People say that Italy is like India, and there are many similarities I see: honking on the road, noise, people talking everywhere ...Rome's metros are full to bursting point. The only difference between Mumbai locals and the Rome metro is that there are doors that slam shut in the latter, so you cannot hang out. But you have to stand on tiptoe if you want to avoid standing on someone else.Our worst encounter in Italy, though, was not the metro. It was not the fact that we got separated by the doors that banged shut, and had to find one another again without the aid of mobile phones that seem like an extension of our bodies today.We got to Rome and looked in our map to figure out where there was a youth hostel. It was early in the morning and cold, but we had IYHF (International Youth Hostel Federation) memberships, and a map with the youth hostels marked. A very bad phone line … [Read more...]
Map-Reading: The Crazy Travelogue Continues
I invite you to examine the map above. Notice where the 'Ostello' is. It's right between the QT8 metro station and the Lotto metro station.When we got to the youth hostel the first time, it was simple enough. Sign-boards guided us from the metro-station QT8 to the hostel.On day two in Milan, we had different plans. We thought we would be a little adventurous. We were backpacking through Europe: we had to do cool, new things; we had to forge new paths!We decided to begin by getting off at Lotto, instead of QT8. No crystal clear directions here, but we had a map, which we could use. Of course.We walked enthusiastically. Then we walked some more. And we walked even further, wondering whether the hostel was equidistant from the two metro stations.We had been told to get off at QT8, so we reasoned that Lotto must be a wee bit further on. A slightly longer walk.So we … [Read more...]
The Crazy Travelogue – V
Coping with a new language, staying with people I did not know and attending school with friends who were much better at French than I was was too trying an experience for me to have written about my experience every day. I wanted to write, but it was all good intentions and nothing more.On the 13th of June, 2004, though, our adventure actually began - three young Indian girls backpacking through Europe. I will never forget those two weeks. Unbelievable, educational weeks. We reached Milan at 9 in the morning and did not know where to begin. We did not speak Italian and we needed to find a youth hostel.We got off the train and walked purposefully down the platform just like all the other people with a destination. There was no other way we could go. And we reached the end of the platform.We exchanged glances, looked around, and learned out first Italian words - ufficio … [Read more...]
Indians in France
(Part IV of The Crazy Travelogue)My sister, our French correspondent and I were sitting on a bench outside a bookshop, when two young men walked past. After a few moments, they turned around and walked back. Ignoring our French companion, they turned to the two of us brown-skinned people."Excuse me," asked one in French, "could we ask you two questions? Just two questions?" My sister and I exchanged glances. "Erm ... Okay ..." "Are you Indian?" "Yes ...?" "From the north of India?" "No, from the south." (Technically, our two questions ended there, but they did not seem to realise.) "From Madras?" We shrugged. Madras, unfortunately, is usually very loosely defined. "Do you speak Tamil?" (Question number four, please note.) "Yes."That sealed it. Switching to Tamil with a stronger accent than I can ever hope to even imitate, they grinned and said in Tamil, "Then why on earth are we … [Read more...]
The Crazy Travelogue: All About Food
This is part three of the crazy travelogue about the French exchange programme. Much of our day, especially in the beginning, seems to have revolved around food, if my diary is anything to go by.On the 22nd of May, 2004, I've written about melon (not exactly a unique experience) and a tart ('not sweet') with spinach and goat cheese. That's when I remember that we had not yet started being adventurous with meat. We were vegetarian then, clearly so.On the 23rd of May, we have hot chocolate and McDonald's as our highlights. (To be fair, we did not want to go to McDonald's, but got pulled with the tide.) For dinner, artichokes. I've told that story already.The highlight of the 24th of May is hot chocolate in a bowl. The problem with a foreign language is that after a while, you don't feel like going on asking, "Sorry? I did not understand." Sometimes, you just agree to something, … [Read more...]
