Christmas 2005

Five falls in five hours, while ice skating at Bryant Park;
Five falls in five hours, while skiing at Hunter Mountain;
All in all, a Christmas spent "winter-sporting" in NY!

Merry Christmas All!!

Award

Ferry Terminal (the glass structure in the foreground)

Its time I put it here.
My first award – winning project ever, (one that I've worked on, albeit for a while) was awarded the AIA (American Institute of Architects) Architecture Merit Award, the NY Construction News Award and today it's in the NY Times.
The glory is shared by all those who worked on that project.
To………Our individual two minutes of fame!!!
Cheers!!! 

Wine.

"I like to think about the life of wine.
How it's a living thing.
I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained.
I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it's an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now.
I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I'd opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it's constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks, like your '61.
And then it begins its steady, inevitable decline."
- Maya in the movie 'Sideways'

A quote that's refusing to leave my head!

Love letter

Sept 22nd 2004 was the last time I was with you.
Its the longest I've been away from you...One year!
And with each passing day it only gets longer.
I cannot cut myself off from you. You were my first and you could possibly be my last.
Its a long-distance love affair, and a passionate one, may I add, that we have, you and I. We live in each others hearts, minds and thoughts. Nostalgically, we reflect upon our times together and miss them. Often I wonder how you would have changed and you wonder how I would've grown? What must life bring to us now, each day as we pass living it?
We both have moved on, but our lives are still connected, a huge part of my life with a small part of yours. Not a day passes me by, when I don’t think of you and when somewhere inside you, there isn’t a thought of me that prevails.
You were with whom all my first’s happened; childhood spent, innocence lost, and youth commenced,
You were the first, whom I grew to love and who loved me right back,
You nurtured me, watched me grow, touched my life and put me on this threshold, only to watch me fly away from you, to further seas and future loves,
You were and still are, my friend, confidante, benefactor,
my foundation, lover, and partner in crime,
My first urban love, that taught me to love, understand, appreciate, assimilate, analyse and grow with other cities,
You were and will always remain, my childhood sweetheart,
My Mumbai!

Until we meet again, be well and take care!

"The Rising"

Mangala Mangala Mangala Mangala Mangala Mangala Ho!
The song stays with you long after the movie ends.
A unanimous standing ovation at the end of the movie, in the theatre hall, speaks for it's after-effects!
One of the finest story-telling endeavours in recent times; not necessarily as much towards good film-making, but more towards bringing back history and celebrating India's first independence hero. It's jolting yet true instances and issues addressed from pre-independence India of the 1800's, bring back to celluloid the stark revelation of one-man's determination, grit and patriotism. Of course it also brings forth how much we, born in independent India, take our freedom for granted.
Never the less, a must watch and a good start to an impending trilogy of India's rising!!
On a parallel note, I am currently reading M.K Gandhi's autobiography: "The story of my experiments with truth". My Gandhi quest; of trying to fathom into Gandhiji's personality and figuring out our common/ uncommon traits (We were born on the same date) started off with watching Richard Attenborough's "Gandhi". I strongly believe that people born on the same day, have to have something in common.
The two antipodal perspectives of both these heroes of the 18th century; Mangal Pandey and Gandhiji, aspiring towards the same goal of a free India, albeit with a few decades in between, form interesting cases for analysis.
The former- a violent rebel, the latter- a symbol of peace!
The former- a Hindu brahmin, the latter- a Bania Vaishnav!
The former- a celibate, the latter- a self-proclaimed lust-seeker (at first)!
The former-a soldier, the latter- a lawyer!
The former- India's first independence hero, the latter- India's last!
The former- a hardly celebrated martyr, the latter-India's most celebrated one!
The former- responsible for an army's rising, the latter- for that of the nation's!
Both- Hero's in their own might!

Happy Independence Day, India!

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I was very intrigued to see this comment on my last post.

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Three months...

Three months is a long time...
Three months is a short time...
You can never have too much of being spoilt, taken care of or fed with delicious home-made food!
You can never have too much of travel, too much of love or too much of your parents.
You can only have too little of them, when you live seven seas away!

Here's to the three most splendid months of my life;
to three dreams that came true!
It's the end of a phase!

Just because...

Just because...
we believe in public transport,
Just because...
we refuse to drive our cars to work,
Just because...
we take the pains to wait for trains and buses,
Just because...
of our common modes of transport, we are easy targets?

It doesnt matter to us, we are back although a bit shaken,
Just because... We are the public commuters of the world!
And our everyday journeys', are our lives' biggest lessons!

- For my three urban favourites; Bombay, London, New York!

For free!

The New York Philharmonic had its second annual free concert at the Great Lawn in Central Park yesterday. As is second nature to New Yorkers, thousands flocked together for what seemed like a mass picnic. That it was a Tuesday and one of the hottest and most humid nights so far this summer, did'nt seem to matter, gauging by the 47,000 odd people on the lawn.
The young, the elderly, the gay, the straight, the animal-lover, the tourist, the local resident and many such, sat around us, right in the middle of Manhattan. Some brought their pets, others brought candles; most brought wine, cheese and champagne; all brought bedsheets to sprawl out on.
Accompaniments to the symphony of Dvorak were; the almost full moon, with yellow streaks, shining right on our faces; the glittering specks of the midtown skyline peering over the thick green deciduous foliage of the park; the swaying balloons and pom-poms hanging high over people's heads; the stark silence amidst the large crowd when the musicians played and the thundering applause after each symphony. Various elements, some natural, some man-made, worked synchronously to produce a night of delight, topped with fireworks at the end of the show.
A personal moment of bliss: lying with my head on mom's lap, in the middle of the park, in the middle of one of my favourite cities, gazing away at the moon, with live music in the background!
Some of the best things in life, most certainly come for free!

London

Another love,
another series of blasts,
another heart-ache!

Island-ified!

For the first time ever, in life, I lost my phone. And now I am an island!
One event, multiple losses.
150+ phone numbers in an invaluable phone book, the much-valued-post-loss and used-to handset that I took so much for granted, the 20 mile detour on the NJTP in the hope that I would find it where I left it, the uneasy 5 hours in-between and the much getting-used-to with my new phone.
Too much trouble, on account of one small mistake.
Maybe I am being too hard on myself, but I guess the logic is simple: Either don't depend on something so much or just dont lose something you depend so much on.
The one good thing that did come out of this episode, apart from the lesson it taught me, was that I got back in touch with random people from my life, who so far were reduced to numbers in my phone book.
All's well that ends well I guess. My new phone is'nt as sleek as the old one, but it's serving to connect me to my world, all the same! It's another one of those experiences in present-day life; time to say "Been there, done that! Now what's next?" and move on...

