Seems a pity to start a travelogue like this…But this incident has been the pebble in my shoes ever since it happened that after returning home I was waiting impatiently for the pictures to get downloaded so that I can give vent to my irritation.
We had a brief trip to Milan on the third day of our Europe tour. The tour director gave us 3 hours to visit the Milan Duomo and the surroundings. He told us we would not be able to see the The Last Supper, Da Vinci’s fresco in Santa Maria Delle Grazie since booking had to be done well in advance…like 3 to 4 months prior to visit. They are overbooked thanks to Dan Brown!
Well, we were not disappointed much, for the Duomo di Milano is in itself a magnificent piece of 16th century architecture with its majestic pillars and stained glass windows.
Piazza del Duomo, the central square of Milan is a place where visitors, Italians and pigeons congregate. We were typical tourists wielding cameras and clicked away happily at the base of the imposing statue of Vittorio Emmanuele II.
The thousands of pigeons were a sight to behold and we could see tourists feeding the friendly birds who didn’t baulk at perching on the heads and hands to peck at the corn doled around by some good Samaritans.
My sister Rat, on a whim, went right in their midst and extended her hand…A curious pigeon hovered in the air near her. Soon, Matsy, my niece joined her…More pigeons flocked towards them…A young man approached them and dropped a few kernels into their palms and the birds started eating from their hands…Soon I too joined them. The man now put a few kernels on my sister’s head and the birds flew up and perched on her head.
She started shrieking and shooed them away…The birds flew away…but the young man did not. He demanded money. We gave him 2 euros…he started off menacingly in Italian and demanded 5 Euros. We refused…but soon he was joined by three more youngsters who surrounded us threateningly. We had to shell out 5 euros.
Later on we came to know from others that actually for 2 Euros, they take your picture feeding the birds…and we, we were victims of an Italian con…er…corn…job!
Friday, April 06, 2007
THE EUROPEAN FOOD EXPERIENCE
Should we eat to live or live to eat? My husband asked me before our Europe trip when I expressed my doubt about the food we might…or might not…get there. We are going to visit places….food should not be a stumbling block in this great trip. Fine, I decided. I shall not crib. I am not very fussy about food. In fact, in my pre-marriage days I was famous for eating anything served without any comment. But, I am a strict vegetarian and hence my apprehensions about the food facilities on tour.
Well, I must say it was not unpleasant at all. Though I do feel that I have eaten my lifetime quota of Pizza Margueritas in the 3 days we stayed in Rome.
We used to have a very filling continental breakfast in the hotels we were put up and one Indian meal a day.
In Lucerne we dined at La Alpine, an Indian restaurant. We were exhausted by the 3 flights we had taken in 24 hours and didn’t notice much the first night there. On the second night, I noticed some Swiss customers. I came to know that there was a good Swiss clientele for Indian food. The place had a very ethnic Indian touch. Food was good.
At Mt. Titlis, we were given a buffet lunch at the restaurant on top. There was hot soup to thaw your frozen body that had been exposed to the -15 degrees temp. and the snow fall outside! There was a funny combination of Indian dishes…but hot, steaming food was welcome and they even had ice creams and fruits for the adventurous!
In Dijon, we went to a Taiwanese restaurant. As Girish Agraval, the tour director, put it, it was a new experience for both the restaurant and for us! For the first time, they were serving Chinese vegetarian dishes. Well… I found the boiled ( without salt) string beans and bean sprouts edible only after dousing it with some chilli flakes and mixing it with some ready made yoghurt they had given. The spring rolls were too oily. I liked their noodles, though.
At Milan, eating in the Autogrill was a disturbing experience. For one, the place was crowded and no one had time to confirm to us that what they had slapped onto our tray was actually vegetarian stuff. It looked quite doubtful. I ended up eating just the French fries and salad.
In Paris, we were taken to a restaurant called Rama, run by a gujju family who are residents of Paris since 23 years. The proprietress Sheetal ‘behn’ was an energetic woman hurrying from table to table serving home made rotis and daal. Her Aloo Muttar simply melted in the mouth. Only one problem- she gave only one katori per person which didn’t go very well with our North Indian tour-mates who wanted another each for raita…which was flatly and loudly refused. The next evening, her no- nonsense daughter Deepa was helping around. With her British accent and high heeled boots, she gave an exotic touch to the traditional settings inside ‘Rama’.
We had pizzas Marguerita throughout our stay in Rome. On the first evening, we decided to look up a restaurant called Maharajah suggested by Girish. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t open till 7.30 and we were in a hurry. We got into another place run by a Kashmiri Indian with a Nepalese waiter. The ambience was grand…food was minimal in helpings and the bill was atrociously high. We paid 60 Euros for the meal and the ambience. This is what happens when you don’t remember to be Roman when in Rome!
Then there was the in-flight food… well…nothing to write home about. It seems we have to specify that we want ‘Indian Vegetarian’ to get something that we will find edible… ‘Asian Vegetarian’ may not be of much help!
We had the most heavenly experience in Mumbai…We had our connecting flight to Dubai only in the evening, so we spent the day with RP’s cousin Raja. Hmmm! The day started with filter coffee. That put life back into me. Then followed a breakfast that warmed the cockles of my vegetarian heart! Steaming idlis with Sambhar and ‘gun powder’! Do you know what idlis smell like while being steamed? They smell like heaven…Believe me…I know.
Well, I must say it was not unpleasant at all. Though I do feel that I have eaten my lifetime quota of Pizza Margueritas in the 3 days we stayed in Rome.
We used to have a very filling continental breakfast in the hotels we were put up and one Indian meal a day.
