Baggage.

I remember a certain non Indian relation of mine, telling me a long time ago, that Indians can never travel light. At that time I had never flown outside India, so I put on my indignant hat and argued with him for a few minutes.

A few years down the line, I flew to England to study, of course I had the biggest suitcase money could buy and needless to say I took with me essentials like a pressure cooker and many boxes of spices (did not know at this time that there everything I desire that is Indian is available readily in UK as well). My suitcase weighted close to 65 kilos, but the logic given for this excsssive baggage was the year long stay and the fact that BA was doing a student deal (did not know at this time that there would not be a return deal like this from BA and would cost me over 350 pounds for this).

Over the past decade of so, I have flown many time to many places and each time I have indeed noticed that most people of Indian (South Asian lets say) do not travel light. They will have the biggest bags, with the 'HEAVY' tags on them, and they will need to spend a long time arguing at the check-in desk over excess baggage.

Yesterday I was at Heathrow again, at a terminal which has many flights to India. The check-in process was never ending and the shop selling bags to repack excess baggage was doing good business. There was a proper 'REPACK' area and new trolleys were seen. A couple traveling back to India were with 4 large bags (this is not the norm for EU/UK - Asia flights, as opposed to the US). The man at the check-in desk sighed and hummed and hawed and pointed the brown folks to the excess baggage shop and counter.

Do we carry in the kitchen sink with us? Or are our bags full of presents for the people we so care about? Or are we the 'what-if' category of packers? What is it that makes us pack and pack and pack and weigh everything 5 times before we leave for the airport, all set to argue with the check-in desk guy. Is it financial/ economy reasons?

Going back to my non Indian relation and other non Indian friends who have traveled the planet with nothing much. How do they do this? Simple, they say, you take nothing. You reach India, you buy stuff, you use the stuff, you throw the stuff and you come back! Shaking my head I thought - they clearly dont buy handmade throws and pottery to carry back with them. They obviously dont haunt Cottage Emporium before departure and are not fans of Indian publications!

I know I dont travel light - my excuse is my obsession with all things handmade which keep traveling from UK to India and back. I fit the stereotype. Yes I know. But is the stereotype just my imagination or do we really not know how to travel light?

The Problem with Being French

Is that you speak English with a strange accent...
Is that your long features and aquiline noses make you look like a snob...
Is that you have the ability to speak through shoulder movements alone...
Shrugging can depict: yes, no, maybe, dont know, dont care, forget it...
A scrunched up nose can depict: funny, yes, no, maybe, dont know, dont care, forget it.
You do the 'bored' look effortlessly...
You might be known for the 'passion' but you dont look like you would enjoy the thought...
You look cool, but not as cool as the Italians...
You look hot, but not as hot at the Spanish...

- And that ladies and gentlemen is based on the French stereotype + observations of a few French friends and colleague over the past few years. But then...I met and saw some of this stereotyped category recently when I went to get a visa to get into France. And while I waited..I watched, not stared but watched and was amused by how much truth lay in the stereotype!

Must say, they were quick, despite the language barriers.
They were efficient despite the gallic shrugs and the nose scrunching.
They looked cool, despite the large amount of black in the room, sharp haircuts and statement making eye wear.

And now I am off..to Paris. To see the one city which I have managed to miss in my 10 years of living in Europe. The one city which I want to see, but did not want to do it alone for some strange reason (talk about stereotype). And not in the summer (have visions of wind blown walks on a rain slicked Avenue des Champs-Élysées). The paintings, the sculpture, the architecture....have read a large amount about it, have heard painting described in loving detail by my grandpa. Have studied French History at a grad level and now. Now I get to see some parts of it! whey-hey!

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Image Credit: Benh shall use it till I can get some of my own or from Marooned

The boy who knew too much

On my way back from work.
Boy - aged 5 or less, mother and older woman (suspect it to be granny)

Boy opened a large bag which contained a shoe box, he opened the shoes, shiny new black lace ones. Gave each shoe a beaming smile and put them back in.

As the train came to a stop, people got up as did this trio. And then he said something which is still making me smile. Says boy to his mother...

'Now dont you go forgetting those shoes on the seat my dear' (Said in a posh British accent)

A few people smiled and some (read me) burst out laughing.
The mother shook her head and rolled her eyes at the grandma!

Epic Journey

Nostalgia hits me as I make my way to Edinburgh after two years. There was a time when the Man used to live there and I was in Leicester. On Fridays I would carry a small backpack to work, leave it with security and at the end of the day I would dash to the train station to catch a 5.30pm train to Edinburgh Waverley and reach there by about midnight. I did this journey which takes 5-6 hours on an alternate weekend basis. The tiresomeness of the journey, which many of my friends mentioned, did not feature in my mind then, maybe I was younger..or maybe it was just L=O=V=E.

I would sit with my water,salt and vinegar Walkers, Kit Kat and a juicy book + iPod and make my way to Edinburgh, only to return in 48 hours. hmmmm. And last night I was trying to remember the route..all 395 miles of it..

Leicester - Derby - Chesterfield - Sheffield - Doncaster - York - Darlington - Durham - Newcastle - Berwick Upon Tweed and finally to Edinburgh.

Edinburgh - where the man lived. Romanticised in my head..as living high up in the mountains, surrounded by dark grey clouds, crumbling rock castles built at great heights, sea waves crashing by the Forth bridge, sharp billowing gusts of wind (non fiction - Edinburgh is like this)..and he would come, get me from the station and take me home...

I must have made this journey close to a 100 times..just to see him.
Edinburgh played the role of the perfect romantic destination. Dark, brooding, old architecture, Gothic spires, stained glass churches, narrow alleyways, steep staircases, winding cobbled streets, tall trees, dark clouds, cold weather and ofcourse..the Castle perched on top of a volcanic rock, vigilance despite the years. I do wonder if the Man had lived in some place like (dont want to insult anyone here but..) Milton Keynes or..Skegness or...Grimsby..would I have been as impressed?
Too late to ask such questions..and I am rambling here..

But yes..I am making the journey again..to Edinburgh, to see the festival, to revisit all the places I went to. And yes..I know I have been to many other lovely places in other parts of the world..but if there is one place..I would be happy to live at for the rest of my life, it would be Edinburgh. Kashmir comes close, but is not as much of a possibility as I would want it to be.

~Image courtesy jimbodownie and Alllfff

'Her' Photos...

The ship I wrote about..Sarah her name was...here are the pictures..
The first ofcourse is the colours of the flag..British. The second shows how long she is..all the way to the small tall chimney like thing in the front (and we are 1/3 away from the back end of the ship). The next one is the exhaust pipe..which is tough to show in context..lets see..the two on the side are for the generators and the big one is for the engine..lets not even start talking about carbon footprint for Sarah:) The last one is of the cranes that are used to load and unload the ships at the port.

Its a She

Output of engine - 55,980 BHP @ 94 RPM
Length - 300 mts
Fuel capacity - 6645.7 Metric Tons
Speed - 24 knots

She needed to switch off her engines and wait quietly for the Tug boats to pull her in. She needed them to help her park at the port. Her engine being too powerful to be used inside a dock.

This was a huge cargo ship I was on at Felixstowe. She had all of 12 floors. She was quite old but she was beyond my expectations. I thought Titanic, boats, ships etc..same thing. I expected some amount of movement of the ship as it rested on water. But instead I went inside and it did not rock. At all. The captain's floor which was just below the bridge (cockpit equivalent) was like a rather large apartment, complete with a bar, pots of coriander growing on the windowsills, a laptop with music playing.

I was shown maps, radars, ship paths, sea depths, routes to avoid, maps in different languages, sat nav systems, auto pilot controls, the engine room..the list went on.

I was taken aback by the sheer size of the thing. Having grown up miles away from any water body I am not familiar with ships of any sort. What struck me though was the fact that the engineers, the captain and pretty much everyone on board called it a 'She' very affectionately, but definitely a she. When questioned I was given the amused but will-not-tell-look by one and all. The captain later said its on old debate..aircrafts, ships etc..they are all female for some reason. The tug boats however..were not female..they were coming to get her, and help her park, they were strong and she needed them. hmmm.

I sat there thinking, if the ship could tell stories of its travel, it would last forever..and if 'it' was a 'she' indeed..I would love to hear them. What would it be like to be on sea, for 3-4 months at a stretch, no land, no docking, just sea, wind, sky and the sound of the massive engines!

India..here I come!

The tickets have been bought. And I am heading to Delhi once again on my annual pilgrimage to India.
To meet the loved ones, the not so loved but must-meet-its-rude-not-to ones, the adored ones, the not-so-little-anymore ones, dearest friends, relatives, in-laws, relatives of inlaws, those who came for the wedding but I did not get a chance to talk to (on account of attempts being made to be the coy, shy bride)..the list goes on.
India also means the annual emotional battery recharging that I need. The need to connect to base, or as my mother calls it, head office! I need to go back to head office, let my hair (or whats left of it) down, sleep, eat, talk, make friends with the new cocker spaniel pup in the house and of course do the inevitable shopping.

Now, this is the thing. When I first moved to UK in 2000, there were a 1000 things I did not get here which I dearly wanted..pickle, hajmola, aam papar, bombay mix chewra, masalas, cotton clothes, flat shoes. If it was not in style, it was not readily available. This is of course before I had access to Ikea and Primark! So I used to make a long list of things I wanted from India. And needless to say used to come back with overloaded suitcases! Now I live about 10 mins from an area where not only is there Indian food stuff of every kind, there are onions flown in from Bombay, thepla from Ahmedabad, Revari and Gajjak from Lucknow. Everything is available, easily and it does not cost an arm and a leg!
So when my mother asked me this morning what I want..I actually had nothing to say. Craft made bed covers and cushions, check. Rugs and Carpets, check. Bedcovers and duvet covers, check. Pressure cookers and karahi, check. Masala box with those miniscule round katoris for 6 masalas in one steel box, check. Yup..I can go on..and on..and on..and on and they are all available here. So what do I want from India?

And it works the other way round. When I used to leave from here at the start of this decade, there were requests for Body Shop body butter, Marks and Spencer clothes, comfortable high heels, Dior lipstick, chocolates and scotch whiskey. Now, all these are available more readily in India now and I dont need to lug them there anymore. Which means I am all out of gifts to buy. Ok some chocolates like Milka, Maltesers etc I have not seen in India yet. I have also not seen chocolates and biscuits for people with diabetes. I do not know about Laphroaig whisky or Glenmorangie..both of which are made in Scotland...so yes I shall carry my pack of chocolates and whiskey.

I always get caught up in last minute gift thinking. And then I also load myself at the airport. And once I am home, I unpack and hand out gifts, eat what I had ordered 48 hours ago and promptly go to sleep. That is just the way it has been for the past 7-8 years.

And so it begins..yet another trip to India. I have lost count of how many times I have been home in the past 8 years..3-4 times a year sometimes, sometimes less..enough to collect air miles and fly free to India..yes. I know I should get over the excitement which is borne not only out of travel..but the chance to be home. The last time I was home it was exactly a year ago..to get married..and that was good..but not what I would call fun. Had it been someone else's wedding I would have deployed that word. However I did not get the chance to relax and catch up with everyone. Now I shall make up for that.

Long distance travel + Heathrow Airport = Mental tiredness at the very thought.
Home + Mom + Dad + Siblings + Mad dog = Happy hand rubbing in glee thought, I am more than willing to fly 8hr 45min to Delhi..:) in a week then..I shall be there.

Joy at Heathrow

This is the one part of London I dont exactly love. A badly managed, badly planned airport. One of the busiest in the world and there is no where to sit.
Had to stand for 3 hours and wait for someone to turn up. Immigration is short staffed, baggage halls are over loaded and too many flights land at the same time. There are few meeting points and the joy of meeting a loved one is slightly clouded over by a big FAT CAT boot landing on your toes.

A well meaning cabbie recommended travelling via Birmingham, even if it meant flying to Amritsar first!! :D avoid heathrow say people. They have lost many bags, have security alerts by the tonne and all queues take atleast 3 hours to clear, whether you are coming or going. Sad it is!