Every single fight in the world can be torn down to -
" I am right and you are wrong."
Incredible. The wreck of the ego.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Incredible
The strangest things are happening.
Absolutely strangest.
So strange, that I don't think I can blog about it.
Yet.
Oh, save me.
Absolutely strangest.
So strange, that I don't think I can blog about it.
Yet.
Oh, save me.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Movie Watchin'
Another 20 something hours in the plane. I saw some movies I should have seen a dozen years ago.
1. Blood Diamond - Liked it a lot. Leonardo continues to impress.
2. Charlie and the chocolate factory - Tim Burton is the man. And so is Roald Dahl. As is Johnnie Depp.
3. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - Randomly saw it again. In preparation for the new movie coming in the next week. Potter-time, yea.
4. Phantom of the Opera. Now I know why this movie is usually in most lists of best movies ever. Plus, love the soundtrack.
1. Blood Diamond - Liked it a lot. Leonardo continues to impress.
2. Charlie and the chocolate factory - Tim Burton is the man. And so is Roald Dahl. As is Johnnie Depp.
3. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - Randomly saw it again. In preparation for the new movie coming in the next week. Potter-time, yea.
4. Phantom of the Opera. Now I know why this movie is usually in most lists of best movies ever. Plus, love the soundtrack.
The Vikas Connection
A couple of weeks ago, I met an old, old friend from college days, Mr Sai Vikas Munipalle. He's a legend. There are books written about him. I wont forget the first time I met him in class. He shrunk up on me and said, hey, can we exchange topics for the Economics project?
I was amused. I said no.
Vikas was the guy who jumped out of his skin if a girl so much as touched his arm. He looked at women as if they were aliens. He also didn't drink, or swear, or smoke. That was in the first year, of course.
Three years later - Vikas had long hair, played drums for three bands, cursed like a professional rock-star, had an impressive beer belly, was the joker of the classroom, and one of the most popular people in college.
I was always fond of him, like an older sister, I was especially proud of the long hair. In the harsh summer of Bombay in our second year, when he was whining about wanting to go bald, I displayed my eternal zen wisdom and told him to keep his hair on.
Anyway, after college, with a strange twist of fate, I landed up with a job in Vikas' home city - Hyderabad, while he went on to take on a photographer's job with Time Out, Mumbai.
Two weeks ago, we met, after probably two years. His long hair is gone. He has a funny moustache-beard thingy, which makes him look like some Spanish don. Or something.
But he's still the same boy I used to bully and still has the same retarded laugh. We caught up on old times, and I didn't care to tell him much about the new me. He'd known me in my beer guzzling, pot-smoking, rock-n-roll days, and couldn't really believe I wasn't drinking anymore.
I briefly mentioned yoga, and the ashram.
Later, he dropped me home, and when he stepped into my room, he noticed a photograph of Sadhguru, and said, hey, I know that dude. I was amazed. Vikas and Sadhguru? No way.
Turns out, his mother is a seeker and follows Sadhguru's path. I was thrilled. Promised him that I would go visit his mother.
Today, aunty called me. She's excited to meet me as much as I am to see her. And then she mentions that I should not come between 4:00pm and 6:00pm which is when she has her drawing and painting class for children.
And I'm like... What? Really? Please let me attend! Drawing class with a bunch of kids! Especially since I've recently started painting myself! Definitely more fun than sitting at home and staring at my Google Reader feeds.
So yea. I have a date tomorrow. And I'm going armed with my watercolours and paintbrushes. Woohooo.
Ps: This is Vikas et moi about 5 years ago.
I was amused. I said no.
Vikas was the guy who jumped out of his skin if a girl so much as touched his arm. He looked at women as if they were aliens. He also didn't drink, or swear, or smoke. That was in the first year, of course.
Three years later - Vikas had long hair, played drums for three bands, cursed like a professional rock-star, had an impressive beer belly, was the joker of the classroom, and one of the most popular people in college.
I was always fond of him, like an older sister, I was especially proud of the long hair. In the harsh summer of Bombay in our second year, when he was whining about wanting to go bald, I displayed my eternal zen wisdom and told him to keep his hair on.
Anyway, after college, with a strange twist of fate, I landed up with a job in Vikas' home city - Hyderabad, while he went on to take on a photographer's job with Time Out, Mumbai.
Two weeks ago, we met, after probably two years. His long hair is gone. He has a funny moustache-beard thingy, which makes him look like some Spanish don. Or something.
But he's still the same boy I used to bully and still has the same retarded laugh. We caught up on old times, and I didn't care to tell him much about the new me. He'd known me in my beer guzzling, pot-smoking, rock-n-roll days, and couldn't really believe I wasn't drinking anymore.
I briefly mentioned yoga, and the ashram.
