(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...]