Friday 20 July, 2007
Monday 16 July, 2007
Sunday 15 July, 2007
Grande
Whereas, Grande in English, means something impressive and magnificent, it simply means Big in French. Hence, while a small Coke, is mois Coke, its opposite - a Large Coke, is Grand Coke. Simple enough.
But the French have it in them , for being flashy and classy. As a result, when they decide to do something Big, its Grand nonetheless.
Yesterday, was July 14 - the day, when the French Revolution began - way back in 1774, by storming the then prision - Bastille . Til today, 14th is remembered and celebrated as Bastille Day. The morning has the usual Army Parade. Well, I would have called it, the French equivalent of 15th August Parade, but it has actual Army Jets flying about & not being carried atop army tanks, as a exhibiion. As I hear, these, Jets actually fly at near ground level, along the Champs Elysees. I don't think, we ever do that.
Similarly, later in the evening, there is a fireworks show at Eiffel Tower and its, well, Grand! I haven't seen - 4th of July fireworks, but I don't think, they can get much bigger than 40 minutes of a colour splattered sky. I haven't seen so many people on the streets either. It was actually crowded and I was loving it. With less than a week to go, I couldn't a better last Saturday. There was a proper feast on the streets of Paris. People were in readiness of the fireworks. Locals, were more relaxed - had beers and wines handy, packed their picnic dinners, comfortable and portable chairs out. There can't be a more romantic dinner, than by the Seine on lush greens, as fireworks celebrate overhead. No one minds, the milling crowds at such times, anyway.
On similar lines, Paris has other Grand landmarks. The Grande Arch at La Defense, seems to be created for no particular purpose - Just for Fun!. But once, they set at doing it - they made it so Grande - that I am sure that the whole of English couldn't come up with a better suited word for it, than well, Grand. Its in the middle off nowhere - but has the view of over 3 kms. from La Defense to Etoile to the Concorde - all along the Champs Elysees. For trivia, the road from Grande Arch to Etoile - is named Rue de Grand Army.
But the French have it in them , for being flashy and classy. As a result, when they decide to do something Big, its Grand nonetheless.
Yesterday, was July 14 - the day, when the French Revolution began - way back in 1774, by storming the then prision - Bastille . Til today, 14th is remembered and celebrated as Bastille Day. The morning has the usual Army Parade. Well, I would have called it, the French equivalent of 15th August Parade, but it has actual Army Jets flying about & not being carried atop army tanks, as a exhibiion. As I hear, these, Jets actually fly at near ground level, along the Champs Elysees. I don't think, we ever do that.
Similarly, later in the evening, there is a fireworks show at Eiffel Tower and its, well, Grand! I haven't seen - 4th of July fireworks, but I don't think, they can get much bigger than 40 minutes of a colour splattered sky. I haven't seen so many people on the streets either. It was actually crowded and I was loving it. With less than a week to go, I couldn't a better last Saturday. There was a proper feast on the streets of Paris. People were in readiness of the fireworks. Locals, were more relaxed - had beers and wines handy, packed their picnic dinners, comfortable and portable chairs out. There can't be a more romantic dinner, than by the Seine on lush greens, as fireworks celebrate overhead. No one minds, the milling crowds at such times, anyway.
On similar lines, Paris has other Grand landmarks. The Grande Arch at La Defense, seems to be created for no particular purpose - Just for Fun!. But once, they set at doing it - they made it so Grande - that I am sure that the whole of English couldn't come up with a better suited word for it, than well, Grand. Its in the middle off nowhere - but has the view of over 3 kms. from La Defense to Etoile to the Concorde - all along the Champs Elysees. For trivia, the road from Grande Arch to Etoile - is named Rue de Grand Army.
Wednesday 11 July, 2007
:D
I don't know how JKR got it so right, but when your worst memories and fears are being relived, when you feel demented beyond hope, when all charms fail (basically, you get the point ...), a chocolate can cheer you up!
I wasn't having my soul sucked out but when Stephane came and offered me some chocolates, that a belgian visitor had brought, I took two and am happy.
I wasn't having my soul sucked out but when Stephane came and offered me some chocolates, that a belgian visitor had brought, I took two and am happy.
Monday 9 July, 2007
Avez-vous su? - 10 St. Sulpice Church
Another 'Da Vinci' Myth-Buster:
More interestingly, patches of the marble inscription have been, chiseled to erase out what they said.
The meridien line materialised by a brass inlay in the pavement of this church is a part of a scientific instrument built here in 18th century. This was done in full agreement with the church authorities by the astronomers in charge of the newly established Paris observatory. They used it for detailing various parameters of earth's orbit.The inlay exists, it leads upto the marble construction with a globe at the top.Contrary to fanciful allegations in a recent best-selling novel, this is not a vestige of a pagan temple. No such temple ever existed in tits place. It was never called Rose-Line. It doesn't conincide with the meridien traced through the middle of Paris Observatory which serves as reference for maps where longitude are measured in degrees east or west of Paris.
Please note that the letters P and S in the small round windows at both ends of the transcept refer to Peter and Sulpice, the patron saints of the church and not to the Priory of Sion.
More interestingly, patches of the marble inscription have been, chiseled to erase out what they said.
Thursday 5 July, 2007
An Intern's Guide to RyanAir
After a 3 way RyanAir journey, here are a few pointers
- RyanAir does give cheap tickets. Be sure to get them.
- All Ryanair flights to Paris, are marked not with the customary '*', but a (BVA). It means that the flights operate out of the Beauvais Airport, not in Paris. Beauvais is a good 100Kms away from Paris center & takes more than an hour to reach from Paris. One of the many side-businesses operated by RyanAir include fleecing passengers by charging an exorbitant 13e single way to transport you from Port Malliot to Beauvais.
- Many Ryanair airports are pretty far from the city, and special conveyance is required to reach the city. All factors included & jokes apart, RyanAir still makes a good bargain. (Interesting to note than - RyanAir calls the Malmö Sturup Airport, in Sweden as the Copenhagen Airport).
- RyanAir prides itself in being on time about 80% of the time! So, if you are making a 3 leg journey, as we did - good chance that atleast 1 flight will be delayed. RyanAir didn't disappoint us by flying more than an hour late from Venice.
- RyanAir flies Europe's chillad public. As a result, its perfectly normal to carry your own bread and butter and chomp on it while flying.
- Expect a rush for Window seats & be sure to grab yours. They try to eke out a few extra euros from a few people by giving them priority boarding, but not many fall for it.
- Interestingly, those who pass the boarding desk first get pushed to a corner in the bus that conveys you to the plane & might not be the first off the bus, onto the flight. An interesting & open, optimisation problem.
- RyanAir has huge operations & handles many Boeings / Airbuses. So those hoping for the joys & thrills of Propeller Jets might be dejected.
- RyanAir makes it publicly known, in the rare event the land perfectly on time. One is supposed to cheer on such occasions. It isn't too bad an idea to cheer, whenever you land -- on the airport, by clapping loudly. There is a good chance the rest on the flight will join the celebration of surviving the flight.
- On a practical note, pay the extra baggage charge to check-in atleast 1 suitcase per group. Stove all the toothPastes, Colognes, Deos on this. When in Rome, dont stink like IITians do!
Tuesday 3 July, 2007
Avez-vous su ? - 9
[The list below, is just compiled for the sake of information & doesn't intend to make any comment on Christianity or Papacy, both of which I hold in regard.]
Vatican Facts :-
1. The St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican where the Pope is famous for making public appearances, isn't the official seat of the Pope. The Basilica of St. John Lateran, located across town in San Giovanni Piazza, is the official ecclesiastical seat of the Pope, as the Bishop of Rome.