Niagara Falls, NY - 5/11 - 5/12

The Falls at Niagara Falls are one of the two 'Wonders of the World' that I have seen, the other one being the Taj Mahal. One; the work of God, the other, work of Man. Both white, pristine and divine.
Some observations:
1. The Maid of the Mist is truly one of the most blissful experiences, it makes man one with water. Having been a water-baby all my life, standing between the horse-shoe falls, I was completely at home!
2. I now know why they call Niagara Falls, a Desi Hub. At any point of time, (during the peak season, especially) you can find atleast 400-500 desi's there. The number-range is the result of analytical calculations made by all of us. The omni-presence of Indian restaurants, supplemented the analysis.
3. A ‘Return to Innocence’- achieved while feeling the mist from the falls, spray itself on my face.
4. Another co-incidence-that-has become-regular, when we walked into Elvis and his friends, whom we met in VA, a month ago.
5. The best place on the boat, closest to the falls, is right up in front and always has room for more people.
6. Five rainbows-displaying seven distinct colours, within five feet; each beginning from and ending inside the falls, to give an illusion of five colourful rings, half submerged in the water, are a rare ‘wonder’.
7. Seeing your parents and friends, all scream alike, with joy and awe, when the falls enclose and soak you, within them, doesn’t happen everyday in life.
8. Even after two years, the ‘desi’ dhaba we re-traced our paths to, served us the same quality-cooked home-made meal, we relished the first time around.
9. Chance meetings with famous cricketers in Rest Area’s can result in big arguments and varied opinions.
10. Natural barriers between nations, create a natural human inquisition about ‘the other side’, even though the other side is similar to this one, for all practical purposes. Feelings experienced at this border, however, lacked the "fear" experienced in Kutch, overlooking Karachi lights in the distance.
11. Projected Rainbow-lights from the Canadian side, onto the Falls, at night, honestly ‘chees-ify’ the whole day-time experience.
12. Water draws you towards it; its translucence, its innocence, its purity.
Falling water entices and grabs you, deceives and lures you, until you are mesmerized and struck by its rhythm…..until the sprays get the better of you and you are transported into a state of temporary virtue, a piece of paradise!

Orlando, FL - 5/27 - 5/30

The long weekend was spent in the Sunshine State of Florida, with my parents and two friends from the ‘Sahayog’ days. Sahayog, is the housing society where I was born and raised for 23 years, my first and only home in Bombay. My parents are presently visiting from Bombay, R is here in NY on a project from Bombay and A is interning in Orlando, FL with a petroleum company, as part of his MBA internship program. Turns out, as one of those coincidences in my life that have now become regular, that R plans to go to Orlando, FL the same weekend as we are and A has moved there just a week ago for his internship.
Someone up there, loves overlapping schedules and plans them rather well, at that. So, the five of us ended up making memories together, at the Universal Orlando parks. The next day, my parents and I were at DisneyWorld’s Magic Kingdom among famous book-characters, fairies, mice and ducks. The same night, I was in downtown Disney, club-hopping with the guys. A great 3-day weekend, that felt like a vacation! Some highlights:

- The trip to Universal was my second one, the first one having been to the one in LA. Universal Studios, Orlando is much smaller compared to Universal Studios, Studio City, in California, so that was a little disappointing for me, although for the parents, it was a new and thus exhilarating experience. This Universal Studios did not have a studios-and-sets tour, which I really wished they had. Figured, we would have to do Universal, CA sometime again:)
- The highlight of the day was the Shrek 4-D show, which deserves every bit of the hype it has generated. I hadn’t seen it, since Shrek didn’t exist at the time of my first Universal experience. Hollywood reigns over Bollywood, inspite of being the smaller industry, on account of it’s unmatched technical expertise in movie-making, and it’s aplomb in showcasing the movies as experiential shows in such theme parks. A similar Bollywood theme park in Bombay, would make an excellent design dissertation topic for a final year B. Arch student, in Bombay – a mind thought!
- The highlight of the trip was Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, which truly delivers its promise of being the “Happiest Celebration on Earth”. As A later added, Disney ranks number one in customer satisfaction; I now know why. Contrary to what I had imagined, the park refused to bore me and brought out the child in my parents and me, alike. From wild roller-coaster rides to adventure-filled cruises, from Peter-Pan’s Neverland to Mickey’s Philharmagic, from Cinderella’s castle to Tom Sawyer’s half-painted picket fence with “Tom loves Becky” scrawled on it, the park stuns you with it’s magnificence and exactness of the fiction-world you imagined when growing up, in the 80’s.
- Cartoon characters like Mickey and Minnie, Donald and Daisy never grow old-fashioned or out of style; they defy generation gaps. My thrill at hugging Mickey was equal if not more than the 5 year olds’ in line ahead of me.
- Kids cry less, enjoy themselves more, dress way better and have a lot going for them, in this country – Mom’s observation, seconded by me.
- An experience to be re-lived every some-years for sure, just like the trips we make back home, to refresh our minds, make new memories and have pure, unadulterated fun! I must especially mention the sweeping long ride, we waited longest for in line, with Peter Pan, flying over Neverland. Was worth the wait; Actually felt like Neverland.
- Floridian weather is the closest you can get to Bombay’s weather of 15 years ago; comfortably warm, humid and sunny. Seemed like, the weather also played its part in my childhood retrospective.
- Clubbing in Florida, takes on a whole new meaning, unlike other cities in America. A decided that we would go clubbing in Pleasure Island, one of the many ‘suburbs’ of DisneyWorld. Tickets at the gates of Pleasure Island are sold on a per-club or club-hopping basis. Once inside, you have the option of dancing in front of a huge screen on the street or hopping in and out of various clubs scattered all over the Island. This was a whole new scale of club-hopping for me, coming from the familiar tightly packed clubs in Manhattan, each charging $20 (or more) as cover. Felt like we were somewhere between Goa and America, seeing people casually attired for the night, a huge contrast from the impeccably stylish New Yorkers.
- The kind of investment, ideas and technique, that go into the making of theme-parks which are highly experiential in nature, is phenomenal. Be it the drops of water that fall on you everytime Shrek sneezes or the wafts of apple pie that breeze under your nose when Donald Duck bakes one, 4-D visual experiences take you one step closer to “feeling the difference”, what a lot of advertisements brag of. The simulation of the tactile and olfactory senses, in a near 3-dimensional visual experience, drives home the point suitably well, that films are surpassing their basic 2-dimensional domain of celluloid to interact with the viewers. At this rate, there is no stopping what may come our way next, in our visits to theme parks. As Dad casually remarked when we were boarding the elevator to the Astro-Orbiter in the Magic Kingdom’s Tomorrow-land, “Someday we will be taking elevators to board real rockets into space.”
- One moment we were kids in Magic Kingdom, the other we were drinking vodka (that was me), smoking cigars (that was the guys) in Pleasure Island, both parts of DisneyWorld. This is one aspect of the commercialization of America; kids can be grown-ups too!
- One of the most enjoyable drives of my life, ended with several screeches and a big crash when Mom rammed our Indy-race car into the ones ahead. And I thought only I did that, with my Maruti 800 back home:)
- Dad’s initial reactions to roller-coaster rides, convinced me of my observations since years now - Women are more raring to go roller-coastering than men.
- Florida has a very Californian, Texan and Nevada-like feel to it, in its palm landscapes and sunny skies, broad freeways and flat-land, and ugly/ lit-up symbolic signages, respectively. This multiple character makes it a very appealing resort state, on the same coast as NY, which is heartening:)
- Seeing that your Dad still cannot sleep until he hears you sneaking in at night, can be very frustrating and endearing, at the same time.
- Catching up with a friend, till 3 am at night, in a new city, on a hotel bench, felt like being back on a study-trip from architecture days.
- Other pure acts of joy included seeing a thrilled child on a carousel, smiling kids rushing towards Mickey, face-painted angels having the time of their lives, pink-cheeked kids squealing in delight…..and so the list goes on…..
- Family vacations are always sources of pure pleasure. Parents can still say or do things that can surprise us and reveal sides of themselves, we may have never seen before. Possibilities exist of role-reversals and power shifts. At times I was like a single mom with two kids, at others I was the kid with two parents. Eitherways, it was nice!