Later, he dropped me home, and when he stepped into my room, he noticed a photograph of Sadhguru, and said, hey, I know that dude. I was amazed. Vikas and Sadhguru? No way.
Turns out, his mother is a seeker and follows Sadhguru's path. I was thrilled. Promised him that I would go visit his mother.
Today, aunty called me. She's excited to meet me as much as I am to see her. And then she mentions that I should not come between 4:00pm and 6:00pm which is when she has her drawing and painting class for children.
And I'm like... What? Really? Please let me attend! Drawing class with a bunch of kids! Especially since I've recently started painting myself! Definitely more fun than sitting at home and staring at my Google Reader feeds.
So yea. I have a date tomorrow. And I'm going armed with my watercolours and paintbrushes. Woohooo.
Ps: This is Vikas et moi about 5 years ago.
Project 50
Happy to announce, inspired by brave efforts of Mr.BananaFish, who's taken a blood oath to churn out a 100 blog posts in ze month of November 2008, I will follow suit and pant and aim to hit 50 blog posts before end of November.
It's possible. I'm done with 15, and have 35 to go in 16 days. So be warned.
It's possible. I'm done with 15, and have 35 to go in 16 days. So be warned.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Horror-scopied
Venus in line with Saturn! You will come across unexpected good luck at work. You will travel to an exotic destination! You will encounter a long forgotten friend! The moon is at a 43 degree angle with Pluto! Your skin will take on a moonlight glow!
Such a pile of seaweed.
"Too much attention is being paid to other planets. It's time we paid attention to this planet, after all, how this planet is will decide the quality of our lives."
Such a pile of seaweed.
"Too much attention is being paid to other planets. It's time we paid attention to this planet, after all, how this planet is will decide the quality of our lives."
A fable
I just read a news-story. I'm not going to give you a link, I'm going to tell you the story:
Kassie Neou was a Cambodian, who was in a Khmer Rouge torture chamber. Likely to be killed soon. Tortured everyday. Guarded by teenagers.
He used to tell stories night after night, sometimes exhausted and bloody from a day of beatings and interrogation, to the teenagers guards - one shift after another. They used to be delighted with the stories - Kassie was lucky he knew Aesop's Fables by heart.
Then came the night when the prisoners were roped together and marched from the building to be killed. Over the loud squeaking of their leg irons, Kassie heard the voice of one of the 13-year old guards pointing to him and saying "I need him. Quick pull him out!"
One of the guards hid him, holding a finger to his mouth for silence. Another prisoner was roped in his place and Kassie was spared.
Kassie is one of the few suriviors of this period of the Khmer Rouge years, where driven by a radical Maoist philosophy that quickly slid into madness, the Khmer Rouge Government turned on its own people, and killed perhaps more than one million Cambodians.
Kassie, was spared. But he was beated day after day and he said he memorized the faces of his torturers, sustaining himself with thoughts of revenge. He swore that when his time came, he would take revenge five times worse than what they were going to him. He was filled with anger and hatred.
Three years later, when finally the Khmer Rouge Government collapsed, Kassie was among hundreds of thousands of people flooding into Thailand. He was at a refugee camp, and over there, he recognized one of his torturers, a young man called Comrade Han.
When they saw each other, Comrade Han turned completely pale and began to shake. Kassie casually asked him, "Oh, when did you arrive?"
Comrade Han could hardly talk because of his fear, but he said "My wife is sick and my baby is dying."
Kassie was one of the few educated people at the camp, and was now working as the administrator of an aid program at the camp. When he saw Comrade Han so scared, and because his baby was dying, Kassie simply took him to a feeding center, arranged for care for his wife and child, and gave him money for cigarettes.
Comrade Han was trembling and had tears in his eyes. He thanked Kassie Neou, who at that moment realized that he'd experienced something stronger than revenge.
Kassie Neou was a Cambodian, who was in a Khmer Rouge torture chamber. Likely to be killed soon. Tortured everyday. Guarded by teenagers.
He used to tell stories night after night, sometimes exhausted and bloody from a day of beatings and interrogation, to the teenagers guards - one shift after another. They used to be delighted with the stories - Kassie was lucky he knew Aesop's Fables by heart.
Then came the night when the prisoners were roped together and marched from the building to be killed. Over the loud squeaking of their leg irons, Kassie heard the voice of one of the 13-year old guards pointing to him and saying "I need him. Quick pull him out!"
One of the guards hid him, holding a finger to his mouth for silence. Another prisoner was roped in his place and Kassie was spared.
Kassie is one of the few suriviors of this period of the Khmer Rouge years, where driven by a radical Maoist philosophy that quickly slid into madness, the Khmer Rouge Government turned on its own people, and killed perhaps more than one million Cambodians.