In Lucerne we dined at La Alpine, an Indian restaurant. We were exhausted by the 3 flights we had taken in 24 hours and didn’t notice much the first night there. On the second night, I noticed some Swiss customers. I came to know that there was a good Swiss clientele for Indian food. The place had a very ethnic Indian touch. Food was good.
At Mt. Titlis, we were given a buffet lunch at the restaurant on top. There was hot soup to thaw your frozen body that had been exposed to the -15 degrees temp. and the snow fall outside! There was a funny combination of Indian dishes…but hot, steaming food was welcome and they even had ice creams and fruits for the adventurous!
In Dijon, we went to a Taiwanese restaurant. As Girish Agraval, the tour director, put it, it was a new experience for both the restaurant and for us! For the first time, they were serving Chinese vegetarian dishes. Well… I found the boiled ( without salt) string beans and bean sprouts edible only after dousing it with some chilli flakes and mixing it with some ready made yoghurt they had given. The spring rolls were too oily. I liked their noodles, though.
At Milan, eating in the Autogrill was a disturbing experience. For one, the place was crowded and no one had time to confirm to us that what they had slapped onto our tray was actually vegetarian stuff. It looked quite doubtful. I ended up eating just the French fries and salad.
In Paris, we were taken to a restaurant called Rama, run by a gujju family who are residents of Paris since 23 years. The proprietress Sheetal ‘behn’ was an energetic woman hurrying from table to table serving home made rotis and daal. Her Aloo Muttar simply melted in the mouth. Only one problem- she gave only one katori per person which didn’t go very well with our North Indian tour-mates who wanted another each for raita…which was flatly and loudly refused. The next evening, her no- nonsense daughter Deepa was helping around. With her British accent and high heeled boots, she gave an exotic touch to the traditional settings inside ‘Rama’.
We had pizzas Marguerita throughout our stay in Rome. On the first evening, we decided to look up a restaurant called Maharajah suggested by Girish. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t open till 7.30 and we were in a hurry. We got into another place run by a Kashmiri Indian with a Nepalese waiter. The ambience was grand…food was minimal in helpings and the bill was atrociously high. We paid 60 Euros for the meal and the ambience. This is what happens when you don’t remember to be Roman when in Rome!
Then there was the in-flight food… well…nothing to write home about. It seems we have to specify that we want ‘Indian Vegetarian’ to get something that we will find edible… ‘Asian Vegetarian’ may not be of much help!
We had the most heavenly experience in Mumbai…We had our connecting flight to Dubai only in the evening, so we spent the day with RP’s cousin Raja. Hmmm! The day started with filter coffee. That put life back into me. Then followed a breakfast that warmed the cockles of my vegetarian heart! Steaming idlis with Sambhar and ‘gun powder’! Do you know what idlis smell like while being steamed? They smell like heaven…Believe me…I know.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
HOME SWEET HOME…
Am back
After six take-offs
After seven touchdowns,
After literally living in a coach,
With three dozen strangers,
With a heart full of memories,
Some good, some bad and some,
'Abso-blooming-lutely' ugly!
Am back
With baggage filled with knickknacks,
And loads and loads of dirty clothes,
With a body and mind
Frantically trying to adjust to
Vagaries of time zones and cultures,
With fingers itching to record all,
That the mind has stored …
In its random memory!
Ten days
Ten times twenty four hours,
Of check-ins, check outs, check posts,
Flight crew, announcements,
Immigration, filling forms, scanners,
Trolleys, officials, green channels,
Ahlans, dankens, bon jours, mercis,
Grazies, ciaos and arrivedercis…
And most amazingly,
Smiles- the proxy interpreters!
A Jigsaw
Of thousand and some pieces
That lay scattered in my heart,
Of people, places, memories,
Of attitudes, alien habits,
Of curios, and the curious,
Of fear and anxiety,
Of joy when dreams come true,
And the keystone that held it all together,
The longing for a land familiar and…
Of unconditional safety!
Oh… UAE!
Try as I might, I cannot but exult
That I have returned home safe and sound!
I never thought, as an expatriate,
I’d say so openly…so gratefully,
But, as the two wheels touched your soil,
Loyalty to my homeland notwithstanding,
My heart murmured…in all sincerity,
Home…Sweet…Home!
After six take-offs
After seven touchdowns,
After literally living in a coach,
With three dozen strangers,
With a heart full of memories,
Some good, some bad and some,
'Abso-blooming-lutely' ugly!
Am back
With baggage filled with knickknacks,
And loads and loads of dirty clothes,
With a body and mind
Frantically trying to adjust to
Vagaries of time zones and cultures,
With fingers itching to record all,
That the mind has stored …
In its random memory!
Ten days
Ten times twenty four hours,
Of check-ins, check outs, check posts,
Flight crew, announcements,
Immigration, filling forms, scanners,
Trolleys, officials, green channels,
Ahlans, dankens, bon jours, mercis,
Grazies, ciaos and arrivedercis…
And most amazingly,
Smiles- the proxy interpreters!
A Jigsaw
Of thousand and some pieces
That lay scattered in my heart,
Of people, places, memories,
Of attitudes, alien habits,
Of curios, and the curious,
Of fear and anxiety,
Of joy when dreams come true,
And the keystone that held it all together,
The longing for a land familiar and…
Of unconditional safety!
Oh… UAE!
Try as I might, I cannot but exult
That I have returned home safe and sound!
I never thought, as an expatriate,
I’d say so openly…so gratefully,
But, as the two wheels touched your soil,
Loyalty to my homeland notwithstanding,
My heart murmured…in all sincerity,
Home…Sweet…Home!
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