2 Weekends!

2 Graduations,
7 States,
2 Chinatown Bus rides,
1 lost bus driver,
2 long Car drives,
2 overnight guests,
2 movies at Times Square (one ours and one Telugu film being shot),
2 cruise's over the Hudson,
1 trip 'inside' Lady Liberty,
5 people running (to be on time) in Lower Manhattan,
1 Helicopter ride over the city,
A few tears at Ground Zero,
1 sumptious Italian dinner,
5 glasses of Sangria,
1 toast to 1 Anniversary, 1 birthday, 1 job, 1 car, 1 house,
1 Tiramisu,
1 departure,
3 hours at JFK,
200+ pictures,
120 mins of footage,
New York City, by land, water and air,
5 days of life lived, in sheer bliss!

Age

The Seven Ages of Man - William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


My parents are visiting me currently in NYC and as has been the norm since I moved to the US, I have met them at regular intervals of 7 months. This time was no exception as well. Only now, they seem to be growing older much sooner. Every 7th month that I see them, I discover new signs of age; a new wrinkle I never knew of before, new lines near the eyes, slower walking paces, smaller strides, difficulty in getting up from being seated; but thankfully no new ailment.
As a child, you can never imagine your parents growing old. The child in me, has yet to come to terms with the fact, that my parents will grow still older with time.
That, I guess means, its finally time for me to grow up!

Raga...

my first, oldest and best friend.
my philosopher, guide and inspiration.
my twin, bench-partner and hero.
my sister, child and embarrasment.
The perfect complement to my personality, for the past 26 years of my life and many more to come!
To Her; one of the best gifts life has given me....a very very very Happy Birthday!
:)

Today...

...the 2nd of May, 2005 is Snehi-Shaadi day!
Snehi gets married to Atit and becomes 1/4 Gujju...(She already was 1/4 Bihari, 1/4 Malayali and 1/4 Maharashtrian before). In doing so, she adds a new dimension to her cosmopolitanism....and another 'bolt' to the 15 year old legacy we call 'The Nuts'!
On the biggest day of her life and thus a very big one in mine, here's to the nut and her bolt.....May all the happiness and success of the world be yours!
Happy Snehi-shaadi day!

