A French Wedding

It was a long weekend this past weekend and we were out to celebrate the weather and a wedding - that of S's boss. So it took us to the north of France... We saw the beautiful beaches of Normandy before heading out to the rustic St Dizier near which the wedding was... But while the pretty part of this experience will feature on Citystalkers shortly, I take this time to write about the wedding itself. The card said 4:OO PM to past midnight... I couldn't imagine what we would possibly do for 8 hours.. Until we did and I found out..

4:00 PM: Signing in -So the couple arrived fully dressed exactly at 4:00 to the registrar office where by 4:05, the minister had confirmed that they were not forced into saying oui to one another and they'd signed their contract of marriage.

4:15PM - The ceremony - A few handshakes, a lot of pictures later, the couple and indeed the whole bunch of invitees waded over to the church across the street where the ceremony began. There were a lot of songs and they'd given us each a Program book in which one could find the lyrics of the songs. I took immense pleasure in loudly singing off-key, invoking a few engaging and other mutinous smiles from surrounding people. Within the hour, the vows were taken, the
rings exchanged, the kisses, the flowers, the Wedding March, et al. It was an exercise of sorts for the witnessing public.. The Father made us rise and sit at will and indeed I started debating my decision of wearing the heels that i'd bought for my own big day. And already. The night was yet to unfold.

5:00 PM - Mini party - At the hall of the registrar, was a mini greeting party where people like me who didn't have an inkling as to who the bride and groom were, could be introduced to them. And then came the champagne and the mini-appetizers... things that looked like those things on the Monaco biscuit ads back in India. Having nothing to do makes you hungry and we all eagerly devoured whatever we could lay hands on (whatever veggie in my case) and set out for taking pictures.

We idled... we chatted and we gossipped.. but the time was barely 6:10PM. It was too long to just wait around drinking more n more champagne after all. We decided to explore the countryside. The husband found out about a bar called Moulin Rouge about 10km away and so A, SK, V, S and I set off to 'explore'. As beautiful as it was deserted, we enjoyed a coffee/beer at the bar and then decided to make best of our 1 hour before the formal dinner to take pictures at the mustard fields, near unsuspecting cows and a tiny brook and became one with the nature out there.

8:00 PM - Back at the dinner - The dinner was at a community hall close to the earlier venue and featured beautifully arranged round tables with place names as souveniers. We seated ourselves there and were soon served the first course in our 6+ course menu. And that was the only thing to be served early. Every course following that literally came an hour later in between which there were silly games, a slideshow of the couple's pictures, a few karaoke songs, the couple's first dance soon joined by many other couples. All went great until S decided this was as good a place as any to embarass me... and offered the groom that I would sing for all of them. He then convinced me that singing in front of 30 people was a piece of cake and that I would manage blah blah... Well, if I was going down, so was everyone else. I smoothly convinced all the Indians on our table that we would all sing together. And so what do you know? There we were... rendering It's the time to disco to tumultous applause. Thats not all... guess what happens next? They play the song again and now want to be taught dance steps to it. Put in the centre of the happenings, unable to refuse the 25 odd eager people who'd formed a circle around me to follow my dance steps, I wildly invented. But that wasn't half as strange as seeing everyone repeat the steps I taught. It was crazy. Everyone had a blast... and the DJ proceeded to play Mahi Ve next and off we went inventing steps once more. Bollywood music was a raving hit and the DJ actually ripped our songs to play at other functions. S and I danced for a long while before returning famished for each course after almost an hour. But before long, everything had become a little too much to take. It is especially taboo to leave a party before the bride and groom have cut the cake. And the cake wasn't cut till 1:30 am. And after that came the champagne and the toast and then coffee!

By the time everything was over, I don't know what time it was... because we excused ourselves at 2:30 am. Then we had a long winding drive of 33km in pitch dark to get back to the hotel.

One hell of an experience. And to think that I had unsuspectingly asked S, 'Can't we leave around 10?', we would've not even have made it past the two appetizers. Lol.

The outlet power

Ah... This phrase can have sooo many meanings... But I am quite sure very few really guessed what I intend to write about here... I was watching an episode of Frasier and something that happened in it set off a train of thought... The need to have an outlet... for anything... from drainage to a volcano.. I know it sounds dramatic.... but its requirement in one's life is just that - dramatic. It makes a lot of difference to be able to vent one's feelings to another. And in Frasier, neither Frasier nor his brother Niles are the variety to make too much of their emotions in public. In retrospect, I am not a fan of public bawling either... but some emotions need to be vented... anger, tears, laughter.... I take that back... It is better to vent every feeling but in the right situations... in the privacy of your friend's circle, in the heart of your relationships, all the walls should be able to come down. Thats the mark of security. And anything is better out than in...

I for one have the distinct record of having bawled to my closest friends, sometimes for the stupidest reasons (SM knows what I'm talking about), but usually my tears are those of anger/frustration and I am not flattered by them being mistaken for me being a weak person. Of course when my hormones are sitting on the top shelf, I can weep for stupid TV shows like Sex and the City's last episode. And I literally walk away from brooding/tense situations. A walk and fresh air calms me down like nothing else.. and it helps me see things clearly. Often, the issue is not about making peace with the other person at all... its about making peace with myself. I am less forgiving about myself than about anyone else. I guess thats a Scorpion trait. And everyone deals with things differently. My dad has this really effective yet annoying way of dealing with things. He just stops talking to you. And believe me, its a very harsh punishment. I have barely been at the receiving end... but the once I have been was bad enough. I have tried to be like that.. but have failed miserably. I can't stay 5 minutes without saying something provocative to fuel the argument on... My brother on the other hand has this amazing ability to keep his voice down and controlled even in the tensest situations. For him, its all about the tone and not the pitch. I haven't managed that with any panache either. Gosh, and all this from one episode of Frasier.. They don't say for nothing not to have too much time on your hands. Happy May Day.

Iruvili Kozhambu

This has been my all-time favorite kozhambu of my mom's. And I have never yearned to learn the secret recipe... Until I became a wife and had to think up of new exciting dishes to make everyday. In my defense, I love cooking and experimenting too... And I asked my mom for it and she gave me the recipe. But having the recipe is an entirely different thing than having the final dish made to perfection. I gave it a shot... and it was almost as good as mommy dearest's. So I thought I would be magnanimous and share this simple yet delectable recipe with you all to lend some difference to your taste buds. Its yumm... This pic here doesn't do any justice to the taste of the dish.. but I thought I'd post one anyways...



So here's what you need - (This recipe is for 4 people... adjust accordingly)

For the aracha vizhudhu or the grinding -
1. 1 teaspoon of white rice
2. 2 teaspoons of channa dal (kadalai paruppu)
3. 1/4 teaspoon of methi seeds (vendhiyam)
4. 4-6 dry red chillis
5. 1/2 cup of powdered coconut
6. 1 spoon of oil to fry 1-5 and 1 spoon more to fry 10.
7. 1 cup of buttermilk
For the kozhambu
8. 2 bowls of tamarind juice from squeezed from tamarind roughly the size of a lemon
9. 1/2 cup of chopped tomatoes/ brinjal/ ladies finger/ use your imagination for the thaan (the veggies that go into it)
For the seasoning
10. 1 teaspoon of mustard seeds (kadugu)
11. A pinch of turmeric
12. A pinch of asfoetida
13. 4-5 curry leaves (kadi patha)
and salt to taste.

So how do you go about it?

1. Fry 1-5 using oil and allow it to cool before grinding it in a mixer using sufficient quantity of water for the mixing.
2. Mix the ground paste in the cup of buttermilk and set aside.
3. Meanwhile, start boiling the tamarind juice with the thaan in it.
4. Once it starts boiling, add the turmeric and the asfoetida and let it boil another few seconds.
5. Add in the ground mixture while stirring and let it boil for just a minute before turning the gas off. Additional boiling may result in curdling of the buttermilk.
6. Fry the mustard seeds and the curry leaves separately and add to the kozhambu.