2. The St. Peter's Basilica isn't the largest basilica either, though it was when it was built. The Basilica of Our Lady of Peace, in Ivory Coast, built in & closely modeled on St. Peter's is.
3. Medieval times have seen Anti-Popes, cardinals who contested the position and seat of the presiding Pope & whose claims were widely recognised.
4. Wikipedia also lists a handful Sexually-active Popes. While St. Peter, the 1st Pope, was known to be married, its ironic that Pope Innocent VIII had several illegitimate children, so did Pope Pius IV.
Vatican Facts :-
1. The St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican where the Pope is famous for making public appearances, isn't the official seat of the Pope. The Basilica of St. John Lateran, located across town in San Giovanni Piazza, is the official ecclesiastical seat of the Pope, as the Bishop of Rome.
2. The St. Peter's Basilica isn't the largest basilica either, though it was when it was built. The Basilica of Our Lady of Peace, in Ivory Coast, built in & closely modeled on St. Peter's is.
3. Medieval times have seen Anti-Popes, cardinals who contested the position and seat of the presiding Pope & whose claims were widely recognised.
4. Wikipedia also lists a handful Sexually-active Popes. While St. Peter, the 1st Pope, was known to be married, its ironic that Pope Innocent VIII had several illegitimate children, so did Pope Pius IV.
Wednesday 27 June, 2007
I live on Caffeine
From those, who have seen me strut around in them in Jr. College, to those who have seen me slog a tennis game in IIT, to quite a few others, all have seen me wear one of the many 'I live on Caffeine' T-Shirts I have.
Well, I love my Coffee. I like it both Cold and Hot. Its energetic, anti-dozing, its got a zing, its youthful & generally, makes we wanna drink a few cups more :P.
Also, I never realised, how much blood flowed in my Coffee Stream (I know the lines not mine, but like Coffee - its catchy), & how much sweat it caused to my pocket until I read this article in NYTimes, about things, graduates don't want to hear, about saving. Most of the things, like taxes, television costs, retirement plans, pensions etc. weren't really applicable, but the bottomline, literally, was :
(The nested article, is an earlier one on similar lines).
I quick check on myself, and I realised that I spent as much as 10€, a week on Coffee which amounts to a decent fraction of my salary. While most of 10€, are devoured by the coffee vending machine at INRIA, at 30 cents, it is thankfully, among the cheapest Coffee, one can buy here. The Foyer, where I stay gulps down a few more at 50 cents, while at 1€ a piece, Selecta is the maximum Rip-Off I can afford.
Its tropical, steamy, hot and sinful to buy Coffee, anywhere else in Paris.
Well, I love my Coffee. I like it both Cold and Hot. Its energetic, anti-dozing, its got a zing, its youthful & generally, makes we wanna drink a few cups more :P.
Also, I never realised, how much blood flowed in my Coffee Stream (I know the lines not mine, but like Coffee - its catchy), & how much sweat it caused to my pocket until I read this article in NYTimes, about things, graduates don't want to hear, about saving. Most of the things, like taxes, television costs, retirement plans, pensions etc. weren't really applicable, but the bottomline, literally, was :
¶And, I’m sorry, I’m really serious about this last one: make your own coffee.
(The nested article, is an earlier one on similar lines).
I quick check on myself, and I realised that I spent as much as 10€, a week on Coffee which amounts to a decent fraction of my salary. While most of 10€, are devoured by the coffee vending machine at INRIA, at 30 cents, it is thankfully, among the cheapest Coffee, one can buy here. The Foyer, where I stay gulps down a few more at 50 cents, while at 1€ a piece, Selecta is the maximum Rip-Off I can afford.
Its tropical, steamy, hot and sinful to buy Coffee, anywhere else in Paris.
Tuesday 26 June, 2007
Weekend Roll of Honour
Went to
Geneve - Lausanne - Mt. Titlis on 16th and 17th
Marseilles - Nice - Monaco on 23rd and 24th.
Pics. of Monaco Trip, up!
Geneve - Lausanne - Mt. Titlis on 16th and 17th
Marseilles - Nice - Monaco on 23rd and 24th.
Pics. of Monaco Trip, up!
Monday 25 June, 2007
Knock, Knock!
Madame / Monsieur blah-crappy-blah bonjour... is a typical announcement on SNCF Trains.
(your ears perk at the sound of a familiar word) some-french-crap Station-name (another familiar word, gives you a rude awakening) something S'il Vous Plaît (now yawning..) blah-blah Merci!
(.. and you are left fuming since the only other known french word, that you rightfully expect is missing, Desole!)
Friday 22 June, 2007
To take it to the Streets ...
All those who know me, know that I am no good at art.
Other than a stray painting featuring in the school exhibition or being a part of an overcrowded school chorus group or failed attempts at dancing right from Jr.Kg - well I am mostly been a non-performer - more Fart than Art...
but Jokes apart, I have never been half as decent at it.
I tried beating around the tabla, blowing into the flute and I think, something to do with the harmonium as well, but didn't even last long to call myself - Jack of xyz trade.
IIT changed a few things. Music & Dance scene in IITB is truly wonderful and as a result of it, people engaging in it are looked up to and showered with graceful appreciation. But the image of grumpy teachers who taught me music in school, always lingered over. Whether it was Damle Sir in SES, or Kulkarni Sir at Tabla or some unpleasant BandMaster in school (whose name I never remember, for the same reasons - he is being mentioned here), these teachers unfortunately failed to inspire me. [Again, my lofty self-visualisations are primarily to be blamed, since quite a few good players learnt much, under the same teachers.] Other than a youthful, Table playing Gadre Sir, in school, I never could imagine, myself doing anything these teachers did, at a later point in my life. I gradually took my grudges on other places of Music. Concerts (or televised shows) of Music and exhibitions of art, were never really looked forward too. I hated the whole concept, of liking music because the whole concept, of it being a tapasya, something for which one had to slog hard for, was repulsive.
No one around me, in day-to-day life, was too fascinated by it either. My mom paints real well, but unfortunately, she hasnt had much time to do so, since I took up a lot of it by doing things that I wasn't supposed to be doing or otherwise :P.
Paris, has changed my outlook towards art significantly. Not that I am going to start harping around all of a sudden.
Here, art is for the audience, art is for the street. I was first awestruck, when I heard sweet tunes coming from a metro station, where I found out that a person was playing the accordion ... and well, begging. It is probably, wrong to term it as begging, but essentially, it was same. I was so zapped that I stayed rooted at the spot, for a good 5 minutes, gave him some change & promised to return to hear him play again. I didn't need to.
There are quite a few artists, all over the place, who played as well or better and made their living thus. Not that they would have taken anything less than a decade to master their instrument, not that they weren't well off & not that they appeared remotely disturbed by what they were doing. Artist, come in all shapes and instruments, and each was regarded honourably. I have no idea, how much a person playing on the metro lines makes, but I estimate it to be around 50 euros a day. Similarly, people who sell paintings on the streets of Paris, make real masterpieces. But then, Louvre stocks so many of those anyway, that the lesser known, spill onto the streets :D. Every Friday evening, as the museum opens up for people under 26, numerous kids with sketch books, sit around a exhibit they like and immune to everything else, practice / learn and obv. enjoy!
Similarly, the Fete de la Musique, allowed players to regale others with their art and at the same time get a good stage to perform as well. For some reason, the best of concerts I had seen, never were as inspiring, as these road-side shows. In line, with the more capitalist thumb-rules of customer-satisfaction, these artist first ensure that you completely enjoy their act, appreciate good art and then contribute as it suits you.
