My first hackathon...

Jumping away from beaches and travel, just coming fresh off my first hackathon. I am no techie, but the topic was 'reducing environmental impact'.

Tons of thoughts and learnings -
* very inspiring to learn about earth hour and the momentum they've gained
*didn't expect to benefit, but really loved the thought process around app development
- the goal, what are you enabling
- the audience, or who is driving it
- of course, ease of use
* loved the format of hackathon... Tech or non tech. Why aren't we doing it more back home? Or are we doing it more and I just don't know
* once again, a refresher on interpersonal / team skills
* amazing, to think through  implementing a solution for a simple problem...
* figuring out that I probably work better when there is someone as excited to the project  as I am
* getting myself also not to give up....
* but also know, that one can be blindsided by it!

Don't know if all this makes sense, but feeling pretty good about the past 2 and a half days!

Going solo...

I've been thinking about this for the longest time and finally, the day of reckoning is here. I am in the Manila airport, 7 hours into my first solo trip for 2 weeks and a bit over. I've been nervous, excited. It hasn't fully sunk in, but its good.

I've read of a lot of people traveling by themselves on forums and blogs... But after moving to Singapore, I feel like I've met and heard of lot of people's experiences... Be it few days or weeks and months together. Some love it, and find it liberating and for many its not their thing. The only good way to find out is to try it and here I am. On that journey of discovery. And I have to say that my younger Sister's solo trip in Europe probably kicked the inertia out of me :). (Really, I still don't believe it.)

Past couple of weeks have been a rush... All self inflicted of course. Wrapping up work. Getting ready for the trip. I realised while I am usually good at being prepared ahead of time when I travel with others, I've left a lot of things until the last minute. It wasn't until 2 weeks ago that I booked my flights. Through this last week, I've been busy getting accommodation sorted. And, till 5 days ago I hadn't looked up exact visa requirements...I knew Philippines had allowed visa free entry to Indians recently, but only 14 days, it seems. Even after figuring this out, and had some time to apply for a longer visa, I decided I was going to risk convincing the visa officer ( really, how often does that work? Yes, I am likely overstaying a few days! Beat that!). And I still only have first 10days of the trip sorted.

But, figuring out as I go is just what I've always wanted to do and seems to be just the thing to do on a lazy beach vacation. And its nice how tips/ideas have come along the way while speaking of this trip to friends...things I usually miss. It was a friend who brought the storm that had hit Philippines to my attention, luckily I hear Palawan wasn't as impacted. Like the friend who told me to check on the visa me or the one who reminded me of travel insurance since I am diving (well, she actually told me a total scary story of a freak accident and made me promise I would get it in the airport. That's the other thing I learnt, u can buy travel insurance from the ATM)... And one friend has promised to keep a check on me every few days, just in case!

Anyways, no expectations and taking it as it comes. And I have a loaded kindle to keep me company, and if nothing else, home is just a flight away.

Stop and start. Again.

I have always wondered why people all of a sudden stop writing. Especially the one’s who were such regulars, seemed passionate about what they were writing and also made blogging/writing seem very effortless. After a very slow (blogging) spell myself, I am nowhere close to the answer. Life happens seems to be the reason to hide under, but it also seems to be quite a simplistic one.  Anyway,  like I said I am nowhere close to the answer and having to write it all down doesn’t seem as important as it once did.  But what I do miss is having my mind occupied in thinking through what I wanted to write about (each of my trips and experiences) rather than spending every spare minute agonizingly analyze every aspect of my life. It was cathartic to say the least. Of course, there was also one point while ALL I was thinking was what I would say in my blog...  I first saw this comic at a fellow blogger who too has dropped off the blogging universe!

Courtesy:http://xkcd.com/77/

Its going to be terribly hard to get back on to this horse (a similar lack of motivation is afflicting me even in work writing), but I’ve recognized the need to start again. So here goes. Baby steps.

The fragrance between the pages...

Just thinking of my book worm days... I miss those, but love this!

I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling.
- Carlos Ruiz Zafón)

The Luggage Headache

If there is one aspect of making a trip that I find very tedious, it's packing. Not just what to pack, but which bag to pack in. Deciding which bag is as difficult as planning the entire trip. In fact its probably more difficult. Over the years, I have collected an assortment of luggage ranging from day packs to back packs, air bags, suitcases - and every single time I have always bought a bag too small or too big or too heavy or too something other. And obviously, every single trip - I am left with the feeling that I don't have the "right" piece of luggage.