And serve with steamed rice and beans curry....... Delicious! Thanks Amma.

Back to the Basics

I relapsed into many old habits this weekend... I started watching Hell's Kitchen again (on youtube) and I renewed my pledge to the many free TV show links online... And I also got to conference with my best friends from UC... a 3 continent 2 hour conference that left me with a big smile on my face. I also started soaking in on many other TV shows that I had developed a taste for in my last months in the US... Gossip Girl, How I met your mother and some old ones like House and Grey's Anatomy. So apart from the fact that I was glued to the computer for many reasons like TV shows and IPL, I also got to go out quite a bit. The weather was absolutely brilliant and demanded nothing less.. And I also made adai for the first time from scratch and it was a big hit! All in all... not a bad weekend at all! And this week's a short week... Meaning that we are all off from Thursday.. With a trip to look forward to, the flu getting better, everything promises to be great! Happy week, everyone!

Winter Pockets

I have this habit of lapsing into the comfort zone with the winter jackets. I bet I have most of you very confused by now. What I mean is that I tend to dump a lot of my stuff in the usually large pockets of the winter jackets/coats. And because of what they carry, I am reluctant to change jackets till I absolutely need to. Today was one of those days... It was 17 C and sunny and warm and there was no way I could carry off a jacket used for sub-zero temperatures. So I rummaged my closet and pulled out one of my favorite sweaters. But that was the easy part. Then I started emptying the pockets of my erstwhile coat. An assortment of things poured out - coins, ipod, keys, monthly metro card, more loose change, cell phone, bills of a million things bought, grocery list, printout of directions to the post office, student ID card, a pen, and a credit card to name most of them. No wonder the coat weighed a ton and I had assumed it was because of the layers to keep me warm! Gaping at everything, I sorted them out and was left with the tickets, the cell phone and the keys to stuff in my jeans pockets and oh, the ipod. Bulging pockets, a lighter jacket and I was out in the sun to enjoy the brilliant Spring in Paris. Now all I have to do is find dumping ground to lighten my jeans.

Amayadha Naal

I am sure most of us have experienced this phenomenon. Its a vague twist of Murphy's Law. You go out shopping.. you have the money, the mood and the time. But nothing fits. Either the color is wrong or the size is wrong or the style is wrong and just about nothing is perfect. SM used to say this back when we were in San Diego that "love didn't happen". That roughly meant that -"Yeah it fits... yeah its ok.. but is it so great that I need to buy it?" Along the way, I noticed another phenomenon - the adaptation to the prices. Noticed how when you check out something in a new place for the first time you almost always never think its priced right? Either its exorbitant (which is my feeling 99% of the time) or its soo inexpensive that its got to be cheap (that's happened a couple of times too, believe it or not!). But eventually as you settle down to a place, you adapt to the price. And so 40€ boots sound perfectly reasonable. That's what happened to me yesterday. It was evening time... I was done with the cooking and I had about 2 hours before the husband returned. What better time than to visit the nearby shopping strip and take a look? So I went. The prices were reasonable.. the choices plenty but NOTHING fit for the exact same reasons I mentioned above. This was the AMAYADHA NAAL( tamil for the day that doesn't fit right). After 2 hours... 8 pairs of boots.. 2 dresses... 3 skirts and 2 tops later, I left the store.. with nothing.

My star cricketer

Nope... No one from any team on the IPL or anything. This one's reserved for my all time favorite player in whats called the Barclay's National League. Thats the team that my husband plays for here in the weekends. And they take their cricket pretty seriously. All practice and league games and all... So, this match was taking place a little out of the city and so I wasn't joining him for the game. But it turns out that I should've. S turned out to be the star player of the match! So his team, the Indian team scored 189 in a 30 over match which was a decent total. They were up against the Pakistani team in the league. And the Pakistan team got off to a blitzkreig and scored 97 for no loss at the end of 10 overs. S was keeper last season and I thought he still was... my bad. Turns out he was asked to bowl part-time. And guess what? He had them reduced to 130/4 in 20 overs.. all four wickets to S, all caught in the outfield. What seemed like a walk in the park was a game at hand. However the Pakistani team did manage to scrape a victory.. but my man was Man of Match with figures of 5/18 off 6 overs. And looks like the Indian team has now figured out what needs to be done to overcome their counterparts. Good luck to them. But oh, hey S came home with a souvenier too... the ball that won him those wickets. Here's the jubiliant picture...



Am sooo proud of you, my dear! And next match, I am coming :)

Friday Morning Blues

Everyone's heard of Monday Morning Blues... But I think everyone's exaggerating. I think that Friday Morning blues are far harder to get past than the monday counterpart. On Monday, its better if you don't have the blues because you have 5 gruelling days ahead of you whereas its much harder not to have them on Fridays when you know that in afew short hours comes the joy of the weekend. And so, here I am, an hour into work hoping the day just melts away and brings in the ravishing evening ahead. No wonder I am blogging away already...

Cooker Thrills

For anyone who hasn't used the traditional Indian pressure cooker, the tragedies of having a malfunctioning one can't mean much. Especially, if you wasted 4kg of your allowed 20kg into carrying this one piece (alright really 3-4 pieces including the gaskets and the whistle n all) of kitchen utility anticipating it to cook all your dals and chawals just the way it should. But tragedy struck pretty early in our relationship, the cooker and mine. For the cooker just didn't know how to whistle. Neither would he whistle (it had to be a he) nor would he give any warning as he gleefully spewed froth from all directions messing up not just my freshly scrubbed gas... but the walls around it and the minuscule cutting area as well. Not just that, he would slop water all down himself and it would hit the hot plate and burn. It was a mess beyond a mess and it warranted the requirement for a neat round of aluminum foil all around it so that the worst case would be that I took off the dirty foil and put in a fresh one. But this never really worked that great for something would happen to jeaporadize it... and I found myself replacing foil after foil. Especially painful coz I would have to cut openings for the hot plates themselves. It was here that I wistfully recollected that P's pressure pan never once gave us trouble back in Cincinnati. Sick and tried of our ever dwindling relationship and with the rice cooker unable to fulfill any other duty than that of cooking rice (hence the name I guess... duh), I complained to my folks that they'd been tricked ino buying a defective cooker. And instead of sending me replacement gaskets/whistles or valves, they prudently sent me a replacement cooker... which arrived yesterday, complete with spare gaskets, whistles and valves. I tried it out immediately and I have never been happier in our association than when he hissed shrilly and burned nothing.

Next experiment: Put in a new valve/whistle/gasket in the old cooker and try to coax him to function just as well. That way I'll be the only person in the whole of Ile de France with 2 functioning pressure cookers (on a person to cooker ratio)

PS: There's a new entry on the other blog. Check it out if you will.

Bootwatch

Being in Paris and not owning boots seems to be a crime. I have noticed over the past couple of months that everyone (women) and I mean everyone wears boots... With skirts, with jeans, with dresses, with shorts with stockings, without stockings... They are less likely to be wearing a proper jacket/shirt than a pair of boots. They come in all sizes and all lengths and all colours and all sorts of heels with ot without stuff dangling from them. Its fascinating the multipurpose usage that they are put through and finally with the weather warming up a little, I decided I would get myself a pair of boots too that would go fabulously with all my skirts that I soon planned on wearing. But first, I needed to decide what type I was going to get... And hence the bootwatch. I have been observing the women on the street... But the variety is soooo large that all I have been able to decide is that my boots should probably be black (will go with all colors and types of clothes), should not have any heels (flats are the best for your back) and should not be made of leather (poor cows/crocodiles or anything else that they kill to make 'fabric' these days). And I plan on going shopping for them over this week... Of course the main thing I haven't decided is how much of a hole I am going to let this fancy of mine burn my hubby's pocket... Some things are better decided by him I guess. :)

My Travel Blog

I just reinaugrated my new travel blog. It has more pictures than any useful information about THIS place maybe because I live here. :D Visit it here. And do let me know what you think about it..