On the whole, the package is motivating.
I could rant on and on, but then paris has more art, than I can possibly dream of putting in words and I have more work than the orkut-blog-gmail-y!-buxfer decimated time, I have.
Other than a stray painting featuring in the school exhibition or being a part of an overcrowded school chorus group or failed attempts at dancing right from Jr.Kg - well I am mostly been a non-performer - more Fart than Art...
but Jokes apart, I have never been half as decent at it.
I tried beating around the tabla, blowing into the flute and I think, something to do with the harmonium as well, but didn't even last long to call myself - Jack of xyz trade.
IIT changed a few things. Music & Dance scene in IITB is truly wonderful and as a result of it, people engaging in it are looked up to and showered with graceful appreciation. But the image of grumpy teachers who taught me music in school, always lingered over. Whether it was Damle Sir in SES, or Kulkarni Sir at Tabla or some unpleasant BandMaster in school (whose name I never remember, for the same reasons - he is being mentioned here), these teachers unfortunately failed to inspire me. [Again, my lofty self-visualisations are primarily to be blamed, since quite a few good players learnt much, under the same teachers.] Other than a youthful, Table playing Gadre Sir, in school, I never could imagine, myself doing anything these teachers did, at a later point in my life. I gradually took my grudges on other places of Music. Concerts (or televised shows) of Music and exhibitions of art, were never really looked forward too. I hated the whole concept, of liking music because the whole concept, of it being a tapasya, something for which one had to slog hard for, was repulsive.
No one around me, in day-to-day life, was too fascinated by it either. My mom paints real well, but unfortunately, she hasnt had much time to do so, since I took up a lot of it by doing things that I wasn't supposed to be doing or otherwise :P.
Paris, has changed my outlook towards art significantly. Not that I am going to start harping around all of a sudden.
Here, art is for the audience, art is for the street. I was first awestruck, when I heard sweet tunes coming from a metro station, where I found out that a person was playing the accordion ... and well, begging. It is probably, wrong to term it as begging, but essentially, it was same. I was so zapped that I stayed rooted at the spot, for a good 5 minutes, gave him some change & promised to return to hear him play again. I didn't need to.
There are quite a few artists, all over the place, who played as well or better and made their living thus. Not that they would have taken anything less than a decade to master their instrument, not that they weren't well off & not that they appeared remotely disturbed by what they were doing. Artist, come in all shapes and instruments, and each was regarded honourably. I have no idea, how much a person playing on the metro lines makes, but I estimate it to be around 50 euros a day. Similarly, people who sell paintings on the streets of Paris, make real masterpieces. But then, Louvre stocks so many of those anyway, that the lesser known, spill onto the streets :D. Every Friday evening, as the museum opens up for people under 26, numerous kids with sketch books, sit around a exhibit they like and immune to everything else, practice / learn and obv. enjoy!
Similarly, the Fete de la Musique, allowed players to regale others with their art and at the same time get a good stage to perform as well. For some reason, the best of concerts I had seen, never were as inspiring, as these road-side shows. In line, with the more capitalist thumb-rules of customer-satisfaction, these artist first ensure that you completely enjoy their act, appreciate good art and then contribute as it suits you.
On the whole, the package is motivating.
I could rant on and on, but then paris has more art, than I can possibly dream of putting in words and I have more work than the orkut-blog-gmail-y!-buxfer decimated time, I have.
Thursday 21 June, 2007
Sing On!
Today is Summer Solstice, which means that it is the longest day at every place north of the Equator. While I shall not dwell into 6th standard Geography, it also means that it starts setting early from tomorrow :D
And while, the sun shall go its extra bit today, the world (which means about 340 cities from 110 countries, yet heartwrenchingly excluding India), shall pitch in its extra beats.
Today, as India sleeps, the World shall awake to Life and Music. Grrr.... !
Paris, most of France and many other countries in EU and otherwise, celebrate Fête de la Musique. I am obviously planning on seeing, it and I hope it turns out to be as grand as I imagine it to be. Till then, Google for it and read this. The official french government website is here.
And while, the sun shall go its extra bit today, the world (which means about 340 cities from 110 countries, yet heartwrenchingly excluding India), shall pitch in its extra beats.
Today, as India sleeps, the World shall awake to Life and Music. Grrr.... !
Paris, most of France and many other countries in EU and otherwise, celebrate Fête de la Musique. I am obviously planning on seeing, it and I hope it turns out to be as grand as I imagine it to be. Till then, Google for it and read this. The official french government website is here.
Tuesday 19 June, 2007
Sweating!
Its sweltering in here, and these people never thought of putting any fans in place!
I have a huge heater, in my room & I am sweating just at the sight of it!
Monday 18 June, 2007
Bare Facts!
I was casually chatting with Guillaume, (About to start his Ph.D. - from Grenoble - been to India), when the topic of IITs came up. I told his about IITs in Bombay, Kanpur - when he said he couldn't place Kanpur. I casually remarked - Kanpur is a small city in Northern India, without realising that his next question would stump me!
What is the population of Kanpur?
Looking up, facts - here are a few laid out (& will give you an idea, why the small wasn't in place):
What is the population of Kanpur?
Looking up, facts - here are a few laid out (& will give you an idea, why the small wasn't in place):
| Place | Population in Million |
|---|---|
| Europe | 728 |
| Maharastra | 96.75 |
| France | 64.10 |
| Mumbai | 19.70 |
| The Nedtherlands | 16.57 |
| Ile-de-France | 11.50 |
| Belgium | 10.15 |
| Austria | 8.20 |
| Switzerland | 7.50 |
| Pune | 4.48 |
| Kanpur | 4.18 |
| Paris | 2.15 |
| Amsterdam, Lyon, Zurich, Geneve | < 1 |
Saturday 16 June, 2007
Thursday 14 June, 2007
'The Code is German'
is what Stephane, had to say when he was reading through some code, that was written by others and I was using as a blackbox, in mine.
Look at how beautiful and complete the documentation is done, by the means of comments, to know what I mean. Its actually impressive -- Its German!
Look at how beautiful and complete the documentation is done, by the means of comments, to know what I mean. Its actually impressive -- Its German!
Tuesday 12 June, 2007
Walking from INRIA, back to hostel at 11 in the night, (which is the IITB equivalent of 4 am) on lonely (and as unromantic as Paris, can get) streets of Le Chesnay, there is only 1 person I could possibly miss & if there were words apt for him, that could fit as the Title, I wouldn't be writing this post.
It is very difficult to miss Sangram, when in IITB. He is everywhere. He is running your timetable, He is in your class, He is in your room & He is also in your wing .. arrgh !
But, you do miss him, when you are looking to toss a casual Question Of Life, the Universe and Everything. Sangram is sagely and we have had our arguments about that. But sagely that he his, you can talk to him about Life, Relationships, Love, worldly temptations & if the answer doesn't suit you, safely complain that he has no experience in these matters whatsoever :)
But, interesting while he claims not to have any first hand experience, his thought experiments have taken him great distance. His advice is sought after for its logical flow, correctness, completeness and maximal expressibility. He is one person, who has actually realized that the value of a Rupee is no more than the base metal of as much weight. (The MoV effect :P), yet Sangram is worldly wise and has a epsilon-approximate account of how much each person owes him. He has well and truly realized that the reco. value of a prof. is no more than the knowledge that person can impart and the wisdom he can share. Incidentally, he has also realized that the value of a Visa is no less than the cost of traveling to CST from IITB 4 times and is willing to pay the exact price for it. But since when did, pearls of wisdom (read smell: farts) from this sage, that could transcend the meta-physical require mere Passports and Visas to cross boundaries. Thieves and miscreants could keep all the passports they like.
