My association with France began with a French exchange programme in 2004. I was vegetarian, I barely spoke French, I had never heard the French accent, I was to live with a French family for three weeks and I was to attend French school in that time. And because I was 17, I was not scared, I was excited.I remember the first day vividly. I remember all the attempts everyone made at making conversation. We talked about the world wars. We talked about food. We talked about India. We talked about France. I understood about five per cent of the conversation.And then, one thing led to another, and my sister and I started talking about the Ramayana. In English, it's a beautiful, complex story that I enjoy telling. In French especially back then, I was comfortable only with present tense. That's all very well for regular story-telling, but if you forget that one little episode, you're … [Read more...]
Crisp Apple Strudel
When we went to Salzburg, we knew more about The Sound of Music than about Mozart. Now I'm mildly embarrassed about that, but when we went, I was just plain excited.Everyone wants to talk to young Indian backpackers, and conversation with a co-passenger from Vienna to Salzburg was natural. She told us she lived in Vienna and travelled to Salzburg regularly for work, so we asked her our excited questions: how easy is it to buy apple strudel? Is it a speciality of Salzburg/ Austria? What is schnitzel? Do you eat it with noodles?Vastly amused, she answered our questions before asking us why our questions were so pointed.We told her about the famous song from The Sound of Music, a little surprised that she had not heard of it."Yes, yes," she replied. "I've heard of the movie, I think. But not many people in Austria know it. It's the story of many Austrians during the war." She hinted … [Read more...]
A Night in Florence
"Is the station open all night?" In Florence with no hostel to stay at and frightfully expensive hotel options, we had no choice but to stay at the station."Yes," replied the lady and walked away. I wonder if she even understood the question.We made ourselves comfortable in the waiting-room, as comfortable as we could get. There were other people, thankfully, so we didn't feel destitute. Sitting in the waiting-room somehow bordered on the normal, even though we had not done it before. We lounged on chairs, hugging our luggage, trying to get the seats not to poke us too much. And then, at midnight, they chased us out of the waiting room. "Station-strike," they said.We groaned, picked up our luggage and went out. We were three teenagers outside a station in a foreign country in the middle of the night. Yes, there were others, but they spoke a language we didn't know, they were all … [Read more...]
Nagarahole
It was not the first time we were going to a wildlife sanctuary. We had been to Kanha and we loved it. The idea of going into the jungle once more was thrilling. Safaris in jeeps, the quiet anticipation of a tiger's approach and the sudden sight of a wild boar or a peacock hiding in the trees. Our skin tingled.Until we went to the jungle in Nagarahole for the first time.There, we learned that no jeeps were allowed into the jungle - only a minibus with 25 people. Disappointed already, we set off from the hotel in a jeep with a driver who ought to have considered racing as an alternative profession. Or, as my sister said, "If he likes driving so fast, he should drive an ambulance!" On roads where wildlife crosses at any time, vehicles speed at a crazy 50 or even 60 kmph. As if that's not enough, they approach wild animals as if they're approaching structures of stone! Our driver, … [Read more...]
Learning to Communicate
"Do you speak English?" we asked three police-people standing at a signal in Milan.The policewoman shook her head and turned to the men. "Just a leetle," said one.Then began our attempt to tell them we were lost and looking for our hostel. The hostel had given us a map, but we had walked clean off the map and had no idea how to get back. The word 'hostel' brought no reaction, so we showed them the map and said 'ostello'. We had no idea how to ask 'where', 'how', nothing! But 'ostello' was enough. They brought out another, more detailed map of Milan and had an animated discussion while we watched. They argued with one another about how we could go, one would start explaining to us slowly, another would interrupt...Then the policewoman tried. She said something like 'douce'. We shrugged. She asked again, "Douce, douce?" We had no idea what she was trying to say.Then, one of the … [Read more...]
Raghurajpur
If you have a day in Puri, visit Raghurajpur. You can see the Konark temple in history textbooks; you can't see the little craft village with all its passion and creativity.Raghurajpur is famous for painting on Tussar silk and for its palm-leaf engraving. Watching the process of engraving palm leaves was fascinating, as was noticing the attention to detail in each engraving. It was magical to see a splotch of ink on a palm leaf being transformed into a beautiful engraving that would last four hundred years.Even so, more appealing than all this are the artists themselves. Yes, they try and sell everything to you, but the moment you buy something very small and show them that you love their art, they open their hearts to you. They joyfully show you their masterpieces even though they know you are in absolutely no position to buy them. They truly are artists, showing you their work just … [Read more...]
The FERRY
I had been on a ferry before - to Essel World. I knew all about ferries, I thought. In any case, what was to know? Five hundred people on a boat that could accommodate about three hundred, all carrying fish and other things I did not want to identify. That was what we were prepared for.Like vagabonds, having roamed the streets of Bari all day, we reached well in time for our ferry to Greece. We were tired and dirty, waiting to reach Greece and have a much-needed bath.Then we saw the ferry.It was not a ferry in my dictionary. It was not even a ship; it was a SHIP.We felt almost untouchable on that ship, gaping at it with starry eyes. There was a red carpet and an escalator. There were lounges (in the plural), a Mariners' Club, a swimming pool, a gaming zone, 'playland' for children, a cafe, bars...We mustered what confidence we could to get onto the boat like scruffy … [Read more...]
Burggarten, bitte
A lovely lady on the train to Vienna told us we must go see the Burggarten, a rose garden.In our attempt to put to use our practically non-existent German, we greeted an old gentleman on the road and asked him sweetly, "Burggarten, bitte?"He launched into a long speech in German. We listened, nodded appropriately and made polite noises. Once he had finished explaining, we said our 'Danke' and followed him across the road. That much, we had understood.We stood around noting various 'interesting' things around, letting him go ahead. We then discreetly asked someone else.To this day, we wonder what the gentleman explained to us in such great detail. The rose garden was straight ahead. … [Read more...]
Cycle Rickshaw
When I went to Kolkata for my entrance exams, I stayed with a friend's family. The first day there, Uncle took me in a cycle rickshaw. He warned me, "Don't pay more than 8 rupees to these rickshaw-wallahs. They'll charge you anything. They know you don't come from Calcutta."I listened and nodded and cringed as the rickshaw-wallah bumped us over steep slopes and potholes. His lungi was torn. He was barefoot.Uncle dropped me at the university and went home.To get home myself, I diffidently approached a cycle rickshaw. If I knew my way home, I know I would simply have walked. "Golf Green?" I asked, hopefully.The man lowered his eyes. Realising I definitely did not speak Bangla, he said for me in Hindi, "Bees (20) rupaya."I nodded gratefully. I cringed and clenched my hands as he laboured all the way home.When I reached, Uncle asked how much I paid."Eight rupees," I said, … [Read more...]
How do we go to Olympia, please?
My sister and I stood at the little kiosk on the little platform at Patras station. We had our passports, as always, and our Eurail passes and all our money. We knew how to say 'thank you' in Greek, but that was it. We had not heard of Patras until we tried finding cheap ways of getting to Greece.We were seasoned communicators, though, having travelled through Italy with just a few words of Italian. So we went quite confidently to the ticket booth at the station to find out what our options were. We wanted to go to Olympia and to Delphi, but as students on a crazily low budget, we needed to consider carefully.Armed with clear speech and hopeful-friendly smiles, we asked the gentlemen at the kiosk, "Hello, how do we get to Olympia?"Utter silence.My sister and I exchanged glances. Non-communication was not new to us. How could we ask it better?Before we could figure it out, the … [Read more...]