Kassie, was spared. But he was beated day after day and he said he memorized the faces of his torturers, sustaining himself with thoughts of revenge. He swore that when his time came, he would take revenge five times worse than what they were going to him. He was filled with anger and hatred.
Three years later, when finally the Khmer Rouge Government collapsed, Kassie was among hundreds of thousands of people flooding into Thailand. He was at a refugee camp, and over there, he recognized one of his torturers, a young man called Comrade Han.
When they saw each other, Comrade Han turned completely pale and began to shake. Kassie casually asked him, "Oh, when did you arrive?"
Comrade Han could hardly talk because of his fear, but he said "My wife is sick and my baby is dying."
Kassie was one of the few educated people at the camp, and was now working as the administrator of an aid program at the camp. When he saw Comrade Han so scared, and because his baby was dying, Kassie simply took him to a feeding center, arranged for care for his wife and child, and gave him money for cigarettes.
Comrade Han was trembling and had tears in his eyes. He thanked Kassie Neou, who at that moment realized that he'd experienced something stronger than revenge.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Games I play
Mind disease.
Dis-ease.
You know what that is.
I think you're the cause. And I think you are the remedy.
But the truth is that you're neither. It's just hard to accept. Or remember.
Disease, I said, remember?
Dis-ease.
You know what that is.
I think you're the cause. And I think you are the remedy.
But the truth is that you're neither. It's just hard to accept. Or remember.
Disease, I said, remember?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
SF Diaries - Day 9 - Sin Fest
My last day in the city. And I had a big fat shopping list - thanks to my growing generosity - I spent my last weeks in Hyd asking everyone what they wanted. And landed myself with the said fat list.
I started at 12:00. Finished at 7:00pm.
By 1:30 my bags were full and my arms were hurting. I called a friend who lived nearby, dropped stuff off in his car and went back to continue.
Shop after shop, sometimes seduced, sometimes not. Surprisingly I bought a lot more things for other people than myself.
Had decided to get myself a backpack from Northface. Finally found myself there and instantly fell in love with the brand. Great stuff.
I found myself, after I picked my bag, buying caps, a sweater and then started considering a sleeping bag, a tent, and thermal jackets that I would need if I was climbing the Everest. Had to stop myself. I am likely to go to the Himalayas sometime next year, but the fancy jackets can wait.
Seduced though. And sinful.
Finally finished.at 7:00 pm. My intention had been to finish shopping in two hours and then spend the rest of the day sight-seeing. Fat chance. But yea, I'd managed walking around a lot and took photos of cloudy SF.
When I walked out of the North Face store... I said aloud to myself, Miss Sopariwala, that's it. Enough. Had spent easily 4x more than I should have. And then, I walked past a colourful store. Beautifully decorated. My feet walked in. Didn't even know what it was called.
Slabs of soap, displayed like cakes and pastries. Of all colours and fragrances.
Balls of bath salts.
Spreads of face creams, lotions, displayed like ice-cream. Delicious.
Was fairly innocent until a saleslady came up and asked me if I wanted anything. That's when I began to consider. Oh yea, I actually do want... something... How about shampoos, conditioners, a tub of cream, a face pack, and throw in some slabs of soap.
The guy behind the counter was delighted with my delight and threw in a couple of 'gifts' for me. Some perfume and a ball of bath-salts.
Turns out its a famous brand called LUSH. And they have a store in India, at Bangalore. Woohoo.
My two favourite brands now, North Face and Lush. And that was my sinful last day in SF.
Do you think I feel guilty? Hell, no.
I started at 12:00. Finished at 7:00pm.
By 1:30 my bags were full and my arms were hurting. I called a friend who lived nearby, dropped stuff off in his car and went back to continue.
Shop after shop, sometimes seduced, sometimes not. Surprisingly I bought a lot more things for other people than myself.
Had decided to get myself a backpack from Northface. Finally found myself there and instantly fell in love with the brand. Great stuff.
I found myself, after I picked my bag, buying caps, a sweater and then started considering a sleeping bag, a tent, and thermal jackets that I would need if I was climbing the Everest. Had to stop myself. I am likely to go to the Himalayas sometime next year, but the fancy jackets can wait.
Seduced though. And sinful.
Finally finished.at 7:00 pm. My intention had been to finish shopping in two hours and then spend the rest of the day sight-seeing. Fat chance. But yea, I'd managed walking around a lot and took photos of cloudy SF.
When I walked out of the North Face store... I said aloud to myself, Miss Sopariwala, that's it. Enough. Had spent easily 4x more than I should have. And then, I walked past a colourful store. Beautifully decorated. My feet walked in. Didn't even know what it was called.
Slabs of soap, displayed like cakes and pastries. Of all colours and fragrances.
Balls of bath salts.
Spreads of face creams, lotions, displayed like ice-cream. Delicious.