But on a more realistic plane, Sangram actually has an unparalleled understanding of mankind (note: I say, mankind). He is actually free from the vices and distractions that mingle with the life on a hostelite. Blindly sticking to the axiom, if Sangram doesn't think it right, theres a reason to re-think about it for atleast as long as Sangram has his lunch, will lead you on the correct path. He can not sleep for a few nights in a row, and yet manage to listen through the most boring of all classes! He takes his sleeping hours to another dimension (horizontal) altogether, so that his time is better utilized. Else, if the world and GMKs doesnt require him, he can also sleep between 10h00 and 19h00 in 268 / 269 / 273 / 275 / 276.
Few other will have received as glowing respects as Sangram has: When Anti after running all over the place, found solace with Sangram wrote this blog post.
On the whole,
. I think of Sangram, every morning, when I curse myself for oversleeping, again & again ... & again!
. I think of Sangram, every morning that I have breakfast for the simple reason, that I am having breakfast.
. I think of Sangram not having bath and his common Soap Hypothesis, every morning as I have my bath.
. I think of whether Sangram is watching me through some meta-physical space-time warps, when I shamelessly oogle at the girl in the Bus.
. I think of Sangram, when my prof. eats so fast, that I am the last person to finish on the table.
. I think of Sangram when the French present half-cooked meat with a Bon Jour and tasteless Fish with Bon Apetite.
. I think of Sangram when I have my afternoon cup of coffee.
. I think of Sangram when I feel like hitting someone.
. I think of Sangram & asking him to wake me up when I sleep at my desk.
. I think of Sangram when I code all by myself.
. I think of Sangram waking me up when I sleep at my desk, to find my code done :).
. I think of Sangram when I chat / Orkut / Blog, when I am supposed to code.
. I think of Sangram when my feet stink.
. I think of Sangram when I feel like pulling someone's hair, and the only ones in reach are mine.
. I think of Sangram when I solve Sudoku and watch others stumble over it.
. I think of Sangram when I need petty cash to borrow / ATM card to withdraw money / a canteen account to satiate me.
. I think of Sangram when I have to travel alone.
. I think of Sangram when I am stuck on some arbitrary station in the dead of the night.
. I think of Sangram when I have to walk back from INRIA / Gare des Chantiers, after missing the last bus.
. I think of Sangram when I miss the bus and have no one to blame it on for being stubbornly slow.
. I think of Sangram when I see some shop, exhibiting lovely meat and have no one around who will appreciate it.
. I think of Sangram, when we play cards.
. I think of Sangram when I see handsome engineering.
. I think of Sangram whenever I want to spend my 1st pay (by which I don't mean the May salary) a few years in advance.
. I think of Sangram whenever I see Prakhar.
. I think of Sangram whenever I see a signboard saying Aeroport.
. I think of Sangram whenever I need advice.
. I think of Sangram when its well past 2 in the night, I have no one to talk too and end up writing cranky blog posts.
But its ok! As soon as it is time to close this blog and return back, I shall stop missing him and think of ways of running as far as possible from him >:)
It is very difficult to miss Sangram, when in IITB. He is everywhere. He is running your timetable, He is in your class, He is in your room & He is also in your wing .. arrgh !
But, you do miss him, when you are looking to toss a casual Question Of Life, the Universe and Everything. Sangram is sagely and we have had our arguments about that. But sagely that he his, you can talk to him about Life, Relationships, Love, worldly temptations & if the answer doesn't suit you, safely complain that he has no experience in these matters whatsoever :)
But, interesting while he claims not to have any first hand experience, his thought experiments have taken him great distance. His advice is sought after for its logical flow, correctness, completeness and maximal expressibility. He is one person, who has actually realized that the value of a Rupee is no more than the base metal of as much weight. (The MoV effect :P), yet Sangram is worldly wise and has a epsilon-approximate account of how much each person owes him. He has well and truly realized that the reco. value of a prof. is no more than the knowledge that person can impart and the wisdom he can share. Incidentally, he has also realized that the value of a Visa is no less than the cost of traveling to CST from IITB 4 times and is willing to pay the exact price for it. But since when did, pearls of wisdom (
But on a more realistic plane, Sangram actually has an unparalleled understanding of mankind (note: I say, mankind). He is actually free from the vices and distractions that mingle with the life on a hostelite. Blindly sticking to the axiom, if Sangram doesn't think it right, theres a reason to re-think about it for atleast as long as Sangram has his lunch, will lead you on the correct path. He can not sleep for a few nights in a row, and yet manage to listen through the most boring of all classes! He takes his sleeping hours to another dimension (horizontal) altogether, so that his time is better utilized. Else, if the world and GMKs doesnt require him, he can also sleep between 10h00 and 19h00 in 268 / 269 / 273 / 275 / 276.
Few other will have received as glowing respects as Sangram has: When Anti after running all over the place, found solace with Sangram wrote this blog post.
On the whole,
. I think of Sangram, every morning, when I curse myself for oversleeping, again & again ... & again!
. I think of Sangram, every morning that I have breakfast for the simple reason, that I am having breakfast.
. I think of Sangram not having bath and his common Soap Hypothesis, every morning as I have my bath.
. I think of whether Sangram is watching me through some meta-physical space-time warps, when I shamelessly oogle at the girl in the Bus.
. I think of Sangram, when my prof. eats so fast, that I am the last person to finish on the table.
. I think of Sangram when the French present half-cooked meat with a Bon Jour and tasteless Fish with Bon Apetite.
. I think of Sangram when I have my afternoon cup of coffee.
. I think of Sangram when I feel like hitting someone.
. I think of Sangram & asking him to wake me up when I sleep at my desk.
. I think of Sangram when I code all by myself.
. I think of Sangram waking me up when I sleep at my desk, to find my code done :).
. I think of Sangram when I chat / Orkut / Blog, when I am supposed to code.
. I think of Sangram when my feet stink.
. I think of Sangram when I feel like pulling someone's hair, and the only ones in reach are mine.
. I think of Sangram when I solve Sudoku and watch others stumble over it.
. I think of Sangram when I need petty cash to borrow / ATM card to withdraw money / a canteen account to satiate me.
. I think of Sangram when I have to travel alone.
. I think of Sangram when I am stuck on some arbitrary station in the dead of the night.
. I think of Sangram when I have to walk back from INRIA / Gare des Chantiers, after missing the last bus.
. I think of Sangram when I miss the bus and have no one to blame it on for being stubbornly slow.
. I think of Sangram when I see some shop, exhibiting lovely meat and have no one around who will appreciate it.
. I think of Sangram, when we play cards.
. I think of Sangram when I see handsome engineering.
. I think of Sangram whenever I want to spend my 1st pay (by which I don't mean the May salary) a few years in advance.
. I think of Sangram whenever I see Prakhar.
. I think of Sangram whenever I see a signboard saying Aeroport.
. I think of Sangram whenever I need advice.
. I think of Sangram when its well past 2 in the night, I have no one to talk too and end up writing cranky blog posts.
But its ok! As soon as it is time to close this blog and return back, I shall stop missing him and think of ways of running as far as possible from him >:)
Wednesday 6 June, 2007
Avez-vous su? - 7
Rafael Nadal turned 21, on Sunday.
While he has won, the last 2 French Opens, he hasn't won a Quarter Final match, at any of the other Grand Slams ever!!
This year, he hasn't dropped a single Set and as a write, has broken Carlos Moya's serve, to lead in the 1st set of his, QuarterFinal match.
Federer, on the other hand - has lost 1 set.
