a big NO.

They call from anywhere: I initially had thought that these people used to sit in offices and fire away. But many a time now, I ve heard in the background , among other thing, babies crying, rattling of trains, cars honking , a sound very suspiciously similar to a pressure cooker letting off steam and heavens be damned- the opening lines of the title track of a TV soap. Guess these people are temps who are given a sack load of phone numbers and asked to make cold calls whenever they want. Just meet the damned target and that’s all.

That brings up the question, from where do they get the phone numbers?? Even mobile numbers are not spared. I changed by mobile phone number many months back and had not even informed all my friends about the new number, but I get a call for a new credit card. The only source I can see having given out the number is the mobile service provider from whom I got the number in the first place. And I think even the banks with whom I deal with are also culprits. I remember giving my office landline number to my bank only and then within a week get a call for, what else, an extra credit card. But, strangely the person speaking to me was offering a rival banks loan scheme.

The only advantages of such calls are when u in the middle of a useless team meeting or in grave danger of dozing off post lunch. You could help yourself to a much needed break thanks to the squeaky voiced female on the pone offering you yet another credit

Its now 2 o clock so far the day has progressed without any such calls. Must be my lucky day.

Inspired by IQBAL

After a long time saw a movie within a day of it being released. (Not after Matrix revolutions on its worldwide release I think) .so thought of being an opinion maker this time around. But still it took me 3 days to pen this down or rather key this down.

This movie was Iqbal - and my word what a fantabulous movie this one is... amazing... perhaps the best of the year.better than Black or Sarkar.

This is one of those rare underdog movies, a genre we have almost forgotten, was Lagaan the last one?? All that we get to see nowadays are ‘factory’ assembled movies or skin flicks/ sex comedies or movies which try to show off as being 'different', but ends being so very mediocre. Amidst all this Iqbal is a genuine tale, which is realistic, natural and different without being conscious about it.

The hero is disabled, but no over the top emotions. No scenes of he being taunted, tortured, made to cry over his disability. You see him being well fed , being lazy to work , dreaming away to glory and shrieking away from the drudgery of everyday monotony, while at the same time not averse to working hard to realize his dream.. Someone u and me can relate to. That he is disabled is almost footnote.

The performances are in a league of their own. We don’t have any marquee names – (though Naseruddin Shah's name itself lends some sort of credibility to the venture) not even established character artistes but each of them have lived their role to almost perfection.

There is humor through out the movie which flows naturally out of the situation and is not forced. Thankfully the disability of the person is not exploited to create a few guffaws – how many times have we seen a deaf person being the centre of a comic interlude?

The director has taken care of very minute details as well. You see Iqbal’s sister wearing the set of clothes that is shown being presented to her by a relative a few reels back, when they are going for Ranji trophy selection. Don’t we all like to wear the latest new set of clothes when going for an important event ??

As the makers claim, this truly is a story above cricket. It’s about overcoming obstacles and disability to reach for your goals and it holds universal appeal. Nagesh Kuknoor uses cricket as a metaphor to tell the story. A truly commendable effort.

Finally, if all this is not enough to make one watch the movie, please note that there is no Amitabh Bachan in the movie. That could be reason enough to catch up on this flick, since nowadays every movie seems to cast him or use him in one way or the other.

Would have been blogs..........

It took me three months and more to complete those travel blogs about the post module trip. My blog site now looks like a travelogue more than anything else. . The fact that one doesn’t find enough time during office hours to blog is the biggest factor.

So what all did I miss out on these months , or rather what were the things that I would have written about if not for being occupied with writing about the European trip. So here are a list of events/ happenings over the past 3 months that I would have blogged on.

The reds renaissance : This has got noting to with communism , am referring to that amazing , unbelievable night in Istanbul ,when Liverpool came back from three goals down to beat AC Milan in the champions league final. All the thanks to my friend who woke me up during the second half , knowing fully well that id have hit the sack during half time ,disappointed, having seen Liverpool go three goals down. If not for her call, I would have missed witnessing history.

My birthday: Yup, I was after all cutting a birthday cake for the third (or is it second) time in my life. It was a working day and there was a small party planned at a friends place. Just a few of my colleagues, some food and drinks and that would be it. My friends had brought a cake and after ages I was cutting a cake with people singing the happy birthday song. It was perhaps the best birthday that I have had for a long long time. All due to my rocking colleagues... Thanks guys and gals ….