Was fairly innocent until a saleslady came up and asked me if I wanted anything. That's when I began to consider. Oh yea, I actually do want... something... How about shampoos, conditioners, a tub of cream, a face pack, and throw in some slabs of soap.
The guy behind the counter was delighted with my delight and threw in a couple of 'gifts' for me. Some perfume and a ball of bath-salts.
Turns out its a famous brand called LUSH. And they have a store in India, at Bangalore. Woohoo.
My two favourite brands now, North Face and Lush. And that was my sinful last day in SF.
Do you think I feel guilty? Hell, no.
SF Diaries - Day 8
Thursday. Last three days.
Today, after some awesome meetings at work, I persuaded Maloney to take me out to the city. Left office early, with the blessings of my manager.
By request of L'Afrin, as Maloney calls me, we navigated our way to the Twin Peaks. I'd not heard about the place from others, but had
spent enough time staring at the map of SF to decide that I wanted to see it. So, up the winding roads we went, until we reach the top and saw this.
I was lucky, it wasn't foggy or cloudy, as the weather had been the past few days.
And so, we got a stunning view of the city - the Bay Bridge and the core of the city in this photo. The bright road running the middle of the photo is Market Street.
We got locked out of the car. But managed to open it somehow. Was fun. And then, I visited the public toilet.
It was like a space capsule. You press a button for it to open, and huge door slides across. And its completely space age. You walk
in, there's a huge BIG RED button in the wall. The kind you see in the movies and the kind that set's off the big bad bomb.
It said : Instructions. I pressed it of course. The door shut, with a clank. And a metallic voice gave me step by step instructions about how to use the toilet. Hilarious.
After that, we went down into the city, and found the Filimore. A performance venue where Maloney treated me to a live concert. A punk concert! A band, he said, that was one of his favourites, and hadn't performed in 5 years.
I was excited. The opening band was called Guttermouth.
I quite liked their music. But the winner of that half hour was by far the ongoing nonsense that the vocalist spoke. He was outrageous. At first I thought it was regular behaviour of a puck star - but Maloney said it wasn't so.
He was insulting the crowd. Calling San Fransisco a pile of scumbags. And if anyone spoke back to him, he would point back to him and say something utterly rude. And personal. Like, yea, as of you know what you're talking about, scumbag. You with your funny military hair-cut.
He pulled at them about the fact that law to ban gay marriages was passed. I wish I remembered the words - it was nasty, sensitive, and hilarious.
He was doing a biting-stand-up comedy act, but it was rude. He instigated the crowd, and they started pelting him with coins. It was hilarious. Of course, everyone was in good spirits and most of the audience was roaring with laughter at his ridiculousness.
In between the two bands, I sat down against a wall, and fell asleep. Woke up when the music started again. The big band was Face To Face. The vocalist tried hard to entertain the crowd with a few attempts at being funny, but then gave up and just played music.
A nice night.
Today, after some awesome meetings at work, I persuaded Maloney to take me out to the city. Left office early, with the blessings of my manager.
By request of L'Afrin, as Maloney calls me, we navigated our way to the Twin Peaks. I'd not heard about the place from others, but had
spent enough time staring at the map of SF to decide that I wanted to see it. So, up the winding roads we went, until we reach the top and saw this.I was lucky, it wasn't foggy or cloudy, as the weather had been the past few days.
And so, we got a stunning view of the city - the Bay Bridge and the core of the city in this photo. The bright road running the middle of the photo is Market Street.
We got locked out of the car. But managed to open it somehow. Was fun. And then, I visited the public toilet.
It was like a space capsule. You press a button for it to open, and huge door slides across. And its completely space age. You walk
in, there's a huge BIG RED button in the wall. The kind you see in the movies and the kind that set's off the big bad bomb.It said : Instructions. I pressed it of course. The door shut, with a clank. And a metallic voice gave me step by step instructions about how to use the toilet. Hilarious.
After that, we went down into the city, and found the Filimore. A performance venue where Maloney treated me to a live concert. A punk concert! A band, he said, that was one of his favourites, and hadn't performed in 5 years.
I was excited. The opening band was called Guttermouth.
I quite liked their music. But the winner of that half hour was by far the ongoing nonsense that the vocalist spoke. He was outrageous. At first I thought it was regular behaviour of a puck star - but Maloney said it wasn't so.
He was insulting the crowd. Calling San Fransisco a pile of scumbags. And if anyone spoke back to him, he would point back to him and say something utterly rude. And personal. Like, yea, as of you know what you're talking about, scumbag. You with your funny military hair-cut.
He pulled at them about the fact that law to ban gay marriages was passed. I wish I remembered the words - it was nasty, sensitive, and hilarious.