The Crazy Travelogue: French Exchange Programme – II
'I don't think anyone cried,' I've noted in my diary. What? I read it again. I don't think anyone cried.I frown as I read it. It is a singularly strange thing to have noted down. We were going on the French exchange programme - a four-week programme. I have no idea why seventeen-year-old me wanted someone to cry.Evidently, though, I wasn't the only one who found things incomplete. Many of us wanted something more dramatic, something beyond the 'cycling-shorts drama' I wrote about yesterday."I want something to happen," G said. "Something should happen."It was just a while before G's wish was fulfilled. Two hours into our journey to Mumbai, we found out that the Air India ground staff were on strike. Thanks to that, all AI flights were delayed by a few hours. "Is this 'something' enough?" we asked G, who was duly penitent. It was her fault, of course, that the staff were on … [Read more...]
The Crazy Travelogue: French Exchange Programme – I
When you are seventeen and off on Fergusson College's famous French exchange programme, everything seems special. There is nothing that is not worth noting down.Now, I chuckle in delight. There is so much to remember.We begin with what I call the 'cycling-shorts drama' in my excited record of each detail.We had been told to carry cycling shorts because we were going to have a lesson at the circus school in Chambéry. We were fifteen teenagers, bouncing with joy.We whispered to one another. "Did you carry a pair?" "Oh no! I forgot!" "I didn't either!" "Nor I." "Oh my God." "Now what?"Not having a pair of cycling shorts was a Big Deal. We Had Been Told To Carry Them And None Of Us Had Any. The world would come to an end.We called friends, cousins, everyone. At less than half an hour's notice, we had a cousin and a friend coming all the way to college to give us cycling … [Read more...]
Leopard III
It was a cold, cold morning in new Nagzira. We had already won the appreciation of the guides there because we showed up diligently at 6 every morning, despite the fact that we saw 'nothing' (read: no tiger).New Nagzira, as many blogs and reviews would tell you, has barely any animals. A few bison, if you are lucky. A couple of deer (literally, two). A handful of monkeys.That morning, apart from the trees, we had seen nothing. Not a single deer, not a single monkey, not a single bison. We had heard a parakeet screeching - that was about as close we had got to seeing wildlife."Leopard?" asked our driver suddenly. "Leopard!" cried the guide.The leopard, startled at seeing tourists, darted into the trees. From between the bushes, it looked at us and growled. We watched, trembling. Cold, thrill, excitement - read 'trembling' in any way you like.The leopard realised that we were … [Read more...]
Leopard II
It was nearing the time to leave the forest, but we headed back towards the rest house in old Nagzira. The guide needed to use the washroom.There are lots of deer and monkeys near the rest house, so tourists invariably stand around taking photographs.On that day, there were people standing in their jeeps, looking fixedly in one direction."There's something there," I said, frowning. "Must be deer. People are always excited to see deer." "No ..." I insisted. "People don't stand to see deer."And that's when someone gestured to us frantically. "Leopard, leopard!"It was right there, at the rest house! And it was in the mood to hunt.A leopard's camouflage is excellent. It was in plain sight, but a little distance away. We could make out that it was there only when it moved. We watched. A herd of deer was grazing just beyond.And then a doe and fawn emerged.The leopard eyed … [Read more...]
Leopard
We did our research before we went to Nagzira. We knew there were barely any tigers, but we also knew that many, many tourists saw a leopard in Nagzira. Surely, in eleven safaris, we would see one too.The first, second, third, fourth (in Koka) and fifth safaris were over. We were restless. Much as we enjoyed each safari, we wanted something more. Something to write home about. I love bison. I love monkeys, deer and birds. I love trees and sunshine. But I wanted more.In Nagzira, we often felt as if we were the only people in the forest. Unlike in Tadoba, we did not have constant communication with other guides about where the deer and langurs were calling out to one another. Often, I felt like we were lost souls wandering in the jungle: alone and without any sense of purpose.We passed a rare car going in the opposite direction - and found what we wanted.There he was. He emerged … [Read more...]