Love you, Roger - but the grass shall be greener on the other side of the Channel!
Till then,
Go Rafa!
--
Edit :-
Within minutes, Moya broke Nadal's serve to level 3-3. Seems like some match!
--
Edit :-
Another break, by Nadal - to regain lead 4-3.
--
Edit :-
Rape, Set, Match - 6-4 6-3 6-0 Rafa into the semis!
--
Edit :- Later
Have a look at Nadal's Homepage! It screams of arrogance & self-confidence.
While he has won, the last 2 French Opens, he hasn't won a Quarter Final match, at any of the other Grand Slams ever!!
This year, he hasn't dropped a single Set and as a write, has broken Carlos Moya's serve, to lead in the 1st set of his, QuarterFinal match.
Federer, on the other hand - has lost 1 set.
Love you, Roger - but the grass shall be greener on the other side of the Channel!
Till then,
Go Rafa!
--
Edit :-
Within minutes, Moya broke Nadal's serve to level 3-3. Seems like some match!
--
Edit :-
Another break, by Nadal - to regain lead 4-3.
--
Edit :-
Rape, Set, Match - 6-4 6-3 6-0 Rafa into the semis!
--
Edit :- Later
Have a look at Nadal's Homepage! It screams of arrogance & self-confidence.
Whats in the name?!
I have had complains that remembering the name of the blog is too difficult!
Heres what you do:
1. Go to Google Translate.
2. Type out - I can not speak French - in the text box.
3. Use the translation, remove the spaces, add a trailing .blogspot.com and a preceding http://
4. Reach my blog!
Else, now that you are here - Bookmark it, once and for all!
Heres what you do:
1. Go to Google Translate.
2. Type out - I can not speak French - in the text box.
3. Use the translation, remove the spaces, add a trailing .blogspot.com and a preceding http://
4. Reach my blog!
Else, now that you are here - Bookmark it, once and for all!
Tuesday 5 June, 2007
I Amsterdam
Amsterdam pilot: The One With Amsterdam
Amsterdam is also famous for its red-light district, de Wallen. Window prostitution is legal in the Netherlands at specific places. The red-light district is located in the centre of the city along major canals and is clearly marked on maps.
Centered around the Wallen, but also elsewhere in the city, coffee shops sell cannabis. This is not completely legal but is tolerated when small quantities of cannabis (up to 5 grams) are involved.
: Wikipedia on Amsterdam
History of Holland? Geography of the low-lying states? and to the extent of my patience, Belgian Chocolates???
Whats that?! No one was interested
2nd June -- (Ohh! ya . Happy BDay, Sushant!)
Amsterdam 1x01: The One Where Prakhar Gets Away
7 IITians to catch a 06h55 train on a Saturday morning, after a 5 day weekend from the other side of the not-so-early-rising-Paris-town. What is the probability of success?Thalys happens to be a super-fast-TGV league luxury train. & bloody expensive as well! 15 €, 1 way! Thalys serves the BeNeLux countries, linking them with France and Germany. Hence, almost all of them, start from Gare Du Nord, which is the northern terminus of Paris. As luck would be, Versailles is in the west and Lozere (from where Avin, Maru, Pandey, DJ & a debutant Das, would come) is in the south. Paris dutifuly works 35 hours in the week and no more & doesn't even think of Saturday dawns.
Waking up at 05h20, was a good idea. Not waking up earlier - was a bad idea.
In anticipation, of failing myself - I had cleverly (ya.. rite) shaved and bathed the night before. Out of bed, dot on the 4th snooze, I woke up Prakhar and was ready to roll at 05h28. Prakhar has, by then dutifully taken his place on the comode. The 5 from Lozere, had by now comfortably boarded the train, that would take them to Gare Du Nord - no change. Things didn't really look bright then. Nevertheless, managed to get along with Prakhar onto the 1st bus of the day. [Ohh! Did I mention that Paris prefers to sleep on Saturdays]. Since, it was the premier bus, managed to drain out some guilt, inspite of the fact that the bus wasn't supposed to be caught anyways.
Reached Versailles Chantiers at 05h56. 59 minutes to the departure .
No train from Chantiers, till 06h15. There was only 1 four letter word, I could think off!
Got on to train for Montparnasse - sans arrêt. Some angel removed a few stops. 06h27 touched Montparnasse. As luck would have it, Metro ligne 4, is farthest from the Grand Lines. By farthest, I mean a few hundred metres, involving a 4 lane walker, as well. When your train leaves from another station, 10 stops away from the subway station abt 250 m away, in 20 mins - you know its a long haul and there is only 1 four letter word you can think off! Apparently, Prakhar can't run/ walk/ or even sit for a prolonged stretch. As a result, he was caught napping, literally, when the metro came & sleep walked into it, only to resume his reclining stable state in minutes.
In Metro at 06h35. 20 minutes and counting. 11 odd stops in between.
Now there was this peculiar issue of Prakhar, having to validate his Eurail Pass. Its done, at a SNCF counter. So when we reached the Gare Du Nord, station, I directed Prakhar to the reservation counters of the train and steamed down the station for Thalys at platform number 8, and up the platform for coach 16.
DJ, aka Bahraini, was faithfully waiting at the gate. I managed to catch hold of him. Climbed aboard the train, and within less than 5 minutes, the train left. Closely made it.
& ya! Prakhar didn't. The only time, I was not with him, he managed to miss the train. Everyone, had to obviously, blame me for it!
7 IITians can't do a thing right, at 06h55 on a Saturday.
There was only 1 way, the other 5 made it - Nightout mara!
Amsterdam 1x02: The One With the Beach.
After a lazed out, Thalys journey, we reached Amsterdam Centraal at about 11h00. Clueless, as to what we should do thereafter, we met another Indian, by the name of Abhishek in a nearby Doner, who had slightly better homework than ours. He suggested, that we go to a nearby beach called - Zaandvoort. It was a Topless optional beach, so arriving at a consensus, didn't take long. Eurail entitled us to free travel. We changed trains at Harlem, and were at the beach soon. Meanwhile, we let Prakhar join us.We had nice fun, though most were ill-prepared for getting wet. I, went into the Sea in Jeans and that too the only pair I had on the trip. whatever - who cares :)
Saw a few topless women, my first experience at that. Respected everyones privacy and have no pics!
Left for the city at about 4.
Amsterdam 1x03: The One With the Prostitute
As the night closed in, few other than me, were interested in seeing the city. But none the less, I dragged them across town to Anne Frank House, where the entry fee was a deterrent. Nonetheless walked about 5 kms. around the city, along its canals and so on. Pictures can be found on - http://picasaweb.google.com/shantanugangal/Amsterdam .Soon, the time for the inevitable was upon us. We went to the Red-Light district, which is in the town center and had a look at what Window Prostitution is! Its exactly, what the words mean. There is a window, real girls standing in place of where mannequins should be, and sex is for sale.
Since, drugs in small quantities are for sale, some brownies were bought and consumed. Anyone who had it, said it was mild and doesn't seem like will induce a high. 'Disheartened', subsequent plans were made.
I will keep this really short & skip the details.
1. D11 2. 021 3. D02 4. 014, in that order.
D10 chickened out and D08, along with 032 covered the event.
As the men, narrated stories of their spoils, the joy was apparent.
Amsterdam 1x04: The One Where DJ steals the thunder
It was about 2hrs from the time, he ate the brownies, that DJ got hashed. In front of our eyes, he started flying, hallucinating, felt like a SuperMan, committed brave deeds and apologized for his behavior - all at once. He downed some Orange juice, yet gave clear signs of what was to come. We blessed our stars, that Das and Maru, were still contributing, in controlling DJ.Amsterdam 1x05: The One Where they are down all night.
