Showing posts with label travel-hyd-blr-pdy-2012-05. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel-hyd-blr-pdy-2012-05. Show all posts

Friday, June 15, 2012

Don't You Food Me

the author feigning to eat a
clam in its entirety
Food features primarily on our itinerary for the next couple of days. There's this French place, this Italian place, this south Indian place, this Vietnamese place, this bakery, this cafe, this soup place, this lobster place, this fish place... First inquiry the PP makes upon waking up - in his first conscious moments into the day - being, "Where are we going for lunch?"

It feels like I've been held hostage to a bunch of bandits armed with an arsenal of food. Food is social, but alas, its turning into social torture for me. I'm picking calories in excess, which is not even compensated with any sort of outdoors or (mis)adventure. If that is nothing to bother about (really, I don't), my stomach has been nuked with multicultural cuisine - under the umbrella of south Indian food, that has included a lot more than the limited southie fare that one gets in North India, I have already been subjected to considerable strain. Knowing that I will be invaded by myriad international cuisines in the narrow space of two days only makes it a bigger affair to fear and lament later.

To mitigate some of that 'bubbling' fear, I started this day with a more familiar toast, peanut butter, marmalade; not that it makes my situation any better, since my fiber intake is still zero.

There is also the unfamiliar experience of "trying out" the freakishly expensive places, which is basically turning into places to damage the stomach lining at a premium cost, which is no good news for either my health or my pocket. the only worthwhile place was the one we visited last night with an equal split between the items I had liked and that I didn't. a thorough "Oye, solid thaa, yaar" experience seems impossible.
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Thursday, June 07, 2012

First Time in 'chery

Food-wise, our excursion following our arrival was a drub. We all decided to walk to this south Indian place nearby that turned out to be closed for lunch, and ended up walking thrice the distance in the sun, to a resto memorable for two things - its overall unmemorable food, and a south aunty with the restless legs syndrome that made her white-and-purple sari dance about obscenely around the crotch, just about the time the S was briefing us on the avoidable female temptation in this region (oh so true).

Then we left for a more upmarket cafe next door, which proved tolerable for the French open they had on tele - gasquet v zopp, which the G ultimately won 6-3 6-4 7-6 - that had me seated away from rest of the group sipping my chilled coffee glued to the tele, eavesdropping into conversation between an Indian couple and a Australian(?) guy; must add that the coffee was sad... I guess the S was introducing us to 'cherry with some transitional phase in his plans.

Then to supermarket further ahead to get Allout, one where I also zoned in on the stuff I'm to carry back to my northern plains... Red rice, finally, FTW.
We walked to the Promenade (about which I have compiled my thoughts separately) on or way back. Lot of colonial architecture to admire enroute. One guy even wished me "good evening" in gentle courtesy, not expecting any sort of money, totally unlike dilli-walas.

The S went into a rant on the challenged aesthetic sense of us  Indians, a topic which was to later see more elaborate discourse and fuming debating all through the night.

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Stupid Promenade in 'chery

The Promenade, the mile long stretch of ocean-front in Pondicherry (now Puduchery) is impressive, but what it tries to highlight itself is a timid experience. I was captivated seeing the expanse of the ocean, and even went down the rocks to have wave after wave crash on me to leave me in a state of increased salinity, but the excitement soon veered away. That there is no coastline here might be the primary contributing factor to this lukewarm connect. Was told that the construction of the new pier - now a dilapidated and a disturbing non-feature itself - had accidentally submerged the beach that once was the icing on the cake of this nostalgic French colony; kudos to the planners for submerging history and and an inclusion of this place into the annals of eternity.

We revisited the Promenade at night, when out for dinner, and walked the entire length of it. The bland ocean looks worse at this time. Gentle tidal waves crash noiselessly into the scarred rocky shore. No air of celebration, or worth celebrating (the PP was soaked in sweat by the end our walk).
No fun to derive from, here, if you look to the nature for it. Nature just coldly, hazily states back at you. Families all around trying to make it fun whatever way they could - fathers chasing daughters in figure of eight, children rubbing their bottoms sore sliding down the cement archways radiating out from Gandhi statue, playing dumb charades, eating make believe French cuisine at eateries, and other nonsense that had no relation to the ocean that lay just next.

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Pie in the Sky

On pie in the sky. Its no codeword, but just the wifi ssid here at the home of the S in 'chery.
After a drinks session with the zen cyclist the previous night, with a death to prematurely end it all in wee hours of the morn, and a late start for this place with a lingering hangover, it took us 8 hours on the road to get here. It was enerally good weather throughout. The lush, sea-feed surroundings of Karnataka, remind of the movie  Congo.