Dallas, TX - Day 2

Day 2 (Sunday, 10th April 05'):
The morning saw us leave home at 11 am, after some brief planning of the day ahead. Me, being the morning-coffee person of the two, Sachin drove me to a Starbucks in Highland Park, supposedly one of the most elite neighbourhoods of the city. Having been through most affluent parts of LA, had already provided me with an insight into grand homes. Driving through Highland Park, added a new dimension to that insight.
Impression 7: Texas’s insane spatial expanse makes it’s people want to expand horizontally, even when building homes. Sachin was right when he said, that you wont find any homes go higher than two storey’s here. On the contrary, I actually saw homes that sprawled lengths of blocks, horizontally, leaving me to wonder if they had moving walkways within to traverse the vast distances.
After having driven through Highland Park and getting lost in there for about two hours, we finally got back on track and drove towards Cosmic Café for lunch. This was Sachin’s recommendation (an excellent one at that); “It’s a very hippie kind of a place, will suit your personality just fine” he said to me. I was just about to be flattered when he added, “I said ‘hippie’ not ‘hip’!” Yah, whatever!
Cosmic Café turned out to be one of the best Indian-fusion restaurants I’ve ever been to. To be honest, I was surprised I hadn’t been to a similar one in NYC. NYC’S loss was Dallas’s gain. With more space and low rates, Texas scored. To be able to have a Cosmic Café, that lives upto its name, provides for Yoga and Meditation centres on the upper level, a scattered but detailed ambience created with various mundane Indian objects and a pretty good menu, for comparable and ridiculous low prices, added this restaurant to my "Exotic taste on the trip" list. (Clearly, a list that comprises of eateries, where I eat, on my travels and remember for the rest of my life. The last name on the list was the café in North Beach, SF). I kept arguing with Sachin that this café was surely owned by some like-minded Indian and he insisted it belonged to an American. Eitherways; I would have loved to meet the owner and have a conversation about his excellent venture. A must-go place for every visitor to Dallas! The meal was tasty, the portions were just right, the chai was as close to India as it could get, and the mood thus, was upbeat. We left with broad smiles and bulging tummies, to drive off to South Dallas, to explore the downtown.
My excellent navigational skills, (modestly speaking) helped, and we ended up seeing most of downtown, just driving through it. Sachin realized he had never explored the historic West End district before, always having turned back before entering it. So the quaint appearance of the streets there, pleasantly surprised him. A classic case of what I call the ‘Catalyst Tourist’ (one who shows us sides of our city, we’ve never seen before). Coincidentally it turned out, by the end of the trip, that most of the things we did that weekend, were a first for the both of us. I guess that’s what made it so enjoyable.
The next stop was to be in North Dallas, at the Dallas Arboretum, by the Whiterock Lake. Sachin had been there biking before, but the day wasn’t at its sunniest best, so that option was ruled out. It goes without saying that today was the last day for the Dallas Spring Flower Show, at the arboretum. (We concluded this was an excellent weekend to be in Dallas). Previously, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about the flower show, citing the excuse that I could always see the Macy’s flower show in Manhattan. Luckily, Sachin insisted and we spent the next three hours, moving from flower to flower in the arboretum. That; we had to keep reminding ourselves to read the flower names/history etc. instead of just posing for pictures with them, is another story. We must have appeared like two ‘wannabe’ models, who kept taking pictures of each other, against the floral backdrops. My camera batteries died, hoping I’d get the hint and stop this shameless desperation to be photographed. But; to no avail. Sachin’s camera came to the rescue and the desperation carried on. Fellow-visitors were requested often to shoot us together, until finally we both realized that our insanity may have driven them away. The rest of the time was spent walking around and taking pictures of the two 15 ft tall manicured peacock-shaped hedges, with tails that were landscaped with various flowers in colourful patterns.
The arboretum had a beautiful view of the lake as well, so we decided to drive by it. But its huge size, scenic surroundings and the sight of people fishing and biking past, made us want to park and enjoy the view for a bit. After a few more pictures by the lakeside, we drove off towards Sachin’s workplace, the Texas Instruments Headquarters, on my insistence. Sachin had described his ‘huge’ gym at work to me, which was enough reason to check out the facility.
Having seen how huge spaces can get here, I should have known what to expect at TI as well. But, seeing the cubicles line up one after the other endlessly, gave me the vague feeling of being somewhere between a warehouse and a sweat-shop. Obviously, it wasn’t either; the space was too well planned to be a warehouse and the people were paid too well for it to be called a sweat-shop. Even the ladies room was impressive-with jacuzzi’s, sauna’s, hot-tubs and one hair-dryer per sink. The facility was humungous and to get to the gym alone, we had to drive a few blocks. And of course, the gym was equipped with everything from a snack machine to open fields for ball games. I left the TI facility awe-struck.
Impression 8: While driving back towards Sachin’s place, we passed apartment complexes, that seemed to mock me with ‘One-bedroom apartments for $200”. Texas’s inexpensiveness was getting tough to digest, somehow.
The plan for the rest of the evening was to go back to the Indian hub of Dallas, for ‘chaat’ and ‘vadaa-paav’ and hit the funnily named ‘Amar..Akbar…Anthony’ theatres for the 6:30 show of the movie ‘Bewafaa’. (Sachin, being one of the few ‘filmy’ guys I know, this was a pre-planned event, as it appealed to both our ‘Bollywood-loving’ souls). Neel, Sachin’s ex-classmate from OSU/ present co-worker was to join us for the movie.
We reached the Taj Imports store, and Sachin warned me that I would now see hordes of ‘Aunties and Uncles’ inside the store. I had been to Indian stores before, in various parts of the country, but had obviously never seen one as spacious as this one. NRI’s differ just as the cities they live in, a point I have made in a previous travelogue. Dallas NRI’s, like most NJ one’s, as I was told, were among the first set of Indians that migrated and settled in the US. Most of them belonged to the Gujarati community, (‘gujjus’ as we colloquially call them) and established motel businesses or shops here.
(In keeping with the NRI topic, I must mention a hilarious piece of trivia, Sachin and Neel told me about-Apparently the funniest part of watching a Hindi movie in Dallas is when the movie features Paresh Rawal in it. He being the gujju community’s only claim to fame in Bollywood, that creates an uproar in the audience and people clap in his scenes. I am quite sure that, must provide for an entertaining show, by itself.)
After splurging over spicy ‘vadaa-paav’s’, Sachin and I drove to the tri-theatre complex to meet Neel, who had called promptly to inform us, that the movie had already started at 6 pm. We still decided to go ahead with our plans and saw ‘Lucky’ instead of ‘Bewafaa’ as recommended by the ticket-window guy. (A huge waste of money, in return for hardly any entertainment). We got out of the show discussing how ‘Bewafaa’ would have been a better choice (atleast it had some credible/hot actors and a storyline, which although common would involve some drama in it)
After a fun-time mocking and criticizing the film, we drove back home. Since I had an early morning flight out to LGA the next morning, we decided to call it an early night after a short walk around the artificial pond. The walk turned out to be short, but generated a discussion that went on for almost four hours into the night, accompanied with Sachin, midnight-snacking on ‘Maggi’ again.
Impression 9: Dallas, in true Texan style, provided the much-needed anti-thesis -‘ more space’ and ‘less pace’ from my regular NY lifestyle. Sachin’s interesting company, gracious hosting, our refreshing conversations, smiling strangers, peek-a-booing kids, and whirlwind touring of the twin cities of Dallas and FortWorth, just reinstated what my ‘skillet-potato’ chef at the fest flaunted on his huge torso-“Everything is big in Texas”…..most of all, hearts!