As we regaled, at DJ behavior, we made our way out of the RedLight area. While, they could clearly have wanted another go, at 50€, it was going to be among the single most expensive 'purchase'.Meanwhile, we tried to find a hostel / hotel, for the night. All the hotels, howsoever costly, were booked. The train station, is closed at 1 in the night and there were no trains, to anywhere after 00h30. The shops, thankfullly (unlike Paris), were in no mood to shut.
And then it hit.
Within a space of 10 minutes, the remaining 4, were down. The only thing, they could think of was either doing something crazy (as DJ continued to do) or sleep. And before, we made any decisions on the arrangements for the night, they were dozing.
The fraternity of the hood, was down and out.
All of them, were wearing similar pull-overs saying Paris.
All of them, had greyish hoods, that covered their heads.
All of them, were heavily doped.
All of them, were sleeping hunched on their bags, on a street in Amsterdam.
Prakhar hadn't bought any such pullover, he didn't have a hood, he wasn't doped, but he slept!
Abhishek and myself, stood guard as the fraternity slept.
It was great fun doing so, but we knew it wasn't a routine practice since people were unabashedly giving us glances, glares and to top it off - people were taking snaps. It didn't seem good. Amsterdam, is no Paris. There is known crime. It was a foreign city. And to make matters worse, we were at the head of the street, from where traffic from the red-light area, spilled onto the street.
It was a good thing : Since there was constant traffic and hence a lesser chance that we would be publicly looted or something alike.
It was a bad thing : Since most of those coming from the prostitutes, were also high on alcohol, if not drugs.
Every adventure in Bombay, seemed way more safer at this time. With 5 people to care for, there was little 2 others could do, in face of an intentional crime. We walked around the bench to keep ourselves warm. We talked to each other, about how vulnerable our position was. We posed for a few pictures. We forbade a few others. It was time, for rush of thoughts and emptiness of mind. It was a time when you had to be responsible for 6 others, as weather induces sleep. It was a time, when thoughts like - 'I did no thing & am up at night', come and have to stoved away, faster than they make you lose your calm. It was the time of my life!
Just after 01h00, 3 cycle-mounted police came up and rounded us. "A fine of 75€, for sleeping on the streets" :O
But since, we were visibly foreigners & they believed us, when we said that all hotels were full. They figured that we weren't miscreants and let us off, after directing us to a few cheap hostel locations, a couple of streets away.
As they moved away, the threat of paying a fine, if caught a second time, clearly loomed large and got everyone moving (each to his capacity). A group of 8, clearly wasted trying to work their way across a new town, isn't a pretty sight.
But we made it to the 1st : No Vacancy. Similar, was the case, with the 2nd & a few more.
At last, a hotel guy, looking at our condition offered us an apartment, at 40€ per head, for a few hours of sleep. It was atleast 1.5 times, as costly compared to what a diligent traveler might end up with. But, there was little squabbling space and we accepted.
The apartment, turned out to be great for 4, which meant that 8 of us, were happy to adjust and slept off on the beds, within minutes.
Amsterdam 1x05: The One With The Morning After
Thankful to be alive, with our passports, Eurail and life intact, we slept till past 9! Incidentally, our apartment, was in the Red Light District as well!While, the rest were back to almost being normal, DJ continued to be a Super Man! :D
Since, visiting museums, wasn't very high on the priority list, we decided to leave Amsterdam for Den Hague, as we could see the famous Dykes (finally, the geography of the Low-lying Nations ;) ), and possibly, the International Court of Justice.
After grabbing a quick bite, we left for The Hague .. Another Day - Another Story - Another Time!
Monday 4 June, 2007
Going 'Dutch'
Back from a weekend in Amsterdam, Den Hague, Rotterdam, Antwerp and almost, Brussels.
While didn't have cover many sightseeing destinations, had a hell of 2 days (& 1 night...phew), with 6 other people.
We 'dutch'ed our Fun, Fears, Travels! Love My Batch.
Watch this space for more.
While didn't have cover many sightseeing destinations, had a hell of 2 days (& 1 night...phew), with 6 other people.
We 'dutch'ed our Fun, Fears, Travels! Love My Batch.
Watch this space for more.
Friday 1 June, 2007
Wednesday 30 May, 2007
May 26 - 29
May 25 - Left Paris for Zurich
May 26 - Saw Zurich, Uetliberg & Rhine Falls. Left for Lausanne
May 27 - Lausanne, Ouchy, EPFL. Left for Interlaken
May 28 - Left for Jungfraujoch. Went till Kleine Shedigg. Got stuck. Managed to come down to Interlaken and miss my connections to Paris.
May 29 - Interlaken - Bern - Lausanne - Paris. Last leg in TGV !
Descriptions later
May 26 - Saw Zurich, Uetliberg & Rhine Falls. Left for Lausanne
May 27 - Lausanne, Ouchy, EPFL. Left for Interlaken
May 28 - Left for Jungfraujoch. Went till Kleine Shedigg. Got stuck. Managed to come down to Interlaken and miss my connections to Paris.
May 29 - Interlaken - Bern - Lausanne - Paris. Last leg in TGV !
Descriptions later
Friday 25 May, 2007
Cooking up Stories - 1
Pranav and Shantanu's Experiments with Cook :
Normally - both try and avoid cooking. And our only claim to fame in the kitchen till today, has been heating the Pizza's in an oven & relishing them to the hearts contents!
Today Pranav's enthu got us as far as the grocery shop - Target 1 reached.
After a lot of brainstorming, we decided that (for confidential reasons) Sauce Napolitaine was better Sauce Sicilian. Pasta - Step 2.
Brought expensive soft bread, to go with the Pasta.
Target - Cheese Sauce :
Grated cheese using a knife, :P added Mirchi Powder for flavour, kept in a plastic container and into the microwave. 2 mins later - container has warped, cheese has mostly evaporated and mirchi powder gives a murderous intent.
Mission Aborted.
As a night sortie, we decide to move on to more achievable targets - Boil Water. Bonus targets - do it incident free :P, detect when the water is boiling appropiately.
5 mins later, speculations of steamy movements are spotted by aerial eyes, on the plains of water. Quickly moving in, Pranav makes an expert manoeuvre to rain down a stream of Oil, on the surface. Bonus targets achieved. Mission Aims updated.
As per instructions, from Wing Men, who have done this operation before, and more specifically Mohammad, the pasta is sliced at exactly at points indicated. The smaller part, as expected falls to ground into boiling water. 2 pairs of eyes, make remote observations as the resistance weakens and softness sets in. Smiling contently, the two make mental note of their c(r)uisine hours.
In a post-op log :
Pasta was well made, although not as tasty. Dollops of pickle had to me made, so that no Italian or for that matter European, would think it was a pasta. A hi5 later, our heroes close another experiment.
Normally - both try and avoid cooking. And our only claim to fame in the kitchen till today, has been heating the Pizza's in an oven & relishing them to the hearts contents!
Today Pranav's enthu got us as far as the grocery shop - Target 1 reached.
After a lot of brainstorming, we decided that (for confidential reasons) Sauce Napolitaine was better Sauce Sicilian. Pasta - Step 2.
Brought expensive soft bread, to go with the Pasta.
Target - Cheese Sauce :
Grated cheese using a knife, :P added Mirchi Powder for flavour, kept in a plastic container and into the microwave. 2 mins later - container has warped, cheese has mostly evaporated and mirchi powder gives a murderous intent.
Mission Aborted.