French Shopping

One more insight into daily life in this country... So, we've all seen shopping carts in stores...

The French stores have these carts as well.. But most people (me included now), tag along a modification of this cart in varied colors, designs, sizes but quintessentially the same...

These are very handy considering that most people here use the public transportation to get across... Not just that... even when the grocery is a few blocks away, carrying back heavy stuff like water or milk cans can be quite a pain. So instead, people tag these along on their shopping trips and stow away stuff while shopping into it and out for checkout and back in to carry home. It really is handy. At first it sort of felt like everyone was lugging a golf club cart or cricket gear but soon you get used to it and once you've realized its convenience, you know that every household in France probably has one/ two of these. Not just that... its more important coz these carts double up as laundry carts, and as carry-anything-heavy carts. It was of big help when we moved into our apartment last month just from a few blocks up... There was no point in getting a moving truck.

Besides another major motivation is that most stores in Paris at least charge you for a sturdy plastic bag, something of the order of 30 cents. thats not much but it does strike you as ridiculous, doesn't it? So after yesterday when I had paid my 3rd 30 cents of the week to lug back stuff home, I finally had the much-awaited clever idea of stashing away 1-2 of these plastic bags in the bag I carry everyday. Some other stores sell you real sturdy bags but at a higher price... And the fact of the matter is that one never remembers to carry along one of those bags especially on impromptu shopping trips when you most need it. Guess the shopping cart wasn't made without reason, huh? Makes me wonder why such a thing wouldn't flourish in a student locality in places like the US where students can't afford cars or don't want to take taxis for the measliest trips. I for one would've been really happy if this had been an option in the pre-SO-car-days when we had to take taxis from Kroger for every grocery trip... This would've definitely been the practical option. Business ideas, anyone? And if it does start appearing in the US, I claim royalty for having made the suggestion first!!

The practical guide to being vegetarian at a French Cafetaria

Carry your own lunch. Just get the bread n extras at the cafetaria. For those who don't understand what am talking about, read this.

i-tune?

I have an ipod shuffle that hubby dearest got me before our wedding. It works for me... I don't see myself watch music videos or any videos at the gym or in transit.. ever. So, this is all I need.. some music in my ears as I hum along, sing along, run along... or whatever. (The husband thinks I should take the PSP - I soooo see myself concentrating on Prince of Persia while train-hopping). In any case, I have noticed a pattern with the ipod... I likely hit FF/Next and jump to the next track on atleast 15 of the 100-odd songs in it. Sometimes its as if the ipod knows.. It plays all those songs I don't want to hear in quick succession. You may ask - why have those songs if you are not going to listen to them... Its a valid question and yet I have no answer... Everytime I repopulate the ipod with songs, invariably I retain most of the unheards as well... I think its a mood-based thing... Like you don't wanna listen to Enigma when you are waiting for the train - time seems to drag (or maybe its just me) and similarly I have explanations like this for every song that I skip. Unbreak my heart makes my mood pensive as does Yevano Oruvan... I can't listen to Say shava shava because its too bric-a-brac - what I mean is that its tune falls into tooo regular a pattern - I know it doesn't make as much sense to anyone but me... Yet I can't bring myself to delete them. And then again, there are those songs which I have heard literally millions of times and still can't bring myself to skip them - most Alaiypayuthey songs are like that. Saaki is like that as is Ipanema. Totally and completely weird, isn't it?

The gift

Getting gifts is always fun... Whether just another trinket or something fabulous... I have always loved getting presents... the more surprise in it, the better. So when my hubby called me yesterday and told me we'd gotten a belated wedding present from his friend, he dropped a subtle hint saying - "This will be a big surprise for you." And my overactive imagination prepared an extensive list of things... But nothing had prepared me for what it really was..

I was waiting for him of course with the wifely instinct blended in with excessive proportions of dying curiosity. And when he placed the package in front of me, my mouth literally dropped open. Getting an SLR camera has been in my plans for ageeeeees... and amongst my hubby n I, I am the more camera-crazy one (and the more behind-the-scenes person). That explained why it would be a BIG surprise for me. Of course, for all that wanting the SLR camera bit, I don't know a thing about using it. But thats something I started figuring out last evening.

Praneeth, I truly wanted to write a glowing blog thanking you for this gift.. but I am soo overwhelmed that this is it for now... And I can thank you more by covering you all play cricket... after all a picture is worth a 1000 words. :)

Of snowfall and slipping tongues...

It snowed in Paris!! Here.. check out a shot of the school's railway station...

I thought I'd seen enough snow to last me a lifetime through my three chilly winters at Cincinnati... But I was mistaken. I was unduly thrilled when I threw open the front door this morning and saw a sheet of white over everything around. And the feel of the snow crunching under my shoes was nice as well... Yeah, you probably think I'm crazy. But snow sort of became a part of my life abroad and it was unnatural without it. The air was as always crisp... that goes with the territory when it has snowed and there was no wind... And as usual, I scooped a palmful of fresh snow and compacted it delighting in its texture and showing my husband who no doubt thinks I have lost it (he's already called me to find out if I reached college safely!)

But thats not all... You'd think with snowfall came accidents of people slipping or falling. Only in my case, my tongue totally compensated for me saving grace. In a fantastically good mood for a Monday morning, all thanks to the snow, I was humming to my Ipod and snaking my way through the monday morning rush to the other side of the train station to get on to my second train to get to school. As is customary, I bumped over someone and instead of mumbling "Pardon" or "Desolé", which would've been more appropriate meaning Excuse me or Sorry, I actually said "Merci", which is Thank You. Its probably because Merci sounds like Mercy (in English, sort of like - have mercy) or I don't know what but I reacted off the amusement on the guy's face. And I hastily corrected myself... "I mean sorry.. Pardon." His face cleared a bit and as we hurried up the steps, he said -"Tu parle anglais..." I nodded furiously, "Je parle anglais" I said claiming complete allegiance to the only European language I could. And then I lost sight of him... I suppose it could've been worse.

I leave you with one more shot of this snow all captured by my hubby's compact camera (which I now carry always in case of such emergencies). I bet the people on the street who saw me clicking away probably thought it was my first ever snow sighting. Little do they know....

Flash memory

I mean here, a flash of memory... and not the storage device. As is habitual when the hubby is out playing cricket, I do the household chores and watch reruns of some of my favorite shows. After a long long time, I decided to revisit Sex and the City. I didn't so much as watch it as I did relive my Cincinnatian memories with them. It was one of those shows that we caught late at night on Fox19 or WB64 while working on our theses... In fact we had a girls night out with the whole Season 1 on one of my bday weekends. I think another show that was "Roommate Special" was Medium... It took us a couple of episodes to even understand what was about but once we did, we were hooked. Ah... as much as life's taken a turn for the better, I miss my girls!

Branded~

I bet this has happened to most of you if not all... You tend to visit a restaurant/cafe/bar often and after having tried a bunch of stuff(or not), you develop a favorite and knowingly or not end up ordering the same combo day after day... And of course after a while, the waiter/waitress catches on and nods along even before you have completed ordering. Apparently, I develop favorites at most places... I think that has been derived from the fact that being vegetarian gives me few options in other countries and its easy to deveop a favorite among say, 2 choices.