He was doing a biting-stand-up comedy act, but it was rude. He instigated the crowd, and they started pelting him with coins. It was hilarious. Of course, everyone was in good spirits and most of the audience was roaring with laughter at his ridiculousness.
In between the two bands, I sat down against a wall, and fell asleep. Woke up when the music started again. The big band was Face To Face. The vocalist tried hard to entertain the crowd with a few attempts at being funny, but then gave up and just played music.
A nice night.
SF Diaries - Day 7
Wednesday. Another busy day at work. And well productive.
After work, I found myself on the train to SF again. This time, well armed - with my maps, and a lighter bag. I desperately wanted to make it to Union Square and do some shopping. And especially wanted to go to The North Face store and buy myself a bag.
It was utterly disappointing everyday that the sun went down by 5:00 and it was dark before 6. I reached the Caltrain station on Mountain View at 7:15 and hopped on the train. Halfway down realized I'd bought a wrong ticket. Scary. I didn't want to get off the train to get a new ticket - the next train was an hour later.
Contemplation. I walked around and read that I could buy a zone upgrade ticket on the train. Phew. The next train-official who came by, I told him that I had a wrong ticket and I needed to upgrade my zone. He frowned and asked me for my ticket. I was like darn, he's going to tear my ticket and arrest me. And I don't have my passport.
He scribbled something on my ticket and said, don't worry. If they check, here's my signature. He'd written 'OK to travel upto SF'. He asked a few friendly questions about where I was from, etc. went on.
I got off the train, hopped onto a bus to Union Square and then got off and found the North Face store. It was all lit up. But locked.
Like 99% of all the stores. Disappointment.
But, SF is magical, and I walked around, taking photos, looking at the people, slipping in and out of their big cars, and walking into expensive restaurants and clubs. I was taking a photo at Union Square, and a cab driver, with a thick European accent told me I should use flash lights.
Oh no, I dont like flash I said, smiled and walked on.
Found a big book store - it was open, and packed, but didn't have the book I was looking for, for a friend. Then realized I had 10 minutes to get to my train. Hopped into a cab, and realized it was the same cab driver who had 20-minutes ago told me to use flash lights. We started talking. He had a Nikon D60. He was from Ukraine, and had a lovely accent. We spoke about Google, and
driving in SF. He said I was likely to miss my train. I didn't really care that much. There's always... a solution.
When we reached the station, I paid him, and asked him if he would wait a minute to let me check if the train was gone. I ran in - the train was just getting out of sight. Gone. Next one in an hour. I happily hopped back into the cab and said, take me back into the city! He said, maybe you should wait here for an hour - and I was like, no way am I going to waste an hour of California time at a railway station.
So,
back into the city. Back to seeing musicians playing something outside bars. Back to the sparkling street walk, and the night lights. Walked past a few art galleries, and took photos of paintings on display. From outside. Walked and walked and breathed. And then cab-train-walk home.
After work, I found myself on the train to SF again. This time, well armed - with my maps, and a lighter bag. I desperately wanted to make it to Union Square and do some shopping. And especially wanted to go to The North Face store and buy myself a bag.
It was utterly disappointing everyday that the sun went down by 5:00 and it was dark before 6. I reached the Caltrain station on Mountain View at 7:15 and hopped on the train. Halfway down realized I'd bought a wrong ticket. Scary. I didn't want to get off the train to get a new ticket - the next train was an hour later.
Contemplation. I walked around and read that I could buy a zone upgrade ticket on the train. Phew. The next train-official who came by, I told him that I had a wrong ticket and I needed to upgrade my zone. He frowned and asked me for my ticket. I was like darn, he's going to tear my ticket and arrest me. And I don't have my passport.
He scribbled something on my ticket and said, don't worry. If they check, here's my signature. He'd written 'OK to travel upto SF'. He asked a few friendly questions about where I was from, etc. went on.
I got off the train, hopped onto a bus to Union Square and then got off and found the North Face store. It was all lit up. But locked.
Like 99% of all the stores. Disappointment.
But, SF is magical, and I walked around, taking photos, looking at the people, slipping in and out of their big cars, and walking into expensive restaurants and clubs. I was taking a photo at Union Square, and a cab driver, with a thick European accent told me I should use flash lights.
Oh no, I dont like flash I said, smiled and walked on.
Found a big book store - it was open, and packed, but didn't have the book I was looking for, for a friend. Then realized I had 10 minutes to get to my train. Hopped into a cab, and realized it was the same cab driver who had 20-minutes ago told me to use flash lights. We started talking. He had a Nikon D60. He was from Ukraine, and had a lovely accent. We spoke about Google, and
driving in SF. He said I was likely to miss my train. I didn't really care that much. There's always... a solution.