As a night sortie, we decide to move on to more achievable targets - Boil Water. Bonus targets - do it incident free :P, detect when the water is boiling appropiately.
5 mins later, speculations of steamy movements are spotted by aerial eyes, on the plains of water. Quickly moving in, Pranav makes an expert manoeuvre to rain down a stream of Oil, on the surface. Bonus targets achieved. Mission Aims updated.
As per instructions, from Wing Men, who have done this operation before, and more specifically Mohammad, the pasta is sliced at exactly at points indicated. The smaller part, as expected falls to ground into boiling water. 2 pairs of eyes, make remote observations as the resistance weakens and softness sets in. Smiling contently, the two make mental note of their c(r)uisine hours.
In a post-op log :
Pasta was well made, although not as tasty. Dollops of pickle had to me made, so that no Italian or for that matter European, would think it was a pasta. A hi5 later, our heroes close another experiment.
Tuesday 22 May, 2007
The Hitchhiker's [short] Guide to Paris.
Lesson 1 :-
Scope - Max!
Epilogue - If you succeed, come and finish this book!
--
Edit dated:- 31.05.2007
Got offered a lift, out of nowhere today :D.
Someone was leaving INRIA, late at night, quite like me. Pitied me walking all the way back. Dropped me off half a kilometer. Cheers!
Scope - Max!
Epilogue - If you succeed, come and finish this book!
--
Edit dated:- 31.05.2007
Got offered a lift, out of nowhere today :D.
Someone was leaving INRIA, late at night, quite like me. Pitied me walking all the way back. Dropped me off half a kilometer. Cheers!
Monday 21 May, 2007
Avez-vous su? - 6
80 yrs. ago, to the day - Charles Lindberg became the 1st person to fly a solo, non-stop flight from New York to Paris in the Spirit of St. Louis.
He flew from Roosevelt Airfield (in Garden City, New York) to Le Bourget, Paris in 33.5 hours. He left NY on 20th May 1927, and arrived the next day.
In his words,
His grandson Erik Lindbergh repeated this trip 75 years later in 2002 in 17 hours 17 minutes.
He flew from Roosevelt Airfield (in Garden City, New York) to Le Bourget, Paris in 33.5 hours. He left NY on 20th May 1927, and arrived the next day.
In his words,
I first saw the lights of Paris a little before 10 P.M., or 5 P.M., New York time, and a few minutes later I was circling the Eiffel Tower at an attitude of about four thousand feet.Although he was a decorated hero, later in life - he was accused of AntiSemitism and of being being a Nazi sympathiser.
His grandson Erik Lindbergh repeated this trip 75 years later in 2002 in 17 hours 17 minutes.
Saturday 19 May, 2007
Aeroport
Am having the most amazing time of my life. Aai-Baba had come to Paris, for a short vacation, and left on a guided tour of Europe for the next 9 days. In the 3 days, they were here - there were quite a few incidents :P.
1. Airports and ME !
Apparently, I have an uncanny knack of landing up on the wrong side of Runways. While the Bombay CS Airport incident, where we on the wrong side of the wall, law, airport, runway and the 'line' (of the 'line not to be crossed' fame), all at the same time, might be known to some of you, I continue the same in Firang Land, as well.
Aai Baba were landing on 16th, so I was to pick them at the airport. CDG handles more traffic than BOM, atleast a few times over, but over-confident that I am, I make a lot of mistakes, very frequently. They were landing at 08h10. I woke before the alarm, bathed, dressed, and was out of the hostel at sharp 6am. 06h25 reached Chantiers.
Now I was in a queer situation. Having a Zone 1-4 Pass enabled me to get to the last station before CDG, but not the terminals itself.
Smart that I am, I deduced that it would be a waste buying an additional ticket, and a morning walk from the last station in Zone 4 to the terminal, would help hide the extra cheese calories, so that I appear in shape to Meet my Parents :P
Google Maps, helped me estimate that, I had to walk about 5 kms. So far so good, said the smart me.
07h20 - Parc des Expositions, on time.
Now a short walk was all that was left.
I hit the road. Now since, anyway who wanted to take the train route to CDG, wudnt get down here (except ME, of course, Smart that I am). Anyone, driving to CDG wudn't come to a RER arret. So the road, had no English directions to the aeroport. I trusted my instincts and started walking. With a little help, I was at the walls of CDG at 7:45
. Out of the host of french signboards, I figured out that the one saying Fret Terminal. Since, there were only big trucks going that way, there was no one to confirm directions. Doesn't matter. I was at the Aeroport wall, how far could the terminal be.
I walked, but there was no let-up from the walls of the airports. At 08h20, I finally located a Gas Station attendant, and after a lot of 'Je ne comprends pas.', understood that I was walking towards the Freight Terminal [Hasn't someone warned against, Half Knowledge!].
Never being the one to give-up, I re-traced my steps, until I realised where I had taken the wrong turn, in life. Others wouldn't have any more confidence in their smartness, but I persisted with the head of mine, and steadfastly refused to alight a bus, that would take me. The bus stops, said only 4 stops, how far could it be?
Now Roissy, the suburb that houses CDG, is so bloody far, that the distance between stops, that is about 300m in Paris City, goes up to 1 Km here.
Another long walk later, I reached the terminal, just about 100mins late.
For my parents, their 1st time on foreign soil, was spent in anxious wait for their unreachable Son to turn up. [My phone didn't ring - I Say ... With iPod in my ears, I didn't hear it - My mom contests]. With people from 3 continents, trying to contact me, I had 9 voice messages, with instructions in Francais to retrive them, meaning they were complete, consistent and useless for me.
So here's what the situation actually was -
The walk from the Parc des Exhibitions to CDG, wasn't any less than 11 Kms. I missed a turn, meaning that I walked a 2 Kms - in a direction, and as much back. I landed up on the wrong side, of the runway again!
1. Airports and ME !
Apparently, I have an uncanny knack of landing up on the wrong side of Runways. While the Bombay CS Airport incident, where we on the wrong side of the wall, law, airport, runway and the 'line' (of the 'line not to be crossed' fame), all at the same time, might be known to some of you, I continue the same in Firang Land, as well.
Aai Baba were landing on 16th, so I was to pick them at the airport. CDG handles more traffic than BOM, atleast a few times over, but over-confident that I am, I make a lot of mistakes, very frequently. They were landing at 08h10. I woke before the alarm, bathed, dressed, and was out of the hostel at sharp 6am. 06h25 reached Chantiers.
Now I was in a queer situation. Having a Zone 1-4 Pass enabled me to get to the last station before CDG, but not the terminals itself.
Smart that I am, I deduced that it would be a waste buying an additional ticket, and a morning walk from the last station in Zone 4 to the terminal, would help hide the extra cheese calories, so that I appear in shape to Meet my Parents :P
Google Maps, helped me estimate that, I had to walk about 5 kms. So far so good, said the smart me.
07h20 - Parc des Expositions, on time.
Now a short walk was all that was left.
I hit the road. Now since, anyway who wanted to take the train route to CDG, wudnt get down here (except ME, of course, Smart that I am). Anyone, driving to CDG wudn't come to a RER arret. So the road, had no English directions to the aeroport. I trusted my instincts and started walking. With a little help, I was at the walls of CDG at 7:45
. Out of the host of french signboards, I figured out that the one saying Fret Terminal. Since, there were only big trucks going that way, there was no one to confirm directions. Doesn't matter. I was at the Aeroport wall, how far could the terminal be.I walked, but there was no let-up from the walls of the airports. At 08h20, I finally located a Gas Station attendant, and after a lot of 'Je ne comprends pas.', understood that I was walking towards the Freight Terminal [Hasn't someone warned against, Half Knowledge!].