And no surprise, just as I am about to leave for a month long trip, I have been gripped by the same paranoia of "deciding the luggage". This time, the decision was further complicated as I had to buy a new bag - therefore instead of choosing between the 5 to 10 options from my collection, the choice is thrown open to 1000's of brands, sizes, shapes, materials, features and blah. Color of course is limited!

So finally, I chose a shop close by , spent couple of hours discussing at length the pros and cons and picked up a wine colored Giordano 28 inch suit case ideal for travel for longer than a fortnight. Well - happy ending right? So one would like to think. Instead, I come home - and the bag appears far too big than it is supposed to have been. I am concerned - should I have gotten one size smaller? I call my mom, crib to her for a while. I spend a sleepless night. First thing in the morning - I am on the net, looking for information - and guess what? I couldn't find anything!!! called up few colleagues, bothered my frequent flying friend. Called the shop manager, got myself an "exception" to exchange. And even after which I couldn't decide what to do - to exchange or not to. Ultimately, I decided I cannot let such a minor event ruin my peace of mind (though the cost of it isn't minor) and did the "pick a chit" test which said stay with this bag. So that's the end of the matter.

But for those who are as confused as me, I finally found this price chart - thanks to luggage online luggageonline.com and some infor from about.com. Though, I am still not entirely convinced with my purchase. :)

.
Price chart from luggageonline.com.

Anyway - what one really needs is a luggage invention which can change into different forms and sizes. And if it can gauge the owner's mind and pack itself - nothing like it.

PS: I am surprised that a lot of people actually agreed with me on this one when I thought, maybe, I was in fact spoilt for choice. I agree with girl with big eyes' sugesstion of use and return. Personally, I would prefer it if the luggage shops had items like shoes, clothes, business suits, cosmetics kits - so one can actually pack it in in the shop to get an idea. I feel that is the most difficult part of the purchase - trying to visualize what a bag can hold.

In my case, the extendible bag proved to be a good choice to fit in all my shopping. so women - definitely go for that one!!

When life was a one long summer

The description on a photo exhibit in the NY library

It’s interesting what thoughts take you, when you lie back on your oversized beanbag and have nothing better to do but let your mind wander. Today, actually for some days now, my thoughts have been running away to summers. Summers, despite all the heat and humidity, bring out the best in me. And the welcome of summer, a lightness to my life. Anyways, for some reason - the summers at this house kept coming back.

We had just moved into this new house a few months back. It was one of those regular rectangular houses, with a portico and a small garden in the front and bigger one in the back. Looking back, my father with his intention to fancy the house up, may have inadvertently removed some of the old-day charm in it. Next to our house, was another old bungalow with its colonial style intact? I loved this house. With the old red cement flooring, slightly high roofs, and two dominating columns in the veranda - it was a house I looked on from the outside and dreamt off. The walls were bordered with bougainvillea and there were lots of trees, but nothing organised. The whole house had a 'rambling' feel about it. Its occupant was an old lady, 'Shantha aunty'. She had never married and for a long time had stayed alone. The stray cats in her house were company until another friend came along.

It was summer holidays. A warm afternoon. I can’t remember how old I was, but it was my birthday. I was in this white frock with pink flowers - I loved this dress. Sadly, I don’t believe I have any photos of this one at all. I remember standing on the bench in our portico, and looking over the wall and talking to Shantha aunty -I was telling her how I had been ill the previous day. Sometimes, I’d balance myself on the Neem tree, which broke the compound wall, to talk to her - or to climb over to her house.

She would invite me and my sister to "pick" nellikai (small sized gooseberries), and we of course would end up eating more than picking. We'd spend afternoons making custard, jelly and pudding - dishes only read off till then. Once, when one of her cats had kittens, me and my sis (in one of the rare moments we were united against my parents) picked up one of the kittens, and tried to make a pet of it. I can’t remember how that one ended - but my parents most likely asked us to give it back.