It happened in Subway back in Cinci.. It wasn't the sub that got branded as my taste... But the way I prepared it. For instance, I was probably one-in-a-million who had the weird request of wanting her sub toasted after the veggies were in. After the first few quizzical glances, they started doing it by themselves whenever they saw me. Goldstar Chili was my next joint-of-choice. I used to order the café salad with extra olives and tomatoes and light on cheese. After 3 times, they started making the salad when they saw me in the vicinity. Most of the time, this stuff makes you feel special... like you are their regular and they know that and want to please you. But sometimes, its annoying. I always feel like they think they have me figured out. Now I can't exactly say why that matters to me.

It happened here again. So there's this really handy café downstairs that serves the typical coffees, juices and a bunch of breakfast baked foods apart from sandwiches and salads. Many mornings when I have heroinically skipped breakfast, I find my tummy grumbling in response to the delicious smell of fresh-baked croissants that wafts in to me from the café as I head upstairs to my office. And my order usually goes -"Bonjour... Café Créme Grand la porte et un croissant si'l vous plait" (Goodmorning... A large coffee with milk in a take-away cup and one croissant please). I think it happened fairly enough for her to brand me large-coffee-in-portable-cup-and-croissants-in-the-morning girl. Usually she hears me out even though she knows whats coming and then proceeds to complete my order. Today, she heard me again but she didn't listen. And I said petit - small cup.. But no, there arrived my large steaming cup of coffee and 1 freshly baked croissant. So much for feeling special. Nobody listens. Hmph.

Diana - the warrior princess

No no... This isn't a post about how ironical it is that Princess 'Diana was named after the Goddess of War and yet she was the most hunted person on the earth' as quoted by her brother Earl Spencer at her eulogy. Instead its about something far more trivial - PlayStation 3!!

S and I got a PS3 to go with our fabulous TV and we've been hooked ever since. We've been playing this game called 'Drake's Fortune' which for all its dramatic intros and interspersed dialogue boils down to a simple point n shoot with your gun game. It does have splendid graphics though. So all through my free time, I get to hear dialogues like "He's over here" and then bang bang of the guns and a "Son of a bitch.." or a "You've got to be kidding me" as our hero catches sight of the villains he needs to overcome. So to cut a long story short, my overimaginative brain decided to create its own night-time entertainment for me... in my dreams! And so I was Diana, this bimboistically realistic heroine who is hunting for her crown which gives her the authority to rule La-La Land... Whatever! If it wasn't enough that I hear everything through the day... I had to be fighting people all night and assuring my 'subjects' of 'good times to come'. Considering the amount of money that the papparazzi and newspapers have reeled in from the poor Princess Diana, I bet such a game probably exists in some other form in the market. As for me.. I should probably try to read and then fall asleep so that I can fuel my dreams in a different direction.

Happy Fool's Day

Here's Orkuts gag on Fool's Day - calling themselves "Yogurt"...

In case you want it see it fresh, log in to your Orkut Page.

Other gags - CNN IBN actually had a totally fake 'Rakhi Sawant assaults reporter' video. It was fake from the first microsecond and anyone who'd not guessed as much has some serious disorder.

Rediff had the headline - "Sorry Ranbir.. But Deepika weds Yuvi" - again it was soooo fake you could smell it. And then there have been the usual Jolie-Pitt wedding rumors. People should grow up and post believable April Fool's gags... Google usually does a great job.. In fact their ever-increasing mailbox storage was introduced 2 years ago on April 1... which led many people to believe that it was joke.. With the storage still increasing, we all know now who the joke's on. They also had a great one on some pigeon-flying search method or something similar...

Check out this year's Google Gag here.

Traditionally though, for me... April Fool's Day in India at least as long as my brother and I were there held the charm of fooling all my really naive family members. Mostly my brother and I would fold an 'Inland' Letter (remember those blue-coloured one and a half page paper which would fold into an envelope and had a printed stamp?) in which we wrote nonsense in Tamil, fold it, stick it and address it to our Chittipatti (Granny's younger sis who lives with us). Then we'd take turns in going out the door and ringing the bell. The other would open it announce loudly, "Babu letter." She'd come over expectantly before we screamed "April Fooooooooool" at her.

Soon, everyone else caught on... making fake calls from the mobile phones to the landlines, saying they cooked something else as opposed to reality and what not, and everything got the April Fool's tag with it. Now I suppose the charm has slightly faded on me... Or I would probably have attempted a gag post on my blog. That would've been fun... Lol.

Wool-Static

No, this is not a state like say, ec-static. Those of us who've stayed in cold countries have experienced this some time or the other. I remember in Cincinnati how we used to make sure to touch something wood before touching anything from the door knob to the microwave to the taps on the sink in winters. Everything used to give off that brief static electricity that crackled uncomfortably in your fingers for a microsecond. In fact VV and I have experienced worse static.. almost like a minor shock from our crackling hair. But the point is.. That was all ONE static jolt. Yesterday I had the opportunity to witness something different yet fascinating. I wore a sweatshirt over my shirt last night before sleeping. Half asleep I had gotten warm under the comforter and was uncomfortable with the extra layer. As I peeled away my sweatshirt, I actually saw hundreds of crackling little sparks, whitish-yellow in colour in the dark even as the sweatshirt separated from the shirt. It was like a bunch of tiny little glow worms moving along with a sputtering noise. I actually awoke my hubby to witness the spectacle. And I woke him up remarking "Sparks!" Jolted by the possiblity of sparking electric wires, I can't say he was truly amused at my discovery. :)

The beginner's guide to being vegetarian at a French Cafetaria

Alright... Its almost taboo to be vegetarian in this country... much worse than the United States. There's so much collective disbelief that you don't eat anything that once lived that you almost feel bad to disappoint them. My first few lunches here at the ESIEE canteen were sponsored by my professors and I didn't pay much attention to what I threw on to my tray. Later I realized I was hungry in no time and of course that was because I had barely eaten anything. When I started coming here full-time, over the first week I was perpetually hungry even an hour after a seemingly long lunch. I was doing it wrong. Here's what I really have to do have a tummy that lasts without grumbling atleast till 3:00 pm.

1. Stock up on the salad - The salad bar comes first in the scheme of things. And usually I tended to take measly portions of the salad. This is the crux of the meal and it is important to take healthy portions.

2. Check out the desserts enroute - Usually there's some chocolate/caramel cake or something for the sweet tooth.. If you're trying to be healthy, pick up a bowl of fruit.

3. Pick up a carton of yogurt or a can of juice.

4. Main course: There's probably ONE dish you could take. Its probably boiled potatoes/beans/peas which is just that.. The veggies have been dumped into boiling water and taken out. Do not expect any salt/pepper or other flavours. These are just meant to serve as a side to some form of sizzling meat which will also feature on the main course

5. Sometimes you also have legumes (dal) and riz (rice), both undercooked and not very recommended.

6. Ask for some frite (French fries).. and a fresh fruit (apples, banana, oranges, whatever you want), you are done!

Now pay for it (it probably cost you under 2€ no matter how much you took) and a carafe of water and ooh yeah.. how could I forget the bread?? At least 3 varieties are available to choose from, and are free and unlimited. I prefer taking the mini baguette, scooping the soft inside and eating it, forming a shell into which I stuff about half my salad and voila, I have a stuffed baguette. You can always spice up your boring salad/rice or whatever at the condiments table with everything from paprika to olives.

Thats the best you can do here.. Bon Appetit!

Heavy on TV

I've realized that when S is out of town and when its vacation day, like Monday was... I can spend 10 straight mindless hours watching TV. This for someone who barely watched TV in India (I would choose a book over the Idiot box anyday). I donno if its coz we've gotten this gloriously huge, flat screen LCD monitor which makes you wanna watch just about anything or because there are NO english books sold here (I should've stocked up in England - damn!) or maybe I just had it in me.