FortWorth/Dallas, TX - Day 1

Day 1 (Saturday, 9th April 05'):
Dallas was an unexpected trip. It all started with Raj having a free-ticket on American Airlines, to any of their destinations in the US and Europe. Now had this been known before, that I would end up using the ticket, it would have been put to its best use, by flying somewhere in Europe. But let's just say that Raj got busy with interviews and I got lucky with the ticket. After trying all my preferred destinations on all my preferred dates, I ended up with Dallas, TX. Figured I have to travel to Texas at some point of time, may as well do it for free. (They say there’s not much to see or do there. I know that will hurt a lot of sentiments, but thats how I felt:)
My host for the weekend was to be Sachin. Sachin is my second-degree friend; he was roommates with my best friend and thus I got to know him. Before this trip, I have met Sachin just twice, once in San Diego from where we vacationed in Las Vegas together and once in Mumbai, when we spent a day together. Both the times, my best friend was with us and the three of us hit it off very well. Let's just say, that I had assumed that all the good friendships in life had already been formed. Any new friends now, are usually friends of existing friends. Sachin is one of them.
My weekend-er started off with splendid aerial views of Manhattan, one of the other reasons why I choose to fly out of LGA versus JFK. To be able to see the city you love, from up above, and discern its various smaller elements, just like in a map, is a high like none other. The perfect adieu to the perfect city.
I landed at 10:00 am in DFW Airport. Sachin was running a bit late, to pick me up so I strolled along at the airport, only to find a lot of people staring at me. Wondering if something's wrong with me, I hurried to the women's room. It must have been at that time that I noticed I was probably the only girl wearing a skirt at the airport.
Impression 1: Texan women dress like their male counterparts. (I guess you don't look "girly" in Texas).
I was supposed to find out about parking facilities at the train station at the airport, for Sachin, from the Information desk. The guy there was Indian, and sadly could’nt understand me very well. Must’ve been the generation gap or the possible lack of southern slang in my tongue. I left with a “thanks” and a train schedule in my hand. Found Sachin in a while and we set off with coffee and bagel in hand, towards his car. Of course, I had to exclaim my pre-planned “Oooh…So this is Texas!” one-liner once I was out.
We drove off towards the DFW train station, to catch the train to Fort Worth, for the Main Street Arts Festival. As does usually happen with my trips, today was the last day for the fest, so I had made it there just in time. We parked Sachin’s car at the station parking lot and tried to figure out how to buy our tickets from the vending machine. ("I am the public transportation queen, so I should know" was my argument). After some button-pressing we finally got our tickets and waited along with a lot of families, all dressed in ‘we-are-going-on-a-summer-holiday’ fashion, for our train. Luckily we had’nt missed the 10:23 as it was late and boarded it to get to our destination.
Impression 2: Either kids in Texas are friendlier than kids in NYC or I am funnier to country kids than city ones.
The rather slow train journey was spent playing peek-a-boo with the cute little Texan in the front seat and chatting with Sachin.
On reaching FortWorth, Sachin and I got out our cameras for some touristy photo-shoots. We followed the crowd and reached towards the Main Street where the fest was sprawled all over 5 blocks. I was excited to be at my first real street festival in this country, (NYC street fests dont really count as street fests, for various reasons) having thought of it as being like the ones on Food TV. Only as Sachin clarified to me several times, this was not a food but an art fest. We moved from one stage to another, hearing various bands playing their music and admiring the art-works on display. As always, none of the art was affordable. That sparked off a discussion on Art as an active or passive profession and Sachin mentioned how he wanted to pick up photography as an alternative profession than his current one-that of a Design Engineer.
Moving through the art-stalls we reached the family section where a Canadian tight-rope walker played an entertainer to perfection. Kids loved him and adults cheered along. The next stop was at a one-man stall where every correct answer yielded a buck as a reward. Needless to say, we knew most of the answers but did’nt manage a single buck and soon realized that waiting any more, would entail a lecture on Christianity, so we fled.
Like most street festivals, the food was expensive. We bought ourselves two coupon strips (10 coupons each) worth $10 and realized that most meals would cost the entire strip. I opted for a ‘Skillet Potatoes’ having been tempted for the taste of Texas, seeing two burly men cooking them in a huge skillet. Aptly, the men wore T-shirts which read “Everything is big in Texas”. Good Value for a good meal. Sachin on the other hand, opted for a sausage-in-a-bun (which left him hungry) and a glass of lemonade (which left him with a bad taste in his mouth). Talk of poor judgement!
A candy floss, Starbucks’ iced coffee and scented tea shots, later we found ourselves done with the place and ready to leave. The holiday mood had been captured in both our cameras and without much success I had managed to photograph some beautiful kids with their painted faces.
Impression 3: People prefer baby wagons for their kids in this side of the country. Must have something to do with the fact that life here is not so fast and space is endless.
The next stop was to be at a Rodeo-show. A must-do on this trip, as it was an exclusive Texas thing. The historic Wild West show from the 1800’s was to be playing in the nearby Stockyards Coliseum. Unfortunately, on calling them for directions, we were told that the show had been cancelled and there, emerged my excuse to come back to Texas. We got back on the train to DFW Airport train -station where Sachin had parked the car and drove off into my first freeway ride into the land of highways.
Impression 4: Texas highways are painted, unlike highways in any other cities in the US that I have seen so far. Each structural column has one star on it, to symbolize perhaps the “One star” state that TX is. It is called such, as the state flag has only one star on it.
Impression 5: I thought California was freeway-land, but now I am convinced that TX takes the cake when it comes to freeways and their wild criss-crossing on the horizons.
En route to Sachin’s place, we decided to stop over at the Hindu Temple in Dallas. I instantly compared it to the temple I visit regularly in Flushing, Queens and found it to be more spacious, painted and elaborate in some ways. The only thing missing was the delightful canteen that I feast in every weekend, in the temple back home. We left, after darshan to go over to Sachin’s place – a spacious (I need not say this word anymore, as TX is about space…too much of it, in fact) one-bedroom apartment, with a sprawling pond in front of it, circumvented by a jogging track and lush green landscape). A pool and Jacuzzi of course were tucked away in the corner, somewhere, as goes the norm with most apartment complexes BUT those in NYC.
Impression 6: Texas defines Space; the extravagance of it, the profundity of it and the profanity of it. As an Architect, that was my biggest turn-on. The inexpensiveness of the state, lack of state tax and dirt cheap rents ($600 for Sachin’s home, that is equal to a mansion for a single middle-class New Yorker) actually made me stop and re-evaluate my life, if only for a moment.
Once I snapped out of my space-dream, I noticed Sachin’s tastefully done apartment. I must admit, it was one of the best and cleanest bachelor apartments, that I had seen, the other one being my friend Kunal’s in SF. Sachin played the host to perfection-treating me to some hot tea (desi-style) with masala, ginger and all that jazz. He then, got out his guitar and crooned to some cool numbers, singing along as he strummed. The morning fest in the Texas sun and lack of sleep took its toll on me and I slept for an hour.
In the evening, we drove to the Indian hub of Dallas, to dine in an Indian Chinese restaurant (at my request). En route we picked up Abbas, Sachin’s friend/ co worker. Sadly the food was’nt all that good (as my tummy would find out the next morning) and turned out that the restaurant believed in quantity (too much of it) over quality. With our stomachs' full and hearts' empty, we left the restaurant.
Post dinner conversation flowed after we got back to Sachin’s place, over some old Smirnoff, until Sachin amazed me with the “I am still hungry, Do you want some Maggi?” one-liner. He had already made me feel guilty earlier, at seeing my appetite equal his over dinner, now it was my turn to gape. Eventually, we called it a night on some good 80’s music and old vodka with O.J.
Tomorrow was going to be Dallas-darshan.

Of Lines...