When we reached the station, I paid him, and asked him if he would wait a minute to let me check if the train was gone. I ran in - the train was just getting out of sight. Gone. Next one in an hour. I happily hopped back into the cab and said, take me back into the city! He said, maybe you should wait here for an hour - and I was like, no way am I going to waste an hour of California time at a railway station.
So,
back into the city. Back to seeing musicians playing something outside bars. Back to the sparkling street walk, and the night lights. Walked past a few art galleries, and took photos of paintings on display. From outside. Walked and walked and breathed. And then cab-train-walk home.
SF Diaries - Day 5 and 6
Day 5:
Monday. Busy day at work. A friend had offered to meet me for dinner in Mountain View, so, I went out early and walked around the streets of MV. Looking for a bookstore.
The first one I walked into, hit me on the head with a fat stick. There was a big huge photo, and a bigger statue of Paramhansa Yogananda. The whole book store was about spirituality, and mystical stuff.
I walked around, and didn't really find anything that I wanted.
There were sections on witchcraft. On native American stuff. I bought a few incense sticks, with exotic fragrances and then left.
My friend ditched. I ate a chocolate cookie for dinner and walked back home.
Day 6:
Election day. The big big day. As I walked to my bus stop in the morning, I walked past a voting centre. There were people standing there holding placards that said = Say No on Proposition 8.
I had seen a ballot sheet at Steven's house. It was interesting. And Proposition 8, of course, the scandalous one that was attempting to ban the legalized marriages of homosexual people in California. I had been a bit astonished to see that the Californian government was trying to ban homosexual marriages. After all, San Francisco had a large homosexual population, and was a place where they lived happily and gayly. I didn't think that the ban would get passed.
The atmosphere on office was electric too. Everyone was talking about it, and everyone was intensely waiting to see how it would turn out.
After work, I didn't have any plans, and so I decided I would go into the city alone. Was slightly impulsive, and instead of going home, dropping my laptop off and then taking a train, I just got onto a bus from Google to SF. It dropped me off at Haight.
It was dark. And chilly. I walked and walked. Felt annoyed that I didn't have my map with me. Ate dinner at a Pakistani restaurant.
The waitress was so pretty (everyone on Haight was so gorgeous). After a while, she came over and said 'I don't know if you're interested, but Obama just won the election.' She looked pleased and went away.
I was thrilled. It had finally happened. I went back onto the street and walked over to Market Street.
There was a new charge on the roads. Kids and teenagers were screaming and chanting from their houses. Cab drivers were honking. I've never heard honking in the US. But this sounded like being back on a busy signal in Hyderabad.
I kept walking. Passed plenty of people, celebrating, handing out Obama stickers, bursting fire-crackers.
Groups of cyclists were riding around, screaming and waving their fists in victory. It was infectious. Everywhere they passed the cab drivers would start the honking all over again. The bars were full - people watching Obama's speech. I had to keep walking. My bag was heavy and I had an hour long walk to the railway station.
Monday. Busy day at work. A friend had offered to meet me for dinner in Mountain View, so, I went out early and walked around the streets of MV. Looking for a bookstore.
The first one I walked into, hit me on the head with a fat stick. There was a big huge photo, and a bigger statue of Paramhansa Yogananda. The whole book store was about spirituality, and mystical stuff.
I walked around, and didn't really find anything that I wanted.
There were sections on witchcraft. On native American stuff. I bought a few incense sticks, with exotic fragrances and then left.
My friend ditched. I ate a chocolate cookie for dinner and walked back home.
Day 6:
Election day. The big big day. As I walked to my bus stop in the morning, I walked past a voting centre. There were people standing there holding placards that said = Say No on Proposition 8.
I had seen a ballot sheet at Steven's house. It was interesting. And Proposition 8, of course, the scandalous one that was attempting to ban the legalized marriages of homosexual people in California. I had been a bit astonished to see that the Californian government was trying to ban homosexual marriages. After all, San Francisco had a large homosexual population, and was a place where they lived happily and gayly. I didn't think that the ban would get passed.
The atmosphere on office was electric too. Everyone was talking about it, and everyone was intensely waiting to see how it would turn out.
After work, I didn't have any plans, and so I decided I would go into the city alone. Was slightly impulsive, and instead of going home, dropping my laptop off and then taking a train, I just got onto a bus from Google to SF. It dropped me off at Haight.
It was dark. And chilly. I walked and walked. Felt annoyed that I didn't have my map with me. Ate dinner at a Pakistani restaurant.
The waitress was so pretty (everyone on Haight was so gorgeous). After a while, she came over and said 'I don't know if you're interested, but Obama just won the election.' She looked pleased and went away.
I was thrilled. It had finally happened. I went back onto the street and walked over to Market Street.
There was a new charge on the roads. Kids and teenagers were screaming and chanting from their houses. Cab drivers were honking. I've never heard honking in the US. But this sounded like being back on a busy signal in Hyderabad.