I had seen 2 whole discs of F-R-I-E-N-D-S and 1.5 movies! I cook with the TV on.. I eat with the TV on.. I clean with the TV on. Or maybe its because we don't have our internet connection yet. Whatever the reason, the madness has got to stop!

Memory Rush

We visited S's college here this last weekend. We'd driven up there with a bunch of friends, with me doing the driving - something I am proud of. It was a manual car with a left wheel drive - a combination I hadn't tried before. Ok.. but the point is that we were at INT (Institut Nationale d'Telecommunication) - Pardon me if the spellings are screwed.. thats the limit of my French so far. Its a tiny little campus in a place called Evry outside of Paris. And going there... seeing how S and his friends recollected a flood of memories made me recollect my own. And suddenly I missed Cincinnati and my days there with my own band sourly. Here they were showing off their Forum (my TUC) where they had weekendly parties, their cafetaria which constituted millions of meals, their main building where the classes were held.. and all I could do was to compare it with Baldwin Hall. UC is a small campus, smaller than most other US University campuses which are spread across miles and have towns built around them. But INT is smaller than UC... but just as self-content.. It had its own stuff - large hostels, huge administrative buildings, its own hill (which reminded me of the tiny hill with the winding path in front of Morgens @ UC), tennis courts, et al. Gosh, I miss Cincinnati!

S, we've got to go back so I can show you UC and much more..

French kisses

Nope.. This is not any spicy blog about what you may have thought its going to be from the title.. This is about the French way of greeting people (or saying goodbye to them). I believe it is called faire la bise.. La Bise means kiss in French.. So this is the action you might've caught on TV somewhere where 2 people exchange kisses (to the air) on alternating cheeks. It seems that 2 kisses is the norm.

I was at a party yesterday.. It was a birthday party for an Indo-French kid hosted by his family, an entire bundle of Indo-French folks... They spoke fluent Tamil and French and halting English.. It was my first time at any such gathering and I was observing the customs quite amusedly. Initially when I met the first 2 people, I enthusiastically followed along kissing the air ( I realized that these people exchanged 4 kisses - it seems its a custom for people in Nantes) But my interest waned when I met another whole bunch and I saw more of the surrounding people than the one was meeting while kissing the air around me 4 times!! Gosh!! It was a pretty long drawn process and started to get to me a bit.

That apart, at the time of cake cutting (there were 2 huge cakes to accomodate servings for the number of guests), each one flanked by a flowerpot cracker. There were 2 bottles of champagne and we were each given sparklers (mathaappu) which we were to light when the birthday boy was about to blow out the candles.

And once we were done, we got started with the goodbye kisses. Some customs just require getting used to.

I need to know NOW

Ever had that experience? Where if you didnt't find out about something right at that instant, your head will explode? I am in that situation NOW and I have been chewing my nails away.. And I still have a few hours to go.. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

My 6 arai koodai

Here's one of my favorite purchases... No wonder I feel like cooking everyday, huh?

Email tales

Reading old emails is like opening one of my diaries for me... Its a potpourri of stuff that keeps me ever enchanted and wakes me up from the dreariest of days..

Today was the 4th installment of cleaning up my overcluttered Inbox and out poured a huuuge collection of memories - mostly good and some bad.. Mostly, I tend to read the good stuff.. Like a few days back I was reading some of the first emails my now hubby had sent me and they all brought a smile to my face. Today I was reading a lot of stuff I had "Starred". And I noticed a pattern... I had either "Starred" the important stuff like career/study related, the ones I needed to respond to or surprisingly, the ones about which I wanted to remember and forget at the same time.. Maybe its a Scorpion trait.. I wanted to forget the incident(s) - many petty and a few grave- but remember who had done it.. And the very subject of the email brought up fleeting memories - It soured my mood a bit. Has that ever happened to you?

I unstarred them all... time to grow up... Atleast the next time I read something, it would be all sweet.

Scientists everywhere..

The quad where my college is located has been aptly named.. On one side is Boulevard Newton, then there is Rue Copernicus and the third side is Boulevard Archimedes flanked by Pascal Boulevard and indeed the entire place is called Cité Descartès.

I was just joking to a friend that if I did something worth mentioning, there would be a street somewhere that read "Rue de la Jaya". As I said that aloud, it sounded like "Rude la Jaya?" (Jaya's rude, right? - in Tamil)

I wonder how many agree...

A 6 course meal

Today I have achieved what I believed impossible. Well its both what you think and what you don't know. I lasted a 6 course meal - you got that from the title of the post. But I also lasted an entire day of presentations in... FRENCH. Congratulations to me! I never thought it was possible. When my professor suggested that it would be "good for me" to attend the presentations given by the senior members and partners of the project and get introduced to them as the new stellar PhD student, I was excited. Then he revealed that they would be in French. Thats when I mentally tuned out and willed myself not to sleep. I have slept in many classes in the past and A will vouch for that a 100%.. But in a teeny conference room with 6 senior members all waiting to see that spark of brilliance come from me, it wasn't the best of ideas. But this post is not about how I survived 6 gruelling hours of making out an odd phrase here... a number there and the parallels between French and English on the screen ahead of me (scientific is scientifiqué - there are many words like that). Its about lunch. The French like their food. That explains why the initially decided upon hour-long lunch stretched into twice that length.. It can also be explained by the fact that there were 6 courses.

Before today I had no idea how any meal could have more than 3 courses -appetizer, lunch and dessert, right? Wrong! The French start with what they love most - bread. Our choices today for Course 1 were wheat bread and baguette... And then the chef brought in Course 2 - plates of salad for each of us.. Thankfully he was forewarned about me being veggie and so while the others crunched on their chicken/pork/lamb or whatever, I grazed on my carrots, cucumbers and tomatoes. The salad was soo huge that I half suspected that that was it. Wrong again! Giving us ample time to finish (everyone had scraped their plates clean except me), the chef cleared the plates and brought in the main courses - Course 3... Boiled ripe Roma tomatoes and boiled beans with basmati rice for me as opposed to chicken tikka masala for them.. Its an unfair world. The boiled beans had no salt or any flavour and I couldn't take more than two of them. The tomatoes were yummy and thats all I ate.. what was I to eat the rice with anyways? I was sure dessert was next after the Basmati disaster - wrong again.. And in came Course 4 - Cheese. Seriously, I thought it was flan or something on my plate - but it turned out to be 3 ample portions of what I identified as blue cheese, goat cheese and ambiguous cheese.. with guess what? Bread of course! I was mortified by then and barely chewed anything while others munched away to glory. I was hoping we were done once and for all. Of course I was wrong. Course 5 - Dessert - a fried banana pie. This was yummy with a delectable crust and everyone cleaned up their plates, thank you very much. Now surely it was over? Who could get back to those meetings without that last course? Course 6- A shot of espresso!! My first ever and I needed it to wake me from the lull of the 2 hour lunch. The caffeine didn't as much as the bitterness did and I was grateful for the dark chocolate that accompanied it to remove the taste from my mouth.

Off we all trudged into the meeting room. Waiting for us was what we'd started with at breakfast- coffee, tea, orange juice, croissants and pain aù chocolat.