I liked my house too, despite its lack of style. I loved climbing the compound walls. My room on the first floor was like my own private quarters. It made me feel all grownup to have a room. I used to keep lifting furniture from the rest of the house to 'do up' my room. The large kitchen - warm and well, large. There used to be an outhouse- cold and damp. During summer vacations, when I was steeped in famous fives and five findouters, I’d pretend it was the "secret headquarters". I in fact had a password when my cousins were around and we'd play detective. Since we had our own private terrace, we started the habit of making vadams. I also liked the balcony, partly covered by the Neem tree. On many a hot nights, we had dinners here.

We went through a whole life full here, but most of all, I remember the summers. Rather, life itself seemed like one long summer. Picking mangoes. Gardening or at least trying to (nobody in my family seems to have been gifted with green fingers). Running around the house. My grand mom and sis spending hours playing the daya kattai (ludo) or pallanguzhi (a game with shells). Me, either pouring over some book, or getting burnt in the sun cycling with my friends. Standing outside the house, and having long talks with friends. And fights with my sister. Once she was so wild, she actually got the aruval and threatened to hit me. And of course, spending time at Shantha aunty's house.

We lived there for almost 8-9 years. Even after we moved out, everytime I went by the lane, I’d look at the house or both houses and think it seemed like a dream that we had lived here. Today neither house is around. Instead, there's a huge apartment in their place. Right in your face and unreal.

I dreamt I went to Pilani

Last night I dreamt I went to Pilani again.

It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to into the campus for a long time, as the way was barred to me. And all of a sudden, with ethereal capabilities possessed in truest of dreams, I floated inside. The road appeared the same, lined with trees on either side, creamy yellow buildings housing students on one side, a huge ground with jogging track on the other. And the famous Gandhi statue on the four road cross section up ahead. The scene magically changed to another - it was a clear night, buzzing with students unlike any other night. There I was seated at the foot of the statue with my friends waiting for the bus - to take us out of this place into the real world. My last day in Pilani.

I was almost losing hope on the Pilani trip, when overnight all my travel arrangements were made. I wasn't sure what my exact role in the whole recruitment process was, but i dare not ask lest they decided i was not needed. We left Delhi around 10 o clock 5 of us in a loaded Tavera. Everyone was already dreading the 6 hour journey. I was looking forward to 6 hours of reminiscing.

I seemed to disapparate from that scene to another place and time. I was in the SUB or the students union block. The place had a charm of its own, the old rooms with slanted asbestos roof arranged along the three sides of a rectangle, facing the grounds. A tree here and there and a couple of broken benches to complete the scene.

It was a warm afternoon with strains of Bryan Adams filling the place. Sounds of excited laughter floated past. I was sitting in a corner indulged in our famous 'paper tearing'. My heart was beating just a little faster... I seemed to be just a little breathless as I lifted my head and my eyes met his. It seemed like we were playing a subliminal game, unnoticed by others. I was surrounded by people with whom i seemed to have established a bond from beyond the ages. Everyone was laughing. Some were recounting the adventures of the passed year. It was a beautiful afternoon when everything was magic.

We landed by 4.30 in the evening. We decided to go around the campus head of our presentation - so we caught 3 cycle rickshaws for the grand tour. At every corner, every bend I kept expecting a friend, an infamous couple, a rival group, a cheeky junior or just another face u noticed in the mess. It was weird.

I left them to the afternoon warmth and flitted along the roads to C'not and the park behind. In that few minutes it took me to walk, the sun seemed to have set replaced by a starry clear night. And then another image slipped in to place. We were sitting on the walls of the C'not park. It had become a routine for me and my friend, to head towards the quieter roads on evenings when time was at our disposal and when we had no things to do. We would walk around discussing the things of passionate importance - the latest department fight, the outcome of certain peoples love lives, why we disliked some one and in general the state of our lives- and then of things of lesser importance, but nevertheless as much passion like why we liked F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Today she was recounting why she liked Chandler the most for the zillionth time. And we were wondering why couples liked to claim that they were'just good friends'. Then we settled into an enigmatic silence absorbing the quiet night and starry sky that enveloped us.

I don't know if it was an attempt to connect to the past or to the present, I had tried to reach some students carrying the torch of our department still. It was there farewell night, and I became the 'special guest' for the night. It was endearing, but not the same all because the people were different. I longed for the old lot to mysteriously appear out of nowhere.