Never being the one to give-up, I re-traced my steps, until I realised where I had taken the wrong turn, in life. Others wouldn't have any more confidence in their smartness, but I persisted with the head of mine, and steadfastly refused to alight a bus, that would take me. The bus stops, said only 4 stops, how far could it be?
Now Roissy, the suburb that houses CDG, is so bloody far, that the distance between stops, that is about 300m in Paris City, goes up to 1 Km here.
Another long walk later, I reached the terminal, just about 100mins late.
For my parents, their 1st time on foreign soil, was spent in anxious wait for their unreachable Son to turn up. [My phone didn't ring - I Say ... With iPod in my ears, I didn't hear it - My mom contests]. With people from 3 continents, trying to contact me, I had 9 voice messages, with instructions in Francais to retrive them, meaning they were complete, consistent and useless for me.
So here's what the situation actually was -
The walk from the Parc des Exhibitions to CDG, wasn't any less than 11 Kms. I missed a turn, meaning that I walked a 2 Kms - in a direction, and as much back. I landed up on the wrong side, of the runway again!
Tuesday 15 May, 2007
Smug !
Its pretty serene, in Versailles / Le Chesnay / Rocquencourt, at anytime after 21h30 and as a result, I was treading a lonely path on my way back from INRIA to Foyer (I had obviously missed the last bus!). With an iPod, for company, I was walking along the kerbs of the roads :-
Very incidentally, some of the songs that played :)
Its the Time to Disco set the tune for the road. With light rain sprinkling around, there was a pleasant skip in my step. I almost danced.
Mera Joota hain Japani said
Followed by 'Awara Huun' - Ya gardish mein hoon aasmaan ka taara hoon
and sometime thereafter in a feverish of nationalism - Marathi Paul padate pudhe, seemed very apt :P
I sang, as loudly as one can without being arrested for vagrancy, while Paris slept on! With the street for myself, and me for the street - was extremely smug by the time I reached the hostel.
Very incidentally, some of the songs that played :)
Its the Time to Disco set the tune for the road. With light rain sprinkling around, there was a pleasant skip in my step. I almost danced.
Mera Joota hain Japani said
Nikal pade hain khuli sadak par
Apna seena taane -2
Manzil kahan kahan rukna hai
Upar waala jaane -2
Followed by 'Awara Huun' - Ya gardish mein hoon aasmaan ka taara hoon
and sometime thereafter in a feverish of nationalism - Marathi Paul padate pudhe, seemed very apt :P
I sang, as loudly as one can without being arrested for vagrancy, while Paris slept on! With the street for myself, and me for the street - was extremely smug by the time I reached the hostel.
The Cold Saints
& what modern Science still can't explain!
Anyway, over the past few days, weather in Paris has been terribly windy and cold, and for a person like me, it leads to snoozing!
While, the day we landed, 1st May, was bright and sunny, the weather has turned sour over the last weekend. It rains every evening, and is generally cloudy and boring during the whole day.
Talking casually to a Ph.D. here, (again, the only one who manages Anglais), he mentioned something about "Cold Saints". Googling told me that this was the period where days of St.Mamertius, St. Pancras (or St. Pancratius) and St. Gervais, were celebrated and they together (along with a certain Cold Sophie) are known as the Ice Saints. This brief, weather inversion, is particularly well-known in German, Austrian and Swiss folklore. The days from 12th to 15th May, are known to bring in cold-weather across Northern Europe (in Julian Calendar). Germans refer to it as Eisheiligen.
And if this wasn't cold enough, apparently, in Gregorian Calendar, the Ice Saints are celebrated from 19-22 May, and the onset is thus still 4 days away.Brrr ...
No scientific explanation known.
Ref:
1. The ever reliable Wiki
2. Ski-ers Blog Entry 1 and Entry 2
3. McUniverse
Anyway, over the past few days, weather in Paris has been terribly windy and cold, and for a person like me, it leads to snoozing!
While, the day we landed, 1st May, was bright and sunny, the weather has turned sour over the last weekend. It rains every evening, and is generally cloudy and boring during the whole day.
Talking casually to a Ph.D. here, (again, the only one who manages Anglais), he mentioned something about "Cold Saints". Googling told me that this was the period where days of St.Mamertius, St. Pancras (or St. Pancratius) and St. Gervais, were celebrated and they together (along with a certain Cold Sophie) are known as the Ice Saints. This brief, weather inversion, is particularly well-known in German, Austrian and Swiss folklore. The days from 12th to 15th May, are known to bring in cold-weather across Northern Europe (in Julian Calendar). Germans refer to it as Eisheiligen.
And if this wasn't cold enough, apparently, in Gregorian Calendar, the Ice Saints are celebrated from 19-22 May, and the onset is thus still 4 days away.Brrr ...
No scientific explanation known.
Ref:
1. The ever reliable Wiki
2. Ski-ers Blog Entry 1 and Entry 2
3. McUniverse
Friday 11 May, 2007
Thursday 10 May, 2007
Along came Fred!
Since, there are very few people here - who speak Anglais, we have come to talk with Fred, the local postman, who does speak English !
Today, on our way back, we missed the last bus and Along came Fred, in an Opel SUV - that looked all nice and shiny - and offered us a lift back home!
You know you are in a developed country, when something like this happens.
Addendum - Prakhar was so core-dumped by this that he very loudly, said something like - Abe! Ye to saala postman hai before entering the car. Apparently, Fred's from Pondichery, he has been to India - specifically Bombay, New Delhi and Pondichery, his family lives in Bombay and most importantly, understands not only English - but also Hindi! Ahem.
Today, on our way back, we missed the last bus and Along came Fred, in an Opel SUV - that looked all nice and shiny - and offered us a lift back home!
You know you are in a developed country, when something like this happens.
Addendum - Prakhar was so core-dumped by this that he very loudly, said something like - Abe! Ye to saala postman hai before entering the car. Apparently, Fred's from Pondichery, he has been to India - specifically Bombay, New Delhi and Pondichery, his family lives in Bombay and most importantly, understands not only English - but also Hindi! Ahem.
Wednesday 9 May, 2007
Smokin'
Flabergasted by the number of people who smoke here - googled some statistics:
Avg. French person consumes 2,058 cigs. a year, thats abt 6 a day :o
Its worse for Swizterland and Spain, where the number exceeds 2,500 anually per person.
India fares way better in comparision, with only 129 cigs. annually per person - though there is a catch, since about 7 Bidis are sold, behind every cigarette sold in India.
Ref:
1. WHO Stats.
2. http://www.nationmaster.com/graph/hea_tob_cig_con-health-tobacco-cigarette-consumption
--
Edit :- dated 23.5.2007
England Quits Smoking. Keeping fingers crossed.
--
Edit :- dated 01.6.2007
Disturbing US stats from NY Times say that
Avg. French person consumes 2,058 cigs. a year, thats abt 6 a day :o
Its worse for Swizterland and Spain, where the number exceeds 2,500 anually per person.
India fares way better in comparision, with only 129 cigs. annually per person - though there is a catch, since about 7 Bidis are sold, behind every cigarette sold in India.
Ref:
1. WHO Stats.
2. http://www.nationmaster.com/graph/hea_tob_cig_con-health-tobacco-cigarette-consumption
--
Edit :- dated 23.5.2007
England Quits Smoking. Keeping fingers crossed.
--
Edit :- dated 01.6.2007
Disturbing US stats from NY Times say that
- 4.4 Crores Adults smoke
- 4 out of 5, are addicted and can't quite
- 4.4 lakhs smokers die every year
- taking another 50,000 passive smokers.
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