Home Sweet Home

Its such a new n refreshing (and fatiguing) experience to set up a new home all for yourself (and your husband of course!) Having never really bought furniture for a house, it was a brand new adventure... Me, S and a couple of friends went to a furniture super store, a certain brand name beginning with I. Having never been to the store before, we had no idea how it worked... For on the ground floor, we saw a vast expanse of warehousey space with stacks of furniture, all in boxes, arranged over expanses of shelves ready to be shipped we assumed. But we also saw a bunch of people refer something, pick the required boxes off the selves, load them on carts and head to checkout. Spare parts, we assumed. On enquiring, we found out that we didnt have to pick stuff off the racks this way. Instead we could go to the top floor and view the assembled furniture and pick what we desired. What a relief.. And so we went.. I went hyper seeing some of the stuff they had on display and S and I disagreed on almost every piece of furniture. So Day 1 turned out as a Disaster Day considering the store was closing early that too. We reached a consensus to go home, browse the website, make educated decisions and come back the next day to place the orders directly.

After a productive evening of finalizing all the furniture, we went back the next day... While waiting for S to arrive, me with my broken French and excellent charades managed to get most of the stuff listed for billing... The guy upstairs in his broken English told me that now we had to go downstairs and pay for everything and arrange for the shipping. Sounded fairly simple... To our horror though, later we discovered that the list that the upstairs guy was merely the reference paper we'd seen many poor souls refer and lunge huge stuff on carts. And sadly Day 2, it was just S and me. Panting and puffing we lunged all the damned furniture onto the carts with me actually putting my foot down (under the weight of was it the cupboard or the bed - bah who cares?) After the lengthy bill, the bank account depleted, we were still not done!! It so happened that the bed being huge wasn't kept out there with the rest of the stuff.. We had to wait an eon before they called our number and delivered the huge bed n mattress to us and another eon while we gave them back everything and paid them to have them deliver it home the next day.

Thought we were done? Not quite.. The delivery man appears a half hour after the hour stated and dumps all of the stuff from a truck right on the footpath in front of our house (I'd actually opened out the French windows in the hope of coaxing him to dump them into the house). Now me n a friend lunge back everything into the house and my foot gets caught once more, this time under the bed. Feet sore, all samaan in? Now we're done?? No baby, this is the beginning. For now, we had to fit everything together to make it look like the catalogue from mere cartons.

3 days hence..... a couple of more trips, a couple more stores... 90% done.. a bit more to go... the house is finally taking shape.. Yeaaaaay!!

A non-Hindy filmy experience

Hindi movies have spoiled us thoroughly. I realized the gravity of that yesterday evening. Me n the husband were going furniture shopping for our new home and were going to get there individually from our places of work. As usual, I got there first and was waiting in the partially deserted parking area in front of the entrance. It was raining in mild sprays and the sky was turning purple. Come on now, you know this scene from Hindi movies, don't you? This is when the heroine is looking in the completely opposite direction and suddenly feels a prick on her neck and she palats and there's the hero with widespread arms. The film bug bit me. I looked in the opposite direction too hoping to feel the prick announcing S's arrival... It must've been the 2 layers of clothing that pricked so much.. coz I turned about 30 times either to stare at strangers or the emptiness of space.. but No S. The rain had gotten steadier and my hands and the tip of my nose were numb from the cold. I palat-ed one last time in vein and then made it into the store in peals of laughter at my own filminess.

And then unexpectedly, as I pored over the kitchenware inside while smiling to myself, I did palat and there was S with his trademark half-widespread arms. :)

Note to self: Earth to J.

Back to School

Remember those days? When we were children and we started school after a 3 month summer vacation? New textbooks and notebooks... all wrapped smartly in brown paper. I remember how choosing labels was a big deal. We had crisp new uniforms, sometimes a new school bag we couldn't wait to show off and sharpened pencils and new ink pens. Plus meeting many friends after a whole 3 months (we weren't used to calling them over break). Thats what made school reopening very exciting... at least for the first week when we didn't have homework, classwork or assignments to do.

Guess what? I joined school today. After a whole 3 month wedding break. After 9 months of working. A year after completing my Masters. This time for a higher objective - a PhD. And no, I don't need to take classes or give exams. I just have to do what I like best - research. And so its begun. I have my new desk (though temporary), my computer access and I've started reading up on what I might be required to do... And now I realize the importance of the environment. While at home, I couldn't read 2 lines of a paper without distraction or without switching over to something else, here I've already read 3 papers in my 2 hours here (hence the break, hehe)... And whats more surprising - I'm excited about this. Its a different kind of rush. Maybe it has to do with the two little prefix letters these three years will earn me superceding the 2 letters behind my name currently.

The real charades

Traditionally, I have been great at Charades or Dumb-C as we call it... But that was all with people who basically shared at least one single language. Here in France, the case is obviously different. It isn't so much a game as a survival skill. I've had a bunch of experiences where some basic actions have gotten me through sticky situations. Here's one- While I was visiting at college, I convincingly ordered a café au lait (coffee with milk) and gave 5€ to pay for it and was given back 45 cents. Now I knew it was utterly completely impossible for a coffee to cost 4.55€ in that part of the suburb. I looked around for a board of prices... And saw that it was being repainted. So I motioned the guy over and said - "I gave 5 (raising 5 fingers) euros." He smiled, gave me a high five and said "Merci." (Thank you). I tried again and this time his smile faltered a bit before thanking me again. A fleeting thought of letting the 5€ crossed my mind. But who was going to lose 300 rupees over some lack of understanding? After a deep breath I decided I had to use my limited french to get the point across.

"Je (=I while pointing to myself) gaaaaaaaaaaave (action of giving- didn't know the french word for that) cinq (five) hooro (french pronunciation of euro). Combien café? (How much for the coffee?)"

There was a sudden spark of understanding in his eye and he retrieved appropriate change (= 4€ more) and profusely apologized.

Whoosh.. a minor victory. (And thank god the coffee didn't actually cost 4.55 €. Now that would've been embarassing)

Mona Lisa

They've changed the rules of the Grand Gallery at the Louvre... Anyone can now take as many pictures as they will.. Here's one -

But the fantasy is lost.. The last time I was there, I had a fun time trying to get past the guard's attentions in getting a clandestine picture of the lady.. In fact I have saved well over 10 shaken photographs from that trip. This time around, it was simple.. If you waited for 2 minutes, you would get a position in the dead center and could take a photo square on. How boring.

A hair-razing experience

Those who know me know that I have a habit of 'curling' my hair when I am totally jobless or when I want to 'set' my hair well enough after a hair-raising headbath.. So it was no surprise that I had packed away my curler from the US for use here... Having bought a us-france plug, I figured I would use my curler to soften my curls 2 mornings ago. As is customary, I plugged the curler on and left it to heat for a while.. It usually takes about 5 minutes to gather sufficient heat to make any difference when I wrap my hair around it. My first hint should've been when in 2 minutes the light indicator (which turns from red when its cold to white when its hot) popped off the curler's surface. I didn't think much of it... Instead after a few minutes, I sat down and took a very small section off the front frizzy hairs and twisted them around the curler.. I usually have to wait a minute atleast before the curls get soft enough.. But then in a few short seconds I smelt burning... A sort of singed smell... the smell of hair being burnt. In utter panic, I unplugged the curler and then unwrapped my tiny strand of hair.. or atleast tried.. Because my hair was burning and sticking to the curler.. I jerked it away and it came off in my hands. I don't think I have ever been so shocked. Still shaking from the horror of it, illogically I pulled all of my hair tight to verify that my hair wasn't just falling and that the curler was to blame. Thankfully no more hair tore loose... Mercifully my husband stashed the cursed thing away..

It was a while before I was calm enough to examine the logic behind the sequence.. When I did, it was fairly simple and as an Elecrtical Engineer I had to take all the blame. Being a US gadget the curler required just 110V. The conversion plug we'd purchased was just that - a plug and not a transformer as I had for some unfathomable reason thought... I needed a step down transformer to plug the curler in to step down from France's 220V supply to the gadget's 110V. The only other devices I had used with the plug had their own adaptors - the cell phone and the laptop. No wonder the curler heated way too fast.. it was receiving twice the power it needed. And mercifully, I didn't burn myself or anything else.. all I lost was a few strands of frizzy hair.