We seemed to have the knack for getting cranky at night especially after a dose of maggi. This night was no different. The three of us were coming up with reasons for why women should be allowed into the mime team. Or we were trying. Everything we said seemed extremely hilarious and all we managed was, was to keep laughing. My eys kept meeting my friend's to dissolve into pools of laughter. By now, there was of course tears streaming down. I stared at the scene of the three of us, struggling to get some words out, but lapsing back into giggles. It was one of our best brain storming sessions ever.

As I headed back to the guest house, where we were staying for the night, my colleagues came out stating that they wanted to explore the campus by night. So we walked by to sky, the huge lawns outside the museum which became a favorite hangout in our final semester, ANC or the all night canteen where we had innumerable samchats, C'not or the happening hangout street on campus. I had always enjoyed the late nights even while on college - there was something very adventurous and liberating about it.

The scene repainted itself once again. I emerged out of my room to see what was the commotion. My fiends were back from the Tamil play organized by PTM which had mocked "girls" to an extent beyond humorous. The mercury was rising in the room as every one let of their steam. I was thinking, so we are angry, and boys will be boys - what can we do. In the end, my friends sat up all night, coming up with charts voicing our protest. Before the break of dawn, they were up on all the hostel messes. And by mid day, every one we knew had see the charts and were all surprised at our reactions. The protest was famous, but no one knew who had put it up. It became one of our best kept secrets.

The next day was busy. Our initial plan had been to spend the second night in Pilani. But everyone else seemed to be in a dying hurry to return and i didn't have much of a choice. I had hoped to take some photos in the evening, but there was no time for that now. I consoled myself saying that what mattered the most was the i got a chance to return. We left for Delhi that afternoon.

We were all assembled in the guest house lawns for the farewell, discussing how 'it is still not sinking in that we are all leaving'. After we were all seated, there was a round of farewell speeches. Farewells were always nice, it gave you those exclsive minutes to run back in time and nestle in moments one most relished. Except this time, it was a farewell for my batch.

I was just starting my speech - there was so much i wanted to say. This department had in a way been the beginning and the end as this was where I had made most of my closest friends. It had been a tumultuous 4 years, nevertheless every minute enjoyable. I had just finished saying so much, and I was choking up. My eyes were blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to, but couldn't hold back. I started crying in front of a whole group for the first time in four years.

*******

The images kept coming one after the other. Sometimes it was just the feeling of the warm sun, the welcoming cold of the corridor walls, the lightness in the heart at te begining of the summer, the laziness of the evening at night, the fluttering of my heart at the begining of a new love, the feeling of being looked out for with special friends.

Sometimes, I was reliving the scene, and sometime I was an observer looking at an evening or night unfolding itself. I could feel a timelessness as I went through the four years at Pilani. It had been a world unto itself, untouched and un-intruded. And then just as suddenly, with all the cognizance possible in a dream, it struck me that, that was where I was - in a dream. I knew that I was standing on the outside looking into a time that was over. A time that was in the past....

And I knew then I could never go back.

PS: This post was in part inspired by 'Rebecca' with its famous lines 'Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again'.

A different Picture

And then, i have been travelling. In the truest sense of packing bags and going to a place and coming back. Old places- but nevertheless, a different picture.

A couple of weeks back I was in Delhi on a suit booted official trip. We were taking a few people from the US to meet some companies. As usual, the long travel was an ice breaker topic - they got started on their harrowing flight experiences, new airport rules, security procedures... And then one of them said 'You know the 100ml rule for carrying liquids? So i had to finish with the security and then buy my 6 pack mineral water bottle - plus what a pain carrying it around'. And I was stunned! This person had actually bought mineral water all the way from United States in preparation of a 3 day stay in India. I mean- didn't they think we had mineral water? What was the deal?

From there on it only got worse. Here i was thinking that these people would go all rave about India ( an impression gained from eager travellers) - and all i got was the side effectc of malaria and other injections taken in prep for this trip. The best comments - "This place no longer looks like a third world country". And "This city looks like Shanghai 15 years ago". And this comment was about Delhi after having been put up in the Taj, having lunch in Intercontinental, and cruising around some of the best parts of the city. I dreaded to even wonder about what they would have to say about Mumbai.