I kept walking. Passed plenty of people, celebrating, handing out Obama stickers, bursting fire-crackers.
Groups of cyclists were riding around, screaming and waving their fists in victory. It was infectious. Everywhere they passed the cab drivers would start the honking all over again. The bars were full - people watching Obama's speech. I had to keep walking. My bag was heavy and I had an hour long walk to the railway station.
SF Diaries - Day 4 - Big Sur
Sunday. And the sun was out. I definitely had plenty of left-over-from-lasttime sightseeing that I wanted to complete in the city.
But a colleague offered to drive us to Big Sur - and so, that's where we were the whole day.
What a stunning place. As we left the city and the suburbs, and drove into the country side, I saw ranches, and cows, and rolling hills, and then deeper towards the mountains, the fog was appearing. I was slowly getting breathless (with the sights) and our first stop was Pebble Beach.
It was stinking. Of sea weed. But there were millions of birds, kinds I'd never seen before. I took about 400 photos that day.
After pebble beach, we got onto the famous 17-mile drive - which is dotted with fancy resorts, golf courses and has about 21 points which are spectacular view points.
Included mysterious names like 'The Lone Cypress' and 'The Ghost Tree' and China Rocks.
The sea was unruly. Crashing waves. But a gorgeous blue. I can't describe how stunning it was.
After the 17-mile drive, we went on further south, deeper into Big Sur. The trees were
tall. There were mountains on one side, and the sea on the other.
The sun began dipping by about 4:30 and we saw the sunset from a high-up point, overlooking a bridge taking the road deeper into the mountains, they were getting higher and higher and we were overlooking a curvy coast going on for miles.
I felt peaceful and magicked.
Finally, it was dark, and we had reached the heart of Big Sur. There was a national forest there.
Big Sur has a special significance. From my old days.
Let's see how I can explain - Jim Morrison admired a Beat poet called Jack Kerouac. Whose book 'On The Road' I'd read and was blown away by. I own another book my Jack Kerouac. Called Big Sur. Hadn't read it, but I knew that Big Sur had been a place of magic and hippies for generations.
It was freezing by now, and pitch black. We came back out from the mountains to the road along the sea - and I died. The moon was out. Shining and reflecting in the sea. And the stars were in millions.
Nobody else seemed remotely interested, but my heart was aching to stop. I requested one last stop. I'll just be two minutes, I said and I ran out of the car.
The view was breathtaking. The moon, its reflection in the sea, the biting cold wind, and the stars. I couldn't make any pictures, it was too dark.
I just stood there, and looked up at the sky. There was something inside me that was exploding, and I just let it spill out of me.
I tasted what life must have been like in these mountains 40 years ago. The long-haired beautiful hippies, smoking weed, making love and writing poetry. I lived it for a minute.
More photos here.
But a colleague offered to drive us to Big Sur - and so, that's where we were the whole day.
What a stunning place. As we left the city and the suburbs, and drove into the country side, I saw ranches, and cows, and rolling hills, and then deeper towards the mountains, the fog was appearing. I was slowly getting breathless (with the sights) and our first stop was Pebble Beach.
It was stinking. Of sea weed. But there were millions of birds, kinds I'd never seen before. I took about 400 photos that day.
After pebble beach, we got onto the famous 17-mile drive - which is dotted with fancy resorts, golf courses and has about 21 points which are spectacular view points.
Included mysterious names like 'The Lone Cypress' and 'The Ghost Tree' and China Rocks.
The sea was unruly. Crashing waves. But a gorgeous blue. I can't describe how stunning it was.After the 17-mile drive, we went on further south, deeper into Big Sur. The trees were
tall. There were mountains on one side, and the sea on the other.The sun began dipping by about 4:30 and we saw the sunset from a high-up point, overlooking a bridge taking the road deeper into the mountains, they were getting higher and higher and we were overlooking a curvy coast going on for miles.
I felt peaceful and magicked.
Finally, it was dark, and we had reached the heart of Big Sur. There was a national forest there.
Big Sur has a special significance. From my old days.
Let's see how I can explain - Jim Morrison admired a Beat poet called Jack Kerouac. Whose book 'On The Road' I'd read and was blown away by. I own another book my Jack Kerouac. Called Big Sur. Hadn't read it, but I knew that Big Sur had been a place of magic and hippies for generations.
It was freezing by now, and pitch black. We came back out from the mountains to the road along the sea - and I died. The moon was out. Shining and reflecting in the sea. And the stars were in millions.
Nobody else seemed remotely interested, but my heart was aching to stop. I requested one last stop. I'll just be two minutes, I said and I ran out of the car.
The view was breathtaking. The moon, its reflection in the sea, the biting cold wind, and the stars. I couldn't make any pictures, it was too dark.