J's day out - Part Deux

Another day... another adventure... a bunch more pictures. Yesterday was my second visa interview at the UK embassy (they sent me off at the first one because I was smiling in my photograph - grrrrrrrrrrrr) and the embassy is located just off the famed Champs Elysées. The appointment was for 4:15 and so when I was done, it was the wee hours of the evening and the sky was melting into a riot of colors. I was going to meet hubby dearest at one of the Metro stations in well over an hour. So that meant I had the hour to kill. Judiciously, I had lugged along his smaller Canon camera for the ease of carrying. After some of the sights I saw, I really wished I had brought my own bulky one... The pics in this weren't half bad but nevertheless.. And off I started walking down Champs Elysées, famed as the most beautiful road in the world.. I don't know about beautiful.. but it sure is long and its dotted with some of the most famous structures in Paris. Of course its ends are flanked by the famous Arc de Triomphe on one end and the Musee du Louvre at the other.. Along the way, comes the Place de la Concorde - the seat of the French revolution - more precisely the location of the guillotine that ended the lives of amongst others, King Louis Philippe XVI and his wife, Marie Antoinette. Surprisingly, the concorde monument bore no reference to any of this but was instead just dedicated to the King.

Further ahead lay the Louvre. The temptation was unsurmountable. As a photography geek, I have always wanted to capture the glass pyramids in twilight.. And it was just turning pink in the sky.. I wanted to hang around there till dark and get whatever shots I wanted. I called the husband and made a change of plan to directly meet him at home. Though he insisted that the Louvre lay farther than it seemed and that I should probably take a train to it, I stressed that it was a stone's throw away and that I could see it rise just beyond the gates. It had to be a stone shot by a canon I suppose... he was as right as I was wrong. What lay behind the gates was merely a very large garden of sorts and what might've been a brisk 10 minute walk into the Louvre grounds seemed far more for my already tired legs. Having made the decision, I stuck by it and the sky turned purple by the time I got the first glimpse of the pyramid. The lighting was just perfect.. And the photos saw a lot more than my eyes did.

At the end of my day, I was tired, content, hungry and happy. It was time to head back home to the husband.

J's day out

Conquering a city has for some reason had its charm. Especially when you don't know the language, its even a challenge. With the husband having to go to office and being unable to obviously babysit me, I decided I had to spread my wings too. And so I undertook an excursion of my own. I had to find my way to college to greet the professors.. And then why shouldn't I just go to the Eiffel Tower and get some good day time shots? The weather was brilliant and there was no excuse really. My poor hubby probably thought I was going to be in lost world once outside the house and called regularly to interrogate my current location. Armed with the Metro Map and the ability to read, I was pretty much set. Off I went to the college armed with one more thing - the memory of having gone there once before. Once thats there, you pretty much tend to follow the steps rather than use the brain to maybe find easier routes. But on this case, I was spot on. I took the right bus and the right train and got off at the right stop (all thanks to the husband reconfirming it with me). And one small error. I needed to have found Sortie 3 (Exit 3) but instead happily followed the swarming crowd to Sortie 1 and found myself in completely unfamiliar surroundings. Having inspected a readily available map, I figured I was nearby but not right where I needed to be. Call the husband. After a few seconds of asking me where I did what and asking me to retrace my path, he informed me that I had the wrong exit. Alright then. On I marched to the right one and soon found myself surrounded with familiarity as I made my way to school with no further ado. After exchanging pleasantries, and a very-sadly-need-to-get-acquainted-lunch of simple salad, and some formalities later, I was free to find the Eiffel Tower. 2 Metros and 40 minutes later, I had the right stop. Now which among the 8 exits? I gave my elementary French some work and took a guess based on the names of the exits (the hubby didn't answer the phone).. and it turned out I was right! From sheer memory again, I walked out the station and found myself at the quarter... facing the Eiffel Tower. With brilliant blue skies, many trial panorama shots and many other pictures, the walk, the taking in of the mammoth structure was all worth my while. I was doubtful of the angle of the sun casting shadows on the East side of the tower and I walked a few long stretches to the other side and in the sun I couldn't see the results of my pictures. When I got home(by myself with no instructions) to load them on the computer , it was worth every second spent.

Un café si'l vous plait

I haven't really noticed how the cost of coffee varies from city to city inside the US...But I sure have made a short n sweet study in Paris in my short while here. Maybe its coz one tends to drink soo many coffees or probably one drinks soo many coffees because of all those cafés scattered at every street corner. Whatever the reason, the cost of living gradation is pretty obvious from these prices -

Coffee At --------------------------------Price in €
School (suburb) -----------------.----------0.65
Near home (posh suburb) ---------------- 2.00
City outskirts ------------------------------3.50
(2 min from posh suburb)
City - pretty setting ---------------------- 5.00
Champs Elysees --------------------------- 6.00

There you go.

Moment of truth?

The wedding is such a big deal.. to you.. the family... the people attending. Its a defining moment after which "life is never the same" - for good reasons of course. But somehow as I lived through my wedding, I had a very vague feeling of disjointedness... Like I was looking over someone else's wedding. I was the one getting ready but I was not the one getting married. Anyone ever felt that before? It was beautiful yet unreal. That would explain my 3rd person reactions.. the thumbs up, etc. Even now as I am with the hubby, it feels like I am living with a friend and shadowing his lifestyle.. nothing too different. I wonder why and I wonder when the realization of the magnitude if the events is going to dawn if it ever will...

Makeup Madwoman

Another of those wedding posts.. When you are the bride, nonsensical things like make-up assume astronomical importance on D-Day. One of the main things S & I were particular about was that the makeup be absolutely natural.. not overdone, blah blah. We found S aunty who was a debutante but did a commendable job with the makeup on all the velais... She was a tad apprehensive about doing the reception makeup though.. because I had insisted on curling my hair. Anyone who knows me has by now raised eyebrows to the curling part considering that my hair has the most unmanageable curls on the planet. I think thats what did S aunty in and she didn't exude the supreme confidence that one requires of their reception makeup artiste. And so Clara came into the picture.. She was the one who'd prepped me up for the wedding and so I put my face in her hands.

With 2 hours to go for the reception to begin, I was supremely confident that things were in control.. I had gotten through the rest of the wedding with appreciable aplomb and poise (all self claimed and universally approved except for the roach incident). My dear Kadalais had started arriving to help me get ready. Clara was on time... She said she'd start with my face, get to the hair and then the sari. Sounded good to me.. S aunty worked on my face for an average of 15 minutes to get the natural look.. So I assumed that Clara would at most take a half hour to overdo the makeup - a basic requirement to survive without melting under the lights of the reception. 20 minutes of cleansing, moisturizing and using my own makeup later, I saw the horror reflected on ML's face. It seemed the eyeliner was messed up.. That meant cleaning the entire eye and that meant reapplying the makeup.

Scrub 1.

ML took control to her hands and started applying the liner herself.. After a few critical strokes, she seemed happy with her work.. which was good enough for me knowing the perfectionist she was. Then suddenly she looked at my hair and her expression changed.. The makeup had gotten to my hair and made it whitish.. and no amount of water sponging seemed to help. Yikes!!! Then came the mascara application... for the hair!!