Their comments actually got me seeing our country from their eyes (while some of it like the mineral water bottles of course extreme and ridiculous). Maybe when people do rave about this country, its more because its like an incredible freak show they see over here. I mean, who in their sane minds would want to travel in the over crowded Mumbai trains? But that is something that is commented on in almost every travel report in a 'U won't believe it' sort of narration.

And as for all of us, I feel as if we all so bought on the 'India Story' - bought too much into it. We do have a lot of good going for us - but we are so focused on shouting out loud about our new found glory, that we have failed to notice our shortcomings - which could eventually be our undoing. Either that or we have grown complacent. Take for example Mumbai - While every non-mumbaiite acknowledges the pathetic state of this city - not a single mumbaiite will - they have grown so used to the state of the city, that there only excuse is the unmanageable population. And that's their defence for everything that's wrong in this city.

One of the other comments that also caught my attention...
"This is the outcome of being the largest democracy - it is almost impossible to implement any reform. Look at China. People dont have much of a say against the government, but every strata of the economy has grown. Minimum quality of life is much higher. At the end of the day, I don't care for democracy, when I don't have a plate of food on my table for every meal and no place to sleep."

Very true. However I'd hate to think of a dictatorship in the hands of a wrong person in this country - which is what would happen most likely, if it ever were to! While I wonder where the solution lies, I hope it doesn't become too late for our country.

All that jazz about travelling

So. I am sitting in my aunts living room, surrounded by my relatives who have just recently come from a trip to kaasi-varanasi- gaya-allahabad and I am in a state of revelation. I look around me, and see animated expressions, wild gestures. On one side my aunt is talking about the 'vaatta saatamana security, ana evaalo sehappu' or the fair complexioned, well built security men out there. Then my uncle mentions the 'malai' available or the milk which is constantly on the boil in huge urns and tastes delicious. And then about the "vibrations" of the place, and the devoutness of the saadus.

And about the triveni sangam ( the meeting point of yamuna, ganaga and saraswati) and how when they sacrificed a lock of hair at that point , it did not float away, but actually got sucked in by the hidden currents of saraswati. The yamuna apparently is black shaded while the ganges is in green. About the way the road side vendors make rotis. Apparently, these guys make a thin roti from a ball of dough just slapping in between their two hands without using the roti stick (not sure what the correct name is).

I am amazed. I mean the tales that my otherwise 'un-travle-types' relatives stunned me. They brought back more interesting stories than i probably have on mine, they have tried out their broken hindi, spoken to locals and swamiji's, found a few shastri's from tanjavur living in kaasi.

So what, if they dont call it "travel" and dont try and market their experience as an "experience of a lifetime" ( o - they actually do label it that way, but more for spiritual reasons :) ). And the thing is, I would have normally not even bothered to enquire about it except for mere courtesy maybe, and wow, i just got one of the most vivid and interesting accounts.

There was this thread on travellerspoint once about 'why travel and the jazz' and someone who mentioned that they cant understand how people are seemingly satisfied with their boring routine lives. And it seemed to me then as it does now, that maybe there is this race of people ( myself included?) who are becomming extremely snobbish about this 'travel' hobby.

I mean - isn't travelling as u see it? Shouldnt travel be more for understanding that there does exist people unlike us, but not tag them into a category? Ofcourse, there is always the difference between the passionate traveller and the casual traveller, but that doesnt make one better than the other right?

Sort of like the bunch of us who call ourselves 'cosmopolites' but turn out to be just as racist as the next man , except here the divide is between the 'cosmopolite' vs 'non-cosmopolite' as against 'north indians' vs 'south indians'...

Just a train of thought... or have I become just as judgemental of the judgemental with this post???

Armchair travel

I have been doing that for a while now, and i found that no place better than www.nytimes.com/travel to start on my journeys. The articles are interestingly written, most of the times on a particular theme. For example, this article Making a pilgrimage to the cathedrals of commerce is an entire article just about a shopping arcade (the oldest of its kind) perfectly suited for a serendipity shopper!

I love the focus, the thematic flow and and ofcourse, the lovely pics!

Also, dont miss to see the 'Why we travel' slide show. I specifically love the para gliding guy's explanation : "The paraglider becomes an extension of yourself. You envision where you want to go: up, down, left, right, to that mountain, to that river..."