Badminton /football /bowling: The sports bug seems to have bitten me and my friends here. I ve started going to a club to play badminton , a friend convinced me to travel half way across Mumbai on a Sunday morning to play football and going bowling is a regular affair nowadays.

Trekking: Went trekking up the hills of Matheran (about 100 kms from Mumbai) with my colleagues. Starting the trek at about 3 in the night, we reached the top after 4 hours of tiring, back breaking walk. It was such a tiresome exercise that we were left with little energy to further roam around the hills. The early morning view of the monsoon fed sprawling hills would be a long living memory.


The Mumbai Paper Wars: For long the turf of Times of India, the Mumbai newspaper market is seeing a major shakeout. Hindustan Times launched its Mumbai edition a week back and there is DNA – Daily News and Analysis slated for release July 30, Times of India launched the Mumbai Mirror as a direct competitor to Mid-day in the tabloid market.

All the publications let loose so much advertising, that it was almost choking you. One could not travel a few metres on the road without noticing a DNA ad. DNA has flooded every railway station, road junction, flyover and what not with its posters. The teaser campaign began months back, followed by a survey, then came the bookings open phase and finally is launching this month end. HT was also all over the place, even placing an ad about its launch in TOI. HT looks better than the tabloidesque Times, Mumbai mirror is just a replica of Mid- day. Waiting for DNA to see how different it is.

And there a few topics I would not have written on which include Potter mania( I like him), the new Indian cricket coach( I don’t care), the never ending reality shows (I hate them)…..

Europe Trip: Day 8, The last leg.

After the disaster, that was the previous day, we were hoping and praying that we don’t face anymore hurdles on our way to Paris.

We had spent the night in Milan airport, we couldn’t get to sleep much, since the seats were not comfortable enough for a supine posture and also with the luggage and bags that we had, one couldn’t afford to sleep like a log. We woke up early, since we had to catch the 5.30 am shuttle bus to the Railway station, from where we had to take the 7.10 am train to Paris.

We reached the station and promptly went to the ticket counter. Our hearts sank when the lady at the counter said that the train was full and no reservations were available. It was like an action replay of the previous day. She further said that being some holiday season and the weekend all trains were full. But then she said that we could get into the train, speak to the ticket collector and try our luck. We did not have much choice, and even if the lady had not given this suggestion, this is what we would probably have done.

We got into a compartment, loitered around the door for some time and then spoke to the ticket collector. He asked us to sit on any of the free seats that we could get. We would have to pay for reservations and we could sit as long as the valid reservation holder didn’t come. We managed to find seats for all of us, albeit in different parts of the same compartment. We hadn’t slept well the previous night and were hoping that no one turns up staking a claim for the seat.

Thankfully through out the whole journey we were not troubled. Actually the reservation holders of a couple of our seats did come, but when they saw us sitting, they just went away and sat on another empty seat. In fact one person on whose seat I was sitting was seen standing by the door instead of asking me to vacate. Either he did not understand me, when I said that I would vacate the seat for him, or he is a gentleman of the first order or a total fool.

We reached Paris Gare du Nord station around 3 in the evening. We had a full evening and night ahead of us before our flight the next day morning. But after the ordeal, no one was in the mood to go out into the city again, all that we wanted to get to the airport. We had food at a Turkish restaurant – the spiciest food of the whole trip- and then got into a metro to the airport. I have to mention about the nice American couple we met in the metro. They were a delight to talk to and very very friendly, which perhaps reinforced my belief that Americans are one among the friendliest people around.

We reached the airport, got our tickets confirmed for the next day and proceeded towards the terminal where our flight would be scheduled the next day. We had another night to kill, this time in a different airport. This night also turned out to be as uncomfortable and sleepless as the previous night. We hardly slept for an hour or so and also were getting very tired. Plus we had not had a bath for 2 days now and we had another day before we could reach home and change. Not a pretty feeling I would say.

After 2 days of missed buses /trains and flights, and spending 2 nights in airports, finally on the 25th morning, we boarded our flight for Mumbai. We were hungry / tired/ sleepy / broke and dirty. The aim was to gobble up as much food as possible initially and sleep for the entire trip. But this didn’t happen. We did gobble up food, but the in-flight movies were simply too good to be missed. I watched Ray, Finding Neverland and Meet the fockers , in effect giving up some precious sleep but feeling highly satisfied having watched them.

We touched down at Mumbai around 10 pm. It was the end of a long trip .23 days including the module and the Europe trip. It was a highly satisfying and exciting experience. Something which all of us had never been through before... I consider myself immensely lucky to have visited all those beautiful cities, to have been in a company of such great friends who made the trip even more enjoyable and memorable ….

At the same time towards the end with all those troubles we were desperate to get back home. It was hot, humid and we were sweating at 11 in the night, but it was feeling good.

Europe Trip Day 7 : The race against Time.

23 April 2005

Since for most of the day we were racing against time, I am putting up this day s events in a different format. Things were not hectic in the beginning, as I said, we had to catch the 10 am train from Roma termini (which was the only train from Rome to Paris), for us to reach Paris in time to catch the flight to Mumbai the next day.

8 am: the first Shuttle bus from hostel to the Prima Porta station, we miss it, since a few of us were late to get ready and reach the gate. Set back by half an hour. Perhaps, an ominous sign of things to come.

8.30 am: Catch the shuttle bus to station. Reach Prima porta and are on our way to Rome.

9.20 am: Reach Roma Termini. About 40 minutes left for train to depart.

9.25 am: Reach reservations counter, only to find long queue which clearly would not clear in the half hour that we had.

9.45 am: Debate on whether to risk boarding the train without reservation or give the train a miss and somehow reach Milan by 4.15 pm – which is when the same train would depart to Rome, after an hour’s stoppage in Milan. Using that one hour buffer we had to some how reach Milan.

10am: The Eurostar train to Paris chugs out and we are stranded in Rome with the Option B of getting to Milan.

10.25am: Intercity express to Venice. We board it, the plan was to get down at Florence and from there get the next avail train to Milan which as per the timetable would reach at 4pm, giving us 15 minutes for the Paris train.

10.30 am: We get out of the intercity seconds before it departs since there is no place to even stand in it.

10.50 am: Board a Eurostar train to Venice, with the same plan as above, but our hopes of catching the 4.15 train are fast diminishing. This train also required reservation, but we didn’t take it, since Florence was the next station after Rome and even if they throw us out they could do that only in Florence.

11 to 12.30: The Eurostar is also full and we don’t get seats. We travel alternatively standing and sitting by the door, looking more like refugees than tourists. (The pic shows our plight , true, shubada was slightly overacting ,but that was to sum up our feelings)The Ticket collector is kind enough to understand our plight and doesn’t charge us for the non reservation travel.

12.45 pm: Alight at Florence station. We have already used up the one hour buffer and there was no hope that we would catch the 4.15 train from Milan. The next task was to somehow get to Paris by next day morning before 10 am to catch the flight.

12.45 To 1.15 pm: Roam around the vicinity of the station looking for Eurolines buses which could take us to Milan / Paris. Search ends in vain as we do not find any with convenient timings. The buses leave in the evening and won’t reach Paris in time. We also looked out for Ryan air / Easy jet options, but do not get any lead.

1.30 pm: Get back to the station and decide to take the Intercity to Milan, which would reach by 6.30 pm. The Paris flight was looking increasingly far away.

6.30 pm: Reach Milan central. The next train to Paris is at midnight, which was ruled out. We once again looked for buses / cheap airlines. We made enquiries at the station, but of no avail. Get a contact of a nearby Eurolines bus station.

7pm: Take the Milan metro train and go to the Eurolines bus stop. The bus to Paris had left at 4 pm.

7.30 pm: Reach back to Milan central. It was decision making time. The flight was as good as gone, but we still were booked on it. Have to cancel it and rebook it for the next day. And for that we need to call them.

7.30 to 7.45pm: All efforts of trying to call Air France go in vain. Only option left to us was to go to the Milan airport and hope that it had an Air France booking office. The trouble was that Milan had 2 airports, located in diametrically opposite ends of the city and we had no idea Air France served which airport.

8pm: Board the shuttle bus from Milan station to Malpensa airport. A blind and costly gamble since the trip costs a good 20 euros and if Air France did not have an office we would be wasting time and money. People were getting increasingly frustrated and nervous. Luckily no one had broken down so far.

8 to 9 pm: The bus takes what looks like an eternity to reach Malpensa. Obviously the airport is located very far away from the city and if the airport did not have the air France office we were positively screwed. We were also running low on money and a few of us had already exhausted their wallets.

9pm: reach malpensa airport, the terminal is mostly deserted. Thankfully we find an Air France office which was to close in 15 minutes time. This was the first lucky break for us the whole day, where otherwise every plan of ours had been thwarted.

9.45 pm: After weighing a few options, including insane ones like flying to Paris by paying 200 euros or taking a cab to Paris for 1100 euros, we decide to cancel our next day tickets and rebook ourselves for the Monday morning flight.

10pm: Decide to spend the night at the airport itself. We were short on money and had no clue where to get ourselves a place for the night. It didn’t seem wise to go out so late in the night and then search. There would a shuttle bus leaving next day morning to Milan station.

10.30 pm: the end of an extraordinary and physically and mentally exhausting day. What began as a normal day ended as one of the most unforgettable days of ours lives. Constantly racing against time, we were defeated time and again and ended up giving up hope of catching our flight. Here we were in Milan airport, going to spend a night, hoping that we do not miss any trains or buses the next day. We did not have a flight to catch from Milan, nor did we alight from a flight at Milan, but we were spending a night there. A strange end to a strange day.

Europe Trip - Day 6, Rome

Day 6: 22 April 2005

We had a long day ahead of us and the idea was to cover as much as possible in a day. It was impossible to cover 3000 years of history in a day, but that’s how it was to be.

Our first stop was the Colosseum, but of course. Perhaps the first image that comes to mind when the name Rome is mentioned. All of us had heard of the legend of the colosseum, about the gladiators and the bloody duels this historical place was witness to. And the many movies, books and even cartoons had furthered our interest in the colosseum. Here was a place which was a witness to a reckless sport, an inhuman barbarian game amidst the most advanced of civilizations of that era. The sight of the half destroyed monument was itself awe inspiring.

Over the years the colosseum had slowly disintegrated with restoration works being taken up only a century ago. We were listening to a guide who with her broken English was making an earnest effort to enlighten us on the history of the place. The 4 tier seating arrangements, the entry point for the gladiators, the gates through which the dead were taken away, the underground chambers all were for us to see. Surprisingly the arena, where the duels happened, was quite small in diameter. Maybe it was because we had imagined it to be real big after having seen movies like the Gladiator. The only flip side was the pot bellied 50 something urchins dressed up as gladiators and offering themselves to be photographed with for a euro or two. They were giving the legend of gladiators a bad name.

From the colosseum we walked up to the Palantine Hill, one of the 7 hills, which gives the city its epitaph. The Palantine hill overlooking the colosseum once housed the senators and other important functionaries of the Roman Empire. The Hill also gives you a panoramic view of the Roman forum which is a vast stretch of ruins dating to the golden age of the Roman Empire One could walk through it gazing at its half destroyed temples and buildings.

Unlike Paris, where we had taken the Hip hop bus, we decided to cover the city by foot. For there were monuments and churches on every street and also the best way to cover a city was by foot. From the forum we walked to the Venezia palace which towers above the surroundings. The palace was easily the most majestic of all the buildings that we had seen so far. The palace was giant in scale with even the fountain at the entrance dwarfing us by a considerable margin. This palace also houses the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

From there we walked to the pantheon, the 8th century temple (or was it a temple, I am not sure) which is famous for its special architecture. Infact my architect room mate was telling me that drawing the pantheon was something that every architecture grad would have done in college. We did not spend much time there and walked towards the famous Trevi fountain. As we were walking through the various lanes/bylanes and roads what struck us was the sheer number of historical buildings and monuments we saw in every street. That the city has a long history was well known, now we were seeing it. The trevi fountain is famous for being a ‘wishing well’. Everybody who comes there throws a coin or 2 into the small well formed at the base of the fountain and make a wish. The coins are thrown facing away from the fountain and across. Meaning, hold the coin in your right hand and throw it over your left shoulder. Now we were already on a tight budget, and no one was prepared to throw away a euro. So out went the 1 and 2 rupee coins and with it the wishes of we 6 Indians.

The next stop was the Vatican City. We were going to the Vatican just 2 days after the new Pope had been announced. We were feeling excited to be there at such a historically important phase. But our fear was that the place would be too crowded. Thankfully it was not as crowded as we thought it would be.