It was now just 45 min to go.. I ordered Clara to get on with my hair.. And what did I see her unpacking.. traditional curlers and not a curling iron!!! Mother of the Lord.. And she didn't have eyeshadow and was planning on using lipstick instead.. And she didn't have proper lipstick either and I donno what she planned to use. ML to the rescue again... She fished out some eye shadow, lipgloss all in a jiffy and worked on my face while Clara struggled with my hair (amongst my curses). With the hair not getting done and the face still a white haze and 15 minutes to go, panic set in. SM started putting the jewelry on me.. And while I was halfway through the sari draping, a knock on the door and - "Mappilai ready.." my brother announced categorically. I fumed. What did the Mappilai have to get ready? While I sweated in this airconditioned room to get my makeup, hair, clothes and accessories ready, the mappilai had slept blissfully, thrown on his clothes, done a hair check and hey presto! he was ready. Talk about unfairness.

Then I looked at the mirror.. and gagged.. I was white. A digicam image verified as much. With no time, profuse evasive action was required. I grabbed a tissue and wiped away liberally.. taking off over an hour of Clara's work... When I slowly saw my skin color return, some peace stole in. My eyelashes were still a little white (Clara's mascara had run out).. But that couldn't be helped. Talk about fiascos. At the end of it all, I had go out.. and smile for a million photographs and VR has the nerve to ask me - "Why haven't you shown your genuine teeth-wala smile? Your closed mouth smile is sooo unnatural."

For those who saw the photos and thought they were gorgeous.. I thank ML.

AppRoach

Why is it that sooo many of my posts revolve around my entomophobia? Maybe 'coz of the phobia itself.. But whatever the reason... the insects, especially the one starting with C have wreaked havoc in my life at many important moments showing themselves at places they are least welcome.. like the wedding.

So, we were done with all the thaali tying.. and for anyone who's observed the typical TamBrahm wedding (or been in it themselves), they know that the homams all involve the men primarily and the bride has nothing better to do than symbolically hold hands once in a while and stare at the crowd to catch the many familiar faces and nod thanks to all the pouring congratulations. There we were.. seated in the pristine setting among a blazing fire, melting ghee, many veshti clad vaadhiyars and a lot of smoke and sweat. And the vaadhiyar pulls out the dried varati (cow dung cakes) to feed the fire... and guess who's seated on top of that? None less than 5 huge cockroaches. While they scatter in all directions (3 in mine) from the heat, my panic surges in a microsecond and I realize that I have lost my voice... The priest is trying to calm me down.. and I am caught in the dilemma of fleeing the mandapam lest they get into the madisaar and of drawing some significant attention which would do something to rid them. My F-I-L was shocked at my panic and S (busy with all the homams) hadn't a clue why I was screaming frantically and half jumping on his lap. They dispersed without much ado. Thankfully they weren't the muchad variety. Even then I marveled at their making their presence felt shortly after the most important moments of my life... Some species just don't get that they are never wanted... Hmph.

Tear Factor

Traditionally my family has been teary-eyed. It happens at good occasions or not... with good reason or not.. Its like everyone has a tap affixed somewhere. And the moment they want to, they can cry. That includes the women and the men. No offense meant. Everyone has their feelings and as someone says anything is better out than in. And with my wedding that just happened, there was no better excuse really. For me, its a different type of tap. My tap is turned on when people I really love are in tears... no matter what the reason.. even if they are weeping for a silly movie. So the first tears started at home everytime they thought of the 3 day wedding festivities. I wasn't so affected by that maybe coz I expected it. But my tap burst on oonjal day especially when I saw my dad in pools of tears.. I couldn't see my brother then.. I assume he was in tears too.. And I choked. Thats when S smartly moved me away while hushing in my ear that I would be ruining the wedding pictures. I calmed down.. And the next time I got close enough to dad and he was not in tears I told Appa that that was it for the tears. It was a happy occasion and we had to make it one. My biggest worry at that time was that I would burst out crying when the thaali was tied- the sacred moment for all teardom and importantly the defining moment of the entire wedding. The ceremony proceeded surprisingly fast and soon I was handed the koora podavai - the red and gold traditional brahmin wedding saree.. and before I knew it, I was on Appa's lap for the mangalyadharanam. I was a li'l panicked, a li'l calm and I stared around for some reassurance. And I got it in S Mama... who subtly shook his head from side to side to indicate that I wasn't to weep. I looked up at S - the thaali in his hands. And a moment of surreal calm set into me. And I could see just him and thankfully he wasn't crying. :) In a moment.. it was over. I was married! And I hadn't cried and thats when the double thumbs up came. I am told it was captured on a friend's camera's video... And I am sure it will be in the official one as well. And then I heard the tears... my patti, my Amma, my Appa and who not. This time I was sure though. The tears were all happy.

Visa woes

With the impending wedding to the France-settled groom, the only thing remaining was to get the visa... Sure I have an admission letter.. a grant.. all the funds... the insurance and every conceivable thing on earth. So you would think getting the visa would be a piece of cake, right? Wrong. Its a whole week since I actively started the visa formalities and 20 days since I first did. And finally just yesterday I collected my passport with the visa splashed across its pages. My experience with Alliance Francais forced me to rechristen it as Alachal Francais... I have been there up and down a trillion times.. ok 4 times to be precise and spent no less than 6 hours each visit. Mr S there turned out to be real helpful but even then the stupid online form/system left a lot to be desired. It was forever before I could get the No Objection Certificate - something I believed trivial/unnecessary before I realized that the time I was investing at AF was essentially the time I would be saving at the consulate. And so Pa and I finally set off on Tuesday to Pondicherry where the consulate was situated. Having been told by many sources that the lines start forming at wee hours of the morning, we left the night before and got to a hotel in the hopes of finding ourselves at the start of the line early next morning.

5:00 AM - We were at the locked doors of the consulate, the first ones at the helm of the non-existant line only to be informed by the guard that no person in their right mind was going to come before 7:45AM to the consulate doors that opened at 8:00AM.

7:00 AM- The guard was right.. There wasn't an ee-kaka (housefly/crow) around.. It was the perfect situation to feed the rumbling stomach at Adyar Anand Bhavan.. And off we went.. A sumptuous breakfast later... there were still no people.

8:00 AM- There were 4 of us - the same 4 who made multiple trips to AF.. The consulate doors opened. I was first in and first out - all under 1 minute.. And the result? Visa approved. But pick up the passport the next day.

Nonsense. Multiple Pondy trips and a couple of sleepless nights later, I have my passport with the visa stamped.

A week to go. I am unlikely to blog until afterward.

The Manchurian Ravings

Yes.. I finally did it.. My maiden attempt - awesome yummy gobi manchurian.. It took 2 hours and it was all gone in 5 minutes. But it was worth every minute of the effort. And finally now that I can make it, the craving is gone.

Closing in...

The countdown began 10 months ago and now there's just 15 days to go... Good Lord! The rush has only just begun.....

Oru kozhaviyin diary

For those who don't know - a kozhavi is a honeybee.

Our house has always been the honeybee hub. Ever since I was little I remember the tiny kozhavis swarming the restroom in the chinna (little) room of our house. They used to bustle right up near the tiny window and build elaborate mansions which they would breed in and eventually abandon. Invariably we had the watchman clear the houses (hives) once the 'season' was over. Finally we netted up the window to prevent further incidents. But the kozhavis weren't to be fooled. They soon shifted base to the main window frame of the chinna room. I have always marveled at how hardworking the kozhavis were... They relentlessly brought in what I assume is mud and used some sticky body fluid to build their hives. (I have never seen any honey in the hive... it seemed just like a house for the bees to flock to every night). The structures got more elaborate and complicated as days passed. And soon we realized that not removing the hives earlier caused them to leave imprint patterns on the window or any other location which enabled them to find their way back again the next season.

The reason I remembered the kozhavis was that this time yet again they'd started building one at the same spot. My parents told me tales of how a large and very bustling colony had been constructed a few months ago. And due to an impending birth in the family, