Flying Suitcase

Hello 2010

January 2, 2010 by neha

Four Squirrels Scampering in the Snow

December 17, 2009 by neha

I watch four squirrels run up and down a pair of snow-lined trees. The wood is damp and dark; the branches arch off in different directions, striking poses that remind me of oriental dancers. The squirrels disturb the comfortably sitting snow; small, furious flakes fly down from the branches and bark. Their running forms create shifting smudges on the white canvas.

Something about the furry with which they moves spells panic. They run up and down, up and down, up and down. Their little paws work furiously and their eyes dart around; the scampering continues. Maybe they were lazy. They thought they still had time to gather their nuts and pile up for winter. Maybe they are lost, searching for the rest of their party, but all the holes are filled with snow. I understand their confusion. Just a few days ago it was dry and bright. You could still spot the odd flowers and fallen leaves. Now everything is lost under an icy slush.

Even the benches in the park below, benches that are never empty, have lost their daily patrons to the snow. I miss the clique of bakas that gather in the afternoon. From my balcony I watch their hands talk, and their heads fall back in laughter. The playground is empty too, as it tends to be at this time of the year. No sequels of joys, no screeching tantrums climbing up the slope. My afternoons have become very quiet.

Twice a day, in the mornings and late afternoons, I spot a dog or two shuffling along the walkway; the owners follow slowly behind, hands stuffed deep in wool-lined pockets and head bent low. The dogs themselves do their business with little fuss; no summer curiosity, no sniffing around for hidden treasures or adventures. I sometimes wonder if they’d rather pee into a potted plant at home. Despite their coat of fur, surely they must get cold.

I am. From the minute I wake up to long after I’ve fallen asleep. I can feel slices of cold creep in through my soles and up to my fingers forming icy webs in between. It’s putting me in a state of permanent brain-freeze. Everything I do is iced with lethargy. I even type slowly these days – q-pause-w- pause-e-pause–r-pause-t-pause-y. And my mind prefers to slip back into warmer memories than tackle the to-do list. I give in and take the trip. Later, as a deadline approaches, l’ll panic and scamper, like the squirrels, in search of the now covered holes.

Posted in notes, snapshots, zagreb | 8 Comments »

How to Survive Auto Rickshaws in the Subcontinent

December 11, 2009 by neha

I love rickshaws. They are exciting. They are insane. These days they a little green as well, running on LPG. But rickshaws aren’t for the faint hearted or the weak of stomach. They demand a certain strength of character, and a cheat code: as with everything Indian, there is order in chaos, and once you figure it out things seem perfectly normal. So here goes:

Think crazy theme park ride, not transport – Remember those crazy car chase sequences which only the Bournes and the Bonds of the world are destined for, well think of the rickshaw as your ticket to the adventure-thriller genre. The trick is to approach the ride as you would a roller coaster.

He isn’t Michael Schumacher; he is better – As ridiculous as this sounds, the driver knows how it’s done. He knows when to hold back, when to squeeze through, and when to power on. In the many years I’ve travelled by rickshaw, I’ve never been involved in a rickshaw accident, and it’s not for lack of trying, mind you. Or maybe it’s all about luck.

Road safety means being a prude – This one goes out to the ladies. If you’d rather he keep his eyes on the road, instead of the mirror staring at the girls, you’ll want to fix your neckline to boring. Button up or wrap yourself in a scarf; the scarf doubles up as a pollution mask as well.

Don’t worry, they will blink first – There’s no point in getting a heart attack over a little rash driving. Traffic rules in India are mythical; everyone’s heard the stories, but there’s no proof they really exist. The rule of the road is more Darwinian – survival of the fittest (bravest, actually). The more pig-headed the driver, the quicker you’ll reach your destination. You’ll hear abuses hurled around, you’ll have to hold on for an unpredictable swerve or two. But you’ll get to your destination in one piece.

Keep an eye on the rate cards and the running meter – The subcontinent is a big, big place. Different rules govern different places. If you are in Mumbai, the rickshaw will run to the meter. Of course, chances are the meter is tampered, but still. In Delhi on the other hand, the meter is just an accessory, like the party clutch, useless but shiny. You must fix on the rate before getting into the rickshaw. Get your local contact to find you a recent rickshaw rate card or find out how much the journey should cost you. Either way, accept that you will be overcharged.

Go ahead, steal a peek – Sure you might be running into a lounging dog or barely squeezed in between two obese buses, but don’t turn your eyes away from the road. It might be ugly, it might be uncomfortable, it might be intense, but it will never be boring out there. Take in the colours and flavours of the country that changes every two steps. The number of absurd, amusing and fascinating things one gets to see from a rickshaw is a long rambling post on its own.

Posted in how/why, india, mumbai | 30 Comments »

My Three Travel Secrets

December 7, 2009 by neha

The Trip Base Three Travel Secrets Tag floating around the internet has found its way to me, via Rob, Candice, Lauren and Nancy; people really want my secrets! And why not, there’s a master-list taking shape and I want to have a (small) say in it, so here goes.

Beyond the Bridge in Llanrwst, Wales

It’s been raining all morning. I splash in and out of puddles on my way to the tiny tea house beyond the bridge. Tu Hwnt i’r Bont (Beyond the Bridge) is covered in green creepers and a summer aroma. Inside, a pot of tea and the best (and by this I mean I’ll trade my writing hand and throw in an iPod, best) scones await.

An Istrian Konoba

It’s noon, we are starving. We stop at a cosy little konoba, a traditional Croatian tavern, on the winding streets of Groznjan. We order some house wine and pick up the menu. This will take a while – everything, and I mean everything here, comes with truffles, even the ice-cream.

Sunset on the Backwaters, Kerala

The day is winding to an end. We are in a wooden boat, drinking cold beers (Kingfisher) and listening to two local musicians playing classical strains that reflect the mood of the fading light. We watch locals heading back home on their own tiny boats; they smile and wave. The sun beings to set.

Posted in landmarks, notes, snapshots | 14 Comments »

Mumbai 26/11/08

November 26, 2009 by neha

My only memory of him is of a moving figure behind piles of Newspaper.

I’d pull out a copy of the paper I wanted, say it out loud, leave the coin on the stack and walk away, heading for class or towards a train, back home. In the background a railway employee announced train departures and schedules in her rehearsed nasal tone.

On some days (when I was paying more attention) I’d catch a glimpse of his cotton shirt – simple and unremarkable – and a pair of spectacles, if I’m not mistaken.

I search and search for a memory from those six years. At times I remember headlines. I remember incidents. I even remember magazine covers. But I can’t remember his face.

He was killed in the attack at CST last year.

Posted in india, mumbai | 7 Comments »

Summer Lovin’

November 21, 2009 by neha

I’m standing on the balcony. It’s cold and the trees are bare. For the first time in months I can see the homes on the other side of the hill. I sniff. I shiver. I take a sip of coffee. My mind wanders back to summer.

Island of Vis, Croatia

We pulled over to an excuse of a shoulder along a mountain road to get this picture. The water was so blue we couldn’t stop staring.

Makarska Riviera, Croatia

I’m not sure how we found this secluded spot. I remember the beach being super crowded.

Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

You don’t realize it in the picture, but the water was so clear, I could see right down to the bottom of the lake.

Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

This poor guy was being picked on by the bigger ducks, before their attention was diverted by a docking boat. I don’t know if he is wallowing in self pity or is simply relieved to have a minute to himself.