I just stood there, and looked up at the sky. There was something inside me that was exploding, and I just let it spill out of me.
I tasted what life must have been like in these mountains 40 years ago. The long-haired beautiful hippies, smoking weed, making love and writing poetry. I lived it for a minute.
More photos here.
SF Dairies - Day 1, 2 and 3
Day 1:
Arrived at 3:00pm. Just off the plane from an adventurous but freezing night at London. Was wondering if anyone was to be there to pick me up in the first place. But Steven, a colleague, was there. Smiling and happy. We got into his little black Mini Cooper and zipped away from SFO airport, towards Mountain View.
It's autumn. The trees are colored. The air was edible. So delicious.
I was to stay at some Google corporate apartments, and wow, when we arrived, I spent a good half hour looking at how conveniently designed everything was.
I was exhausted and dirty. I had a lazy bath, and snuggled in for a mini-nap.
Which lasted 5 hours. When I woke up, I realized how stupid I'd been to sleep at 5:00 and wake up at 10:00pm. Now I was wide awake, and stayed up late, blogging about my adventures at London.
Missed a chance to go get some Halloween costume. Darn.
Day 2:
Friday. Halloween.
Woke up, did my yoga, and then took the shuttle to Googleplex. Had breakfast at the famous Charlie's Cafe, and was a little disappointed to see that most people weren't dressed up for Halloween... But then, slowly, the craziness started creeping in - starting with a lady on a table nearby who pulled out a wig from her bag and put in on.
Had a good day at work - and then left early for glimpse of Googleween. It was hilarious. Got some funny pictures. This one was one of my favourite costumes. Sarah Palin and The Joker were the most common costumes, of course.
Then, Steven took us into city, and after a burrito for dinner we hopped into a cab with some friends to go to a pub.
It was crazy. Packed to bursting with people dressed up with the basic intention of taking someone to bed. I wasn't drinking, and after a bit, I left. Took a train back to Mountain View and walked home.
Day 3:
Weekend! Met a Hyderabad friend for a lunch, and we drove to Haight-Ashbury, and I had a bowl full of salad. It was raining. I was thrilled to be at Haight, and then we went to the biggest music store I have seen 'Amoeba' and I bought a couple of DVDs for daddy, per request. And some hippie earrings, per request too.
It was raining and my friend was being sulky, so went back to Mountain View. Not the way I wanted my first Saturday in California to go.
Later, spoke to long-lost soul twin - Nash, who's doing some complicated PhD at St. Louis. Heard some great news and didn't stop beaming for an hour.
Arrived at 3:00pm. Just off the plane from an adventurous but freezing night at London. Was wondering if anyone was to be there to pick me up in the first place. But Steven, a colleague, was there. Smiling and happy. We got into his little black Mini Cooper and zipped away from SFO airport, towards Mountain View.
It's autumn. The trees are colored. The air was edible. So delicious.
I was to stay at some Google corporate apartments, and wow, when we arrived, I spent a good half hour looking at how conveniently designed everything was.
I was exhausted and dirty. I had a lazy bath, and snuggled in for a mini-nap.
Which lasted 5 hours. When I woke up, I realized how stupid I'd been to sleep at 5:00 and wake up at 10:00pm. Now I was wide awake, and stayed up late, blogging about my adventures at London.
Missed a chance to go get some Halloween costume. Darn.
Day 2:
Friday. Halloween.
Woke up, did my yoga, and then took the shuttle to Googleplex. Had breakfast at the famous Charlie's Cafe, and was a little disappointed to see that most people weren't dressed up for Halloween... But then, slowly, the craziness started creeping in - starting with a lady on a table nearby who pulled out a wig from her bag and put in on.
Had a good day at work - and then left early for glimpse of Googleween. It was hilarious. Got some funny pictures. This one was one of my favourite costumes. Sarah Palin and The Joker were the most common costumes, of course.
Then, Steven took us into city, and after a burrito for dinner we hopped into a cab with some friends to go to a pub.
It was crazy. Packed to bursting with people dressed up with the basic intention of taking someone to bed. I wasn't drinking, and after a bit, I left. Took a train back to Mountain View and walked home.
Day 3:
Weekend! Met a Hyderabad friend for a lunch, and we drove to Haight-Ashbury, and I had a bowl full of salad. It was raining. I was thrilled to be at Haight, and then we went to the biggest music store I have seen 'Amoeba' and I bought a couple of DVDs for daddy, per request. And some hippie earrings, per request too.
It was raining and my friend was being sulky, so went back to Mountain View. Not the way I wanted my first Saturday in California to go.
Later, spoke to long-lost soul twin - Nash, who's doing some complicated PhD at St. Louis. Heard some great news and didn't stop beaming for an hour.
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