Had entered 'chery by 2 and spent a few minutes in confusion over locating the S house, which saw us circle the same complex of Rue de Francois Martin thrice, before learning that "rue" means street in French. This street is in  the posh French part, the "white" zone along the beach, and is an encouragement to the pedestrian who needs not be bothered about much traffic.

By the time I and the A unloaded our stuff, the Enfields reached too after their more demanding character of driving needing breaks for refreshments (and smoke). Me and the S got into a wrestle over my intention of trying his   vffs which made for an unorthodox welcome, S was slapped with his own shoe for the next five minutes. Glad to be in the company of his Mac here as each of us take turns to keep ourselves updated on the online front. Not long after I'd entered, found myself gawking at 100 years old furniture - old bookcases, study tables, almirahs, etc; I can see where the S gets his aesthetic inspiration from.

We all grab a beer - a sea of Tuborg so caringly stacked in the fridge - to mark our arrival. Soon me and the S are chugging down our fourth.

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Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Finally heading back

"Chalo, shukar hai, iss baar to hua" is the general phrase used in my geography, when something reasonably simple has been unreasonably out of reach. Sadly I, too, have been affected by this reason of unreason - thanks to our rail booking system, I had been held captive in Hyd since the past few days. That I now sit with a confirmed ticket to Delhi in hand makes the general phrase a personal one. It has been a relief for twofold reasons: I screwed up in the first place, and got away cheap ("should a single mistake cost this much," I kept asking myself until this day); I held on stubbornly to my love for train travel, and got what I wanted without making this a total farce (note: "total").

I will return back with a feeling of having lost three days in Delhi. But I could take it as having ffffound three days of curtained seclusion in this unfamiliar land.
More to follow up soon.

PS: even though irctc site makes for a subject of poison and ridicule, the recent changes of blocking multiple logins (enter Captain Obvious) is FTW
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Tuesday, May 29, 2012

The chase

They make a run for their lives. After patiently watching the cat and mouse chase that seemed to be on the losing side for our cat, a well built young andhra guy who sadly found himself at the receiving end of some drunken foolery when a couple of youth smashed his car windscreen with their bottle of poison but who courageously decided to teach them a lesson (with a big L), I decide to give chase just for the kicks. I've never been in a chase before.without populating my head with any fears - like the unknown terrain of the unlit deserted dirt track ahead in this unknown town (quick fact: it had been under 24 hours of me in this city of hyderabad), or the sandals I was to be running in, or that I had no idea about what these two miscreants could turn out to be, or if they were carrying any weapons to surprise moi - my engine of legs powered by the fuel from my lungs picked steam, making ugly clapping noises on the track, thanks to the sandals. In the space of next few seconds I passed the great bulk of Parth, then our cat who despite the looks, build, and aggression of the usual hero had failed to take those miraculous 10ft strides to catch up with the bad guys and had now been trying to compensate for his speed by the tactic of screaming "chor... pakdo... chor...", one that was futile on this deserted stretch, then I crossed a guard peering from his guest house gates startled awake from his sleep by the commotion, then finally the prized head of my target - guy 2.

Guy 2 was a fool to not stop at my warnings. He had it coming. We both were at a challenge while our feet pumped out 100 kmph. My first attempt was blocked out, and I saw my phone with the flashlight on hit the ground. Still running, I took him down with my second challenge. Being drunk one can't act to smart but neither have the capacity to realize that. I threw him against the wall, he ended up on the ground. I simply held him pinned to the ground, violence isn't my forte. As soon as our cat made it there, we swapped possession of #2 and I ran for #1, against a background score of Andhra cussing and thuds and punches. Second guy had taken left from the crossroads another 80m ahead and disappeared. easiest guess was that he entered this vacant plot. I directed the policeman (cyberabad police) to this detail. Soon he walked out with guy #1 who had merely taken refuge behind an outhouse in the shrubs. The police van had been wise to have been coming from the opposite dir.

With the job done and the fun over, I walked back to our car to find the A eagerly waiting. "a jolly good show, my good sir," I exclaimed.

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Journeying

Second long day on the road in three. But in contrast to the day before, today was a challenge and a discovery. Been through the states, and I must say, down south its a lot more fun to travel by the road. The major highways invite superlatives, and the lesser ones are bad but not as bad. Weather made it seem nowhere close to the middle of summer that we had imagined. It was almost a near death call seeing the A asleep on the wheel and slowly veering of the road, but to luck he didn't, and to luck there was nothing incoming. Down south its funny - the signs keep you puzzled and then you feel a relief that you don't need to bother with every village's affair; the people don't get you but you soon learn to get only the relevant specifics; the scenes across these parts are a varied as the language they speak. I only wonder why the cows remain an ever constant when the people aren't.


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