...Numerous lines...
One after the other, each line gives definition to the previous one. Each forms its own identity, physical or meta-physical, when it appears. White pages transform into sermons, Black screens vamp into multitudinous streaks of colour. From its inception to its end, in solitude or in company, each line is a bearer of meaning; purposeful, descriptive, definitive, informative, creative and participatory, in the entire assemblage.
Often, a line does more, than connect two points. Some lines work in succession, others work in their discontinuity.
A collection of them, can convey meanings of serious proportions. One line can make, or break, cross, or connect. An appropriate line can create history, an erroneous one, blasphemy. Broken or continuous, rhythmic or random, old or new, they all work in synchronism…at the end of which, we see the bigger picture...
...A well-written piece of prose or a well-drawn piece of architecture!

P.S: I draw for a living and write for existing. Lines, thus are my constant companions and best modes of expression. The above piece is a tribute to them.

Spring!

Temperatures have crossed over the 40 deg F line. The last snow-storm went by, it seems, as usual, without bidding adieu. It’s time to dry clean the winter coats and woolen wear and pack them in mothballs. Sweaters and scarves have to be replaced by skirts and kurtas. Snow boots will step behind, to make place for “jootees” and slippers. Spring fashion has already hit the store windows.
Trees will soon start showing signs of life. Days have already become longer and the skies are picture-postcard blue. Winter seems to have passed us by nonchalantly.
Windows at home, have started staying open. The fire escape will soon regain its social-pad status. Before long, the Air conditioner will have to be re-installed. The old Italian couple, next door, will soon start planting their garden in my backyard, accompanied by the clink of their wine glasses and loud Italian chatter.
The gym has become crowded, as women flock to shape up for the impending summer. ‘Happy hours’ are announcing themselves all over the city. My pushcart breakfast provider has started displaying “Cold-coffee” and “Iced Tea” in his regular menu.
Manhattan is going from black-and-white to colour, seems like Spring is here!

Moving Windows

Give me a moving window and I am lost. It’s almost as though I’ ve been a captive in a cell without a window for years. All my life, I have been one of those “window-seat” persons. From my childhood days to the present, this is the best way to shut me up.
(I think it possibly originated when Mom would ask me to “look out of the window” when a T.C would approach us in the train. Apparently for a very long time after I had turned 5, I could pass off to still be under it. Mom always optimized this to her advantage and never bought me a full ticket (a.k.a adult fare ticket) in the train, for quite a few years. Yes, you can safely say, that my ‘cheating the system to save some money’ habit, is a much-valued inheritance.)
In a window-seat, I can sit and stare, without talking for hours. Time and again when I have done this, (in a train/ car), I have often been misunderstood to be arrogant, quiet, reserved, feeling out-of-place etc by my fellow travelers. But that’s usually me taking my time-out, from being the social, talkative person that I am, to becoming a recluse, engaging myself with the sights/ sounds/ smells that the window brings.
Looking out of the window, I acquaint myself with the outside. The window is a threshold, between the world and me, both of us moving in sync with each other, one ahead, the other behind. The window reveals different worlds, usually ones different than mine. Sometimes tinted, sometimes not, the windows always speak. They tell me stories and I listen. They show me sights that I see and emanate smells that I experience.
Not all windows engender a dialogue. Those that do, are ones in buses, cars and trains (in India), especially when kept open. Mainly, because they are also the most dynamic and interactive. Airplane windows fall more in the reflective category; the monotony in their view instigates my mind to reflect. Subway windows, reflect the inner scenes on themselves and ironically, superimpose the ‘inside’ on the ‘outside’.
Moving windows make voyeurism legal. They exist so they may be looked out of, sometimes even looked in to. Moving windows are frames in motion, their movement being the essence of their existence that perhaps lures everyone from children to adults, to window-seats.
It’s almost like sitting by a painting in process, a story in progress and a journey in rhythm; a collage of multiple images like a slide-show, where the slides proceed in an iota of a second...and I lose myself in what has gone and what shall soon be gone.

Keys!

I am an only child; I do not have siblings. Never felt the need for any too. Except, when both my parents ganged up against me, and my arguments alone did’nt stand ground. Perhaps then, a sibling who could be part of my defense team would have helped. But otherwise, I didn’t really need anyone.
Both my parents are professionals and have worked throughout the time I was raised. My Mom proudly narrates that she was back to work three months after I was born. She is also proud of the fact that I was raised in a crèche, run by a neighbour, since I was 6 months old.
Since I was 10, I have been spending a lot of time alone at home. Until that age, Mom (She’s a teacher) and I both went to school at 12 pm and got back at 6 pm, conveniently synchronized.
At 10, when I graduated onto the fifth grade, I had morning school, from 7 am to 1pm. Since I was old enough according to Mom, I was handed a set of house-keys and allowed to stay home alone after school. Thus; I had my first set of house keys at the age of 10. That, in retrospect, was a lot of freedom, at a rather young age, which none of my friends enjoyed.
By handing me the house keys, Mom had entrusted me with the responsibility of the house for six hours everyday. Six hours of being alone at home, every weekday, for the next 13 years of my life, was an important lesson in responsibility, independence and in a little way, house management.
The keys gave me independence. I no longer had to wait in a crèche, until Mom came home from work. And when I went home, I had the house all to myself. I started to make my own decisions at a very young age.
Time spent alone at home, made me think a lot, so I became frequently introspective. Since I am quite talkative and there were no siblings to talk with, I spoke to myself; sometimes aloud, at others through prose or poetry. It is around then, that I began to write. Being home, alone, also made me responsible, not just towards the house, but generally towards my own life and possessions.
As I grew up in these circumstances, I started valuing my time spent with myself. It became an important part of my life. I also acquired the skill of withdrawing myself from the world whenever I felt like it, much to their annoyance. It didn’t matter how many people or how much noise surrounded me, I could contract into my shell and delve.
It is through this one act, of handing over a set of house keys to me, at a very young age, that my Mom indirectly introduced me to qualities such as independence, responsibility and decision-making. By having me be home alone, she unknowingly instilled in me, value for time spent with myself. In those moments of being home-alone, I gravitated towards expressing myself through poetry and prose, both essential parts of me, even today.
It’s almost as if the keys opened the doors to growing up.

Images of the Season

The coming weekend will see the close of Cristo's art installation at Central Park, titled "The Gates: Central Park, New York, 1979–2005"....easily what this year's winter will be remembered for!
Some images that my walls will wear soon...


