When a work trip starts to kill

‘You no bored?’ she laughs as she keys in my order for 1 veggie delight. I try to laugh away telling her I am vegetarian- although, I am sure she was referring to the fact that I’ve nearly been having subs for dinner and lunch every day for the last 2-odd weeks. I have a sneaking suspicion that the 2 women at Toast Box have been sniggering for the exact same reason. Every day it has been the same order – coffee, thick toast, to go.

Ah yes. That is how I was also speaking at shops and restaurants. Why need connectors like ‘and’,‘is’ when you can convey the meaning with just the important words. It is funny how you unconsciously changes your accent in a new place to be better understood. Sometimes, you change to broken English too. Like, after one month of eating at Denny’s in the US, I was all into thannnk you’s from my nose.

3 weeks in Singapore once again – but buried in work, and smothered in stress this time. I don’t think I have found myself in as much stress before. The second Sunday in office, I found myself crying in the ladies room - I was having my first panic attack imagining a life full of sundays at work. One part of my brain said, I should be working and that way I'll get the hell out faster. But the other part just refused to contemplate the thought of work. In the end I just left and slept through the panic.

I had no energy to call up friends. No energy for a meal in a restaurant. And yes, I came to the point I was too tired to shop! That, is the bottom of bottoms I hit. And so, I think I have finally arrived at that point where work trips may no longer be thought of as fun and a welcome change!

Highlights of the trip – yes, there were some at least –

In my first week, we had a team party held on a yacht in Sentosa. The weather was great, wine was flowing and we were after all in a place reserved for the rich and beautiful. Although, like any office party, I - the lowly associate – hardly had much to say compared with the high-flying and fabulous experiences of the big guns. So it was more an evening of smiles and head nodding, but fun anyway.

A day trip to Manila – a mix up of bit of the chaos of India, a bit of Mexico with old tin tiled houses and the Spanish names, and bit of posh tall rise buildings of Singapore and Hong Kong. I tried some ‘orginal’ Philippines food – a dish of glass noodles – and I have to say I don’t care for it! One day was hardly enough to understand the city, but the hope is for another trip. Hopefully to explore the country’s beaches and mountains away from Manila. And hopefully, when there are no typhoons.

And, there was fantastic book sale close to work and I found some very interesting travel titles – I had been considering picking up one of them at borders for 30 dollars, and I ended up getting it for 6 dollars in the sale. Also, a book on the next country on my list... it will be revealed when it happens!

On my last day, I woke up at 11 at night, made a dash for ‘Spices of India’ in hotel Rendezvous. Yes, they were still serving dinner, and the guy actually remembered me! One order of half portion peas pilaf, mushroom curry and raita please.

PS: Anyways, I am back after a long time. The hope is to get back to my routine of visiting blogs, travel planning and hopefully blogging.

My very own Do Up My House story

This story has a happy ending. Oh well, a happy beginning too. :)

My new place.

I was almost despairing when one of the places that I had somewhat liked (didn’t like the owner, I admit) and was in the process of finalizing fell through. Despairing also because by then, I knew the design, type, pros and cons of flats in every building in the area and hadn’t found anything that would suit. Making a big move like moving out alone, you don’t want to settle for anything less than a house that screams ‘Come and Get Me’!!!

I was indulging in honest I Hate the World and Why do I Always Get the Raw End of the Deal, depression and self-pity, when this place came up. I was sure it wouldn’t fit in my budget, but what the hell, it would expand my real estate knowledge and so I went to take a look at it. It was an apartment on the 13th floor, with space like a football field (well, for a one bedroom place anyway!), french windows on all rooms and BALCONIES!!! What clinched the deal was that the balconies and windows DID NOT overlook another flat. What more could one ask for in Bombay??? And yes, it does help to be living in a banished suburb.

The living room

I moved in a few weeks back and I have to say it’s been great. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was in the middle of my Do Up Your House story. He He, nothing extravagant like restoring a villa in Tuscany or in Morocco. But MY scaled down version of it. Matching curtains and cushion covers and drapes, getting the right TV table, lamp shades – such complex decisions and such fun!

Distant buildings that light up at night

From a more day to day standpoint, I like that I have become more disciplined. True, I could have been that in my old place, but at some point I had lost the will to care. Now I have no choice but to care and make time for more mundane stuff like running errands, organizing the house, or to get an odd job fixed. OK, that doesn’t sound fun, but trust me, it is.

Sometimes, I almost feel like The Heroine in the Book of My Life, like there is a narration which makes the most banal of activities very soulful and insightful - ‘It was a lazy Saturday morning and she woke up to the sun streaming from behind tall far away high rises through her window. The image of a hotcup of chai drew her out and she walked to the balcony, feeling the cold early morning chill as she sipped a cup, lost in her thoughts...”. He He, I’ll stop here!!!

Anyway, there is no single verdict on living alone. But it’s an experience worth trying!My only tip, get a place u see yourself in. This was a big step for me last year, and I am more than thankful it came together. I may tired of living alone soon enough, but until then...

The view from my bedroom!

The view I wake up to

The horizon, dry cracked earth and us - Rann of Kutch

We stared into the vast expanse of land in front of our eyes. Dry, cracked - cracked as if an earthquake tremor had left its marks behind, spreading out as far as we could see, meeting the blue and slightly pink skies at the very end. The landscape at the start was broken by a few shrubs here and there, and then by the salt pans. At this point, there was nothing else but us, the faint outline of a faraway hillock and the horizon in front of us. The sun had beaten down upon us strongly through the day, and the air was laden with the dust from the earth. This was Rann of Kutch.

The Rann of Kutch - trying to capture the vastness of it!

Calling it beautiful wouldn’t be right. The Rann doesn’t match the stark and harsh beauty of the deserts of Ladakh or the soft undulating curves that one imagines a picture perfect desert. But there was something about being in this dry, near barren, expansive, and literally ‘no-man’ land.

A friend reminded me of the story, 'Love Across the Salt Desert'. How could i have forgotten the love story set in the heart of this place. The author describes it beautifully... The monsoons had, so to speak, forgotten to land. The Rann lay like a paralysed monster, its back covered with scab and scar-tissue and dried blister-skin. The earth had cracked and it looked as if chunks of it had been baked in a kiln and then embedded in the soil-crust. Then one day the clouds rolled in like wineskins and the lightning crackled and the wineskins burst. Though two years have passed since the drought ended, everyone remembers that it first rained on the day when Fatimah entered the village. This is how she came...

The Rann in perspective

During monsoons, the Rann of Kutch is flooded with water, being at a very low-height to the sea. The Rann becomes accessible only in the drier seasons, and even then may be not entirely. The jeeps that venture inside could easily get stuck, as the dry top level hides beneath it soft and mushy clayey soil layers. There are no well defined roads or trails. Yes, there were jeep tracks from visits before us, but how our driver found his way through and how the other locals find their way to the salt pans was beyond our grasp. The desert is also broken by several salt pans were locals make salt from the ground. Coming back after watching the sunset, I kept asking our driver if he could find his way back.

Getting directions from a local chakkada

The quintessential dirt driving jeef safari picture

Our visit was actually to the part of the desert known as the lesser Rann, which lays a little interior to the area called as the Rann. The Lesser Rann is home to the ‘Wild Ass’ also called Khar (ye ye, I see you laughing, and btw did you know that Jack Ass is also a variety?), the Nilgai Antelope and Chinkara deers. On our safari on the first evening we saw glorious herd of both the wild ass and Nilgai. We didn’t realize how nice our sightings were until the next day, when for quite a long time we saw only loners or pairs. The Rann is also famous for migrating flamingos, visitors from Siberia.

A herd of Nilgai antelopes

A herd of Wild Ass

Cranes taking flight

My 3 travel secrets

There has been a travel tag going around and I have been tagged by Cate and Neha for it. The tripbase Blog Tag is to share my 3 travel secrets. Here they come!

The Armenian Church, Singapore-
It was a hot day. I was walking around the so called ‘civic district’, using a tripod to take photos of myself, (and yes, to timer pose is funny!). My friend had mentioned a big church in the center of Singapore, and I thought this one was it. It is a white building, and could easily have been a bungalow. The main room was circular broken by long rectangular windows with wooden shutters, revealing the hot day outside. A ceiling fan whirred slowly. A painting of Jesus was the only thing indicating that this indeed was a church. It was a place more for peace, silence and introspection if you will. A place one could contend time in…

Inside the Armenian church

The Armenian church

A secluded beach in Hvar-
Mustacho is a restaurant and a beach along Hvar’s coastline. It is less of a secret really, but is less frequented because it’s farther away from the Hvar town and people (tourists) are too lazy to walk up to this one. We decided to go in search of it on our first evening. The walk to the beach was very beautiful, as the houses thin away leaving behind the trees and natural greenery of the island. The first sight of the restaurant (at night) was a blaze of lights amidst a crescent of dark waters. We were its only dinner guests and it was gorgeous to sit by the open sea, hear the sound of the waves and dig into our food. The walk back was even better, as we stumbled our way through the dark, with nothing but the stars for some light.

The temptation in Hvar is to jump to the famous islands of Bol and Brac. But if you keep your eyes open, you will see smaller signs for not so popular beaches. I can't speak for all of them, but our gamble on one proved to be the best!

Another secluded beach in Hvar as I don't have photos of Mustacho

Lost in the smaller villages of Sikkim
Kewzing in Sikkim is just another small hill town. But go beyond the market area, and you’ll find that some locals have thrown their homes open to travellers to give u a taste of their lives. The homestay in Kewzing was the highlight of our trip to Sikkim a few years back. We went on hikes, sat amidst hidden stupa ruins, watched Mt.Narsingh as we sipped morning tea, ate wholesome healthy meals, sang in front of bon fires.

The house we stayed in, Kewzing

These homestays are a means for these villages to generate income to support themselves, but are still not mainstream tourists stop, making it an ideal off the beaten track stop. There are homestays in the area of Dzongu also in Sikkim.

Please dont forget to see Cate's 3 travel secrets and Neha's 3 travel secrets. Thank you guys for tagging me!

Terezin – still haunted by its past

The bus rolled to a sudden halt, and we woke up with a start to realize we had arrived. We,and nearly the entire populace in the bus tumbled out sleepily. And there we stood, a bunch of tourists, trying to get our bearings with only the zoom of the receding bus breaking the absolute stillness of the town. We were in Terezin.

The town of Terezin

Terezin has a fortress that was built originally by the Hapsburgs of Austria. The same fortress came in handy once again during Nazi rule, this time to house a Jewish Ghetto. Over time, the original residents of the town were asked to leave to make way for a prison city. The museum today recreates the sad state in which Jews were forced to conduct life. Somehow, they still managed to have some hope during their time here. Terezin was not a death camp like other concentration camps, burdened with stories of torture. But the sadness of years of human spirit that was broken, piece by piece, till none remained, is undeniable.

“A little garden,
Fragrant and full of roses,
The path is narrow,
As a little boy walks along it.
A little boy, a sweet boy,
Like that growing blossom,
When the blossom comes to bloom,
The little boy will be no more”
~ written by a young boy who lived in Terezin

Gravestones

In memory

Terezin today is peaceful and laid back, once you get used to the stillness and state of abandonment. We in fact had one of our best lunches sitting at a roadside cafe in hotel Memorial. We saw people swimming by the river, and bikers in beer joints just outside the fortress. The green memorial sites make for a nice walk, a place to sit and even a picturesque place for a photo. It is easy to banish the image of the town. the way it was. But the words of the prisoners, their hopes, their sadness, still hang around and that still get to you, years later.

Inside the Little Fortress used to jail prisoners of war

PS: I found these very moving accounts...
To holocaust deniers, come to Buchenwald
To those who never got a chance to die where they were supposed to