We got down at the St.Peters Metro station and walked towards the Vatican. We entered into the huge courtyard in front of the St.Peters Bascilica.This place had witnessed the funeral of the late Pope John Paul II only a few days back. The chairs and the arrangements made were intact, for the inaugural mass of the new Pope Benedict XVI was scheduled for the next day. The courtyard is a huge circle with a fountain in the middle. There are giant corridors along the semi circle on either side. People are routed in through this past a security check and proceed towards the Bascilica.

As we moved in near to the main entrance, there were 2 Qs formed in front of us. One of them was for the main entrance and the other was to the tomb of Pope John Paul II. Since we did not have time we had to choose between either of the 2, we chose to get into the church since the Q was smaller for that.
It was exciting to be entering into one of the holiest of shrines of Christianity, the seat of Roman Catholicism. As we entered, to our right side was the ‘Pieta’, the celebrated sculpture by Michelangelo. This stunningly graceful work shows the grieving Mother Mary cradling the dead Christ in her lap. We were captivated by the work and were amazed to see that Michelangelo completed this when he was only 23.

From there we moved further inside towards the altar, where a mass was being held. We attended it, and then later roamed inside the huge hall. There were lots of arresting statues and sculptures inside. After spending a considerable length of time inside the massive St.Peters Basilica we stepped out, did some souvenir hunting and later took the train back to our hostel.

We had a train to catch the next day, a longish one, straight from Rome to Paris, reaching Paris at around 11 in the night and the day after was the return flight to India.
But things didn’t work out as simply as we thought they would …

Europe Trip- Day 5, Venice to Rome

Day 5 was mostly spent on traveling. We had a morning train to catch from Venice to Rome. This was a Eurostar train and hence a reservation (R) was compulsory. Even though we had the Eurail passes, to get into one of these R marked trains, one has to shell a few euros more. In this case it was a substantial 12 euros per person. The train was comfortable but shockingly sparse. We were wondering why on earth we had to get reservations for such an empty train, but we didn’t have much of a choice.

Our initial plan was to visit Florence on the way to Rome, but then decided against it, since we were not sure of the train timings and we did not want to land up in Rome in a very unearthly hour. We did touch the city on the way, but all that we saw was the railway station and whatever we could see from inside the train. It was sad missing what many call one of the most beautiful cities of the world. But we were on a tight schedule and a tighter budget.

We reached Rome in the evening. The Roma Termini was a bustling and modern railway terminus. It was crowded and noisy. Felt like being in a train terminus in India. We had to choose between hauling our backpacks with us and going for a tour of the city or retire to our campsite for some rest. We decided on the latter. The camp site was located in the suburb of Prima porta and initial enquiries told us that was pretty far away. Unlike Paris, which has like 8 metro lines, Rome has only 2 and a glance at the map revealed that we had to use both of them to reach our campsite.

Before departing to the campsite, we had food at a restaurant outside the station. The waiter was a Bangladeshi. I think I have failed to mention this before but we came across Bangladeshis in both Paris and Venice. And not just once, they were present in every place we visited. Most of them were street vendors or shop owners. Since we had two people knowing Bengali in Ruchika and Kamal , we never had a problem communicating with them and in the process driving a hard bargain. We also came across Indians here and there, but mostly as tourists or office goers /students.

After having lunch we walked to the Roma Termini underground Metro station and we were in for a shock. The scene resembled a peak hour Mumbai suburban station. There was a huge crowd and the train that came in was choke a block. Also the trains were old, painted with graffiti and also small. There was no way we could get into one of them. So we had to miss a couple of trains before catching one. I never imagined that in some European city I would miss a train for being crowded, especially since I am living in Mumbai and used to getting into trains where seemingly air also can’t enter.

We changed trains at the Fluminio station and took the over ground suburban train to Prima porta. The metro train as well as this one was small in size with a pair of seats on either side of the narrow aisle. Most of the metro trains in Paris were also small. Thankfully they need not take the kind of traffic the suburban trains in Mumbai take.

We reached Prima Porta after a 30 minute ride. We had to wait for sometime for the pick up bus from the hostel. The good thing about these European hostels is that, even though they are located far away from the cities, they have pick up buses running to the nearest station. The campsite at the outset looked better and more comfortable than the Venice one. The rooms were basically trailer vans and the whole place resembled one of those trailer parks.

After freshening up, we hit the campsite restaurant and helped ourselves to some delicious pasta. We were ready to explore the eternal city the next day

Europe Trip- Day 4 , Venice

Day 4: 20 April 2005

We woke up to be greeted by a gloomy and overcast sky which threatened lots of rain. In fact it had rained the previous night as well. Not at all the kind of weather one would want while on tour. Nevertheless, we got into the shuttle bus from the campsite to the City. We brought a city map and also a day long pass which enables us to take as many trips as we want on the city’s water taxis. We got into a taxi from the Ferrovia taxi stop which is the one opposite to the railway station. Since we were not much aware of any famous landmarks in Venice, we asked a cop, and he suggested we start from St.Marco.

Sitting in the boat, one couldn’t help but get amazed again at the sight of the canals and the city built around it. Much like we have major roads and small lanes branching out of it, here you have the Canal Grande and smaller canals flowing out of them. Apart from the water taxis which are the public transport, there are private boats, gondolas and also company boats. I saw a DHL boat cruising around delivering cargo.

St Marco was 15 minutes away and was very crowded. By this time it had started to rain as well. But rain or shine, it has no effect on tourists and there were a lot many of them there. We came across a large group of Indians, who were finding it difficult to listen to their guide while at the same time dodge the rain and not get wet. We learnt that they were from Australia, all of them, and had come on a tour to Italy.

St Marco has the huge Doge’s palace, a church and also a tall tower atop which you have a viewing platform which would give a panoramic view of the city.

Doges, we learnt were the rulers of Venice for many centuries. The palace was pretty huge, it had a museum, a prison, the living rooms, and many other rooms and galleries. After having seen the Louvre, this museum did not interest us much. Also this museum had more of artifacts like pillars and sculptures rather than eye catching paintings.

We entertained hopes of getting into a gondola and going for a ride, but the cost was prohibitive. Somewhere around 50 euros for a trip, that was not affordable at all. We had to be satisfied with the water taxis.

We also had perhaps one of the funniest moments of the tour as we were waiting in the Q to get into the palace. The rain was beating down heavily and none of us had any umbrellas or raincoats. Sid and Kamal decided that the only resort was to pray to the lord. So there, under a steady drizzle, standing in a Q surrounded by many and with many more walking past, they both decided to sing a bhajan pleading to God to let sunshine in.
Heads turned, people stopped and stared while the rest of us couldn’t stop laughing. The Bhajan went on for some time. But believe me you, as we walked out of the palace after couple of hours, the rain was gone and it didn’t trouble us for the rest of the day.

Most of the buildings in Venice look pretty old, especially the ones by the canals and the city is also full of tourists all year round. Hence most of the industrial establishments and offices have moved out to the nearby town of Mestre which is linked to Venice by a highway and a rail line. Mestre is the station we touched last before entering Venice on the train from Milan. Another primarily residential location is the island of Lido, which was where we went next.

Lido is about 20 minutes from St.Marco and to reach there the boat comes out of the canals and enters the Adriatic Sea and travels in the direction opposite to the main body of the Venetian islands. We got down and immediately we were struck by the stark difference between Venice and Lido. The island was modern with beautiful houses, tree lined streets, well maintained roads, hotels and shops. The streets had Porsches, Audis and the like parked on them. This was a world away from the hustle and bustle of Venice. This I guessed was the home for the rich and famous. We learnt that the annual Venice film festival was held in Lido.

The sun had started shining by the time we reached Lido. We had lunch in one of the restaurants there and then walked to the Lido beach. It was sparse, almost empty. The gloomy weather in the morning would have put off everybody. But am sure in summer this beach would rock. We strolled around for sometime, and had perhaps the best ice cream of the tour in one of the shops in Lido. After that we took a taxi back to Venice.
We also wanted to check out another island, where as per Ruchika a famous glass factory is situated, but we were told that it would have closed down by 5 pm and hence we dropped the idea. Instead we went for a longish boat ride, a circular ride starting from Ferrovia, through all the stops and coming back to Ferrovia. We covered the outer islands, the port and the cruise dock where a couple of giant cruise ships were berthed.

We took the last shuttle bus back to the campsite. We still had a few instant food packets with us, so instead of checking out the restaurant we cooked food in our cabin.

Take away the canals and maybe Venice has got nothing much to offer. True it has churches and museums, but the uniqueness is in the canals and how the city is built around it. Venice is definitely a must see…