Cristo's sketch 

Yellow 

Silhouette 

The Colours of Winter

The weekend that passed, had a theme. It was colour.
Not pre-planned, turned out such.
From the insane wish-wash of colour at the newly opened Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in Manhattan, to the artful expression of darkness, coupled with excellent technical lighting proficience in "Black" (the movie), to the vibrant hues of orange, smeared across the woody, barren and wintery canvas in Central Park....This weekend was about the colours in the New York winter.
The city infamously known to turn "black" in winter, revealed its subtle colourful side.
Manhattan is Modern again....The MOMA is back!
'Black' is beautiful!
Cristo's "Gates" at Central Park are fluttering in the wind, interactive, and 1.089 million yards of orange-yellow fabric pieces, enveloping its 23 miles of dynamic pathways!

All of them are forms of art, at its very best!

Overworked??

There's something about taking time off, on a regular day which doesnt seem appropriate to me.
As a child in primary and secondary school, I prided myself on winning the "Full Attendance" Certificate at the end of each year. As the name clearly indicates, this certificate was awarded to students who came to school each working day of the academic year. Perhaps, it was an incentive installed for students who otherwise would be tempted to play truant at times. But for me, it was a matter of personal pride to march up to the dias each year and claim my prized certificate. Now in retrospect, it seems to me that, that had been an obsession.
Of most of my other weird qualities as a child, Mom distinctly remembers this one. Of course part of this discipline was inculcated in me, by her...but I do remember there being times, such as when I fell and had to get stitches on my cheek. It was an accident that required me to be away from school for a week or so. The pain of the fall or the stitches did'nt come close to that of having to miss school. The Auntys' from the neighbourhood, could not understand this syndrome in me, as most of them tried to show me the good side of bunking school, but I was adamant. That "Full Attendance Certificate" had to be won!!
In High School, things did'nt change that drastically either. When most of my friends were enjoying their newly found freedom to 'bunk classes', I was attending them, most of the time. Even though, what I did inside the class, during a lecture, came nowhere close to jotting down notes. Instead my in-class duties included signing the attendance sheet for my 'absent' classmates. However; I was more 'in' than 'out' of most of my classes in High School!
In Architecture School, things did change a bit more, although only in the last 2-3 years when there was too much work to get done. I did begin to bunk classes now - but only when pre-decided by the whole class, to mass-bunk the day! So you can still comfortably presume, I had'nt got too far yet from my 'sincere' attendance days. After all, if people mass-bunked, then obviously there would be no classes held and I would'nt miss anything. So I figured it made sense to stay back at home and work, if I didnt go to school. I still remember the vaccum I felt, after defending my Final year Design Thesis. There was actually nothing to do, and I could'nt handle that, honestly.
Working in Mumbai as an Architect, is no different than studying to be one; you work more hours than you sleep! So the one year of work/ fellowship that followed my undergraduate years, was pretty much like an extension of school.
In Architecture School in the US, life again took the same beaten path it did in Undergraduate school; more studio hours, less sleep, lots of work!
Now I am in the Working Phase of my life. Everything is smooth and my ship is sailing very well. Except, there are days when there's nothing to do, like today!
In big cities, big offices (such as ours) handle big projects (such as airports) which have big time frames (such as 5 - 10 years). That just means, that the pace of work is never uniformally structured or disciplined. Its super fast at times and absolutely slow at others. The problem with me is, I feel the latter more than I do the former, obviously on account of my 'regular attendance' background. It's not like I dont take time off to vacation, I do, quite regularly too at that. But, there's always this feeling of wanting to get back to routine when I am away from work.
As a child, I always wished I was in my parents' shoes - go to work in the mornings and come back home at night and then watch t.v/ read/ meet friends. No homework to do, no projects to work on, no models to make, no all-nighter's to pull through. It seemed like on the other side of the fence, lay this beautiful world where there was time for the pleasures of life. Little did I know that by the time I made the transition, I would be so used to over-work that the normal pace of work would seem slow to me.
I know for a fact, that the five years of my undergraduate life and one year of graduate life, were the most hardworking years of my life! I may have not come too far from them, in terms of time, but I will not be surprised if, even after some more years, I still think that. That does'nt mean that I will not work harder and achieve what I want to in the future...It just means that nothing seems tougher now!!!

When we were growing up, our parents told us that adult life is not as easy as it looks.....For some weird reason, I beg to differ!!!

Philadelphia - 01/21 - 01/23

The weekend and the snow storm that passed was survived in Philadephia. Two and a half days; of non-stop talking (most of it on my end I believe, now that my voice texture seems to have changed), catching up with old friends, good "Gujju patra", excellent company and some beautiful moments.
The snow storm did'nt hamper the plans as much as we thought it would. It had already been pre-decided that this weekend was not to 'tour' Philadelphia, but to socially visit it. There were three people to be met up with and I figured 2 1/2 days would be enough for that. Turns out, it was perfect.
Weekend Impressions:
1. Newer relationships can be fostered with old acquaintances in new surroundings.
2. Almost every city on the East Coast, seems to have a thicker historical context and thus a unifying signage system, except NYC.
3. Snow storms are not as horrible as they sound, if you emphasize on the "snow" instead of the "storm".
4. The sight of a snowman is a source of delight to most people, irrespective of their age.
5. Maybe because I was on vacation and had time to stand and stare, I found men and women in Philadelphia more attractive than in NYC. Eventually I was convinced this could be so, since in the latter, more time is spent appreciating people's attire than their good looks.
6. Some people never change with time, some others, seem to change all the time.
7. Sometimes we don't realise how well our friends know us. That; that empowers them in certain ways, is another story altogether!
8. Frank Sinatra is good company on a snowy and pale pink night. So is some good post-dinner conversation that can run upto 4 a.m.
9. Irish men, Irish Pubs'....all rock!!
10. People, who...
- get out in the snow putting aside their apprehensions, for you...
- travel during a storm and wait patiently for trains, for you...
- make time out for you, especially when they have no time for themselves...
...are highly appreciated.
Sometime, I would like to give back the same to them.

Travel-Log!

Travelling has been one of my life's most important aspects, ever since I was a child. Most of it came about as Dad's job description all his life, involved active travel, especially within India. This gave me the opportunity to see most of the country while I was growing up. (I remember Mom telling me stories of how I embarassed her as a child, when I was just one-year old and asked some Aunty on the train for her food)
For some part of my growing years, Dad lived away from us, which meant visiting him every summer vacation and thus exploring that side of the country as well. Later on, when he moved back to Mumbai, our annual family vacations to new cities resumed. Then Architecture school, literally took me to places all over the country in the form of study trips. By the end of it all, I was hooked to travel.
In the years that followed, when I moved out of India, travel took on a whole new meaning. Going back home to India was perpetually on the books. Coupling trips to Europe, en route became part of the agenda too. And of course, the US of A being such a vast country, much had to be explored here too.
The past three years have been crucial in terms of accomplishing some of my elaborate travel agenda.

At the end of 2004, I found myself looking back on all the places I had seen in the recent past and those that I intend on seeing, in the year coming up.
Just thought, that it may help to have a Travel-Log, to keep a record!


Travel-Log 

San Jose/ San Francisco - New Years' Eve/ Back to NYC - Days 8 - 9

Days 7-8 (Friday - Saturday 31st Dec 04' - 1st Jan 05’):
For most part of the day, Nicky and I were parading in her room, deciding what to wear! It was after long that we were doing this whole dressing-up-together act and it was fun to be all-girly again. We were going to a party in the San Jose Convention Center hosted by some DJ's called The Mythical East Company. It was to be a mainly desi event and most of Raj Sr.'s gang from work (also mainly Indian) was going there. So our attire, as Nicky and I planned would be a fusion of Indian and Western wear (as is the case in most Desi Partys')
Finally we agreed upon what to wear, after which it was time for hairstyling. We were going all out that evening, with our dressing-up:)
At this point, I must add a personal note: My best friend, Raga has always managed to screw up my hairstyles, ever since we were kids. Somehow she always persuaded me to be the model for her hairstyling experiments, at the end of which, almost always, I was left with close to a million knots and a bad hair day. Also, she came along with me for every haircut appointment and sat and browsed through magazines, inspite of my strict instructions to concentrate on the hair-cut instead. That of course left me with a bad hairdo for the next 6 months. Since then, I have been wary of taking her along for any haircut appointments or going to her for any hair-advice.
Going by my previous track record with Raga and my hair, I was skeptical to let Nicky do anything to mine. But seeing her work the curling iron on her's, I gave in and did not regret it. In fact, on returning to NYC, that was the first thing I invested in, in the new year!
All dressed and waiting for Raj Sr. to pick us up for the party. Raj Sr. and family (His wife Preeti and son Arav) were nice enough to come pick us up and together all of us drove to the venue for the evening. On entering the hall, Nicky and I lost all our previous apprehensions, about our attire for the evening.(Nicky had been going on and on about how women were dressed in evening gowns in the last New Year party she went to).
As expected, the place was desi-epitomised. I think the party had only-Indians (What else was I expecting in Indian-infested Silicon Valley anyways?), but glamorous Indians. For a moment, I was stunned to see the Indian crowd at the party, immediately realising that all these were Indians who work/ live in Silicon Valley. Whatever my thoughts may be on that genre of Indians, I could not take away the fact, that all of them were reeking of success and therefore wealth and style.
The Silicon Valley as we all know, is largely populated by Indians, but most of them from the software fields. That directly relates to their education and therefore wealth. In a lot of ways, Silicon Valley Indians differ from New York Indians, just as the two places differ from each other: in geography. Silicon Valley Indians, like their geography, form an overall unified typology with their successful lives, lavish lifestyles and Indian-American dreams. New York Indians, on the contrary, are as diverse as the city they live in themselves, they hail from all stratas of society, from cab-drivers to Investment bankers. Thus the Indian diaspora on both coasts offers diverse experiences, which directly connect to their professions.
Women at the party, were dressed in exquisite Indian wear, (As Nicky put it, it almost seemed like we had walked into a Wedding) while men wore western formals -everyone was dressed impeccably. There were hit Bollywood numbers in the air and a rather pathetic and poorly-rehearsed hostess took the stage. The food was undoubtedly Indian; we however did not end up eating as much since we were on the dance floor for the most part of the evening.
As the clock struck 12, we watched the crystal ball fall at Times' Square, another must-do phenomenon I have successfully managed to skip over the past few years. I guess when you live in a city, you take it so much for granted, that you end up missing out on some of its characteristic events. There's always so much to do, work to go to, routine to stick to, that "time to stand and stare" takes a backseat. In such a case, I usually stick to my "One place New with someone New in New York" dogma - since people are always visiting the Big Apple, the best way to make memories with them here, is to go see/ do one new thing with them, that I have never done before. So far it has worked and the best part is I have managed to see most of the touristy parts of New York, inspite of being a resident.
All in all, was a fabulous New Year's day, spent with close friends and their loved ones.
After winding up at 4 a.m the night before, Nicky and I began the new year by sleeping in till noon. Most of the day was spent packing and in the evening, I set out to come back to SF airport, to take my flight back home. The train journey through the Silicon Valley gave me time to surmise my impressions from the past week spent in California...
1. California was the first state I landed in, in the US. I stayed there for exactly a year and 14 days. That makes it my 'first' home in this country,
'first' ...Yes, 'best'...No:)
2. Going by the fact that some of my close friends reside there, it should naturally be my escape: a place I can run to, at anytime and where I will always have a place to stay. That, it is.
3. I enjoyed California more as a tourist than as a resident. Part of the reason may have to do with the fact that I was a poor student for the entire duration of my stay there. That I did not have a car, makes for the other half of the reason.
4. The fact that I do not long for a car in this largely automobile-driven nation, is also perhaps attributed to my initial year in California. The idea that a car is a necessity over a luxury does not appeal to me.
5. For the duration that I lived in California and was car-deprived (ask a native and they will tell you it's almost a crime), I navigated the city on foot.
Obviously distances were larger, neighbourhoods were spread out and the experience thus; least dynamic. What pulled me through were some very helpful classmates/ roommates, the buzzing Broadway Street, behind my apartment (with the most amount of people you can see on a LA street), a friendly nod by the watchman who probably knew me to be the only person walking on that street everyday and a ball of Mochi (Japanese sweet), in Little Tokyo, en route to school. An ocassional movie set and Hollywood film-shoot taking place below the apartment building, also helped:)
6. If I were to buy my own place, it would rather be an apartment in a high-rise with a fantastic city view than a three-storeyed, three car garage house in a proto-typical cul-de-sac. I know the former is also possible in California, but you cant account for people being part of that city view I am talking about.
7. Lastly; I thrive in a socio-cultural, populous and cosmopolitan environment, which is why I thrived at SCI_Arc (the school I did my M.Arch in, located in LA). Although the rest of California may be similar to it, it lacks in the 'populous' arena, which matters the most to me, of the three.
8. I have mentioned this before, but must repeat it again. People in California are like the weather, warm, sunny and kind. It is the random smile that you can expect from a stranger in California, that I miss at times in New York City. Not to mention the cheap wine available in sprawled out grocery stores, a dishwasher at home, laundry in the building and free alcohol in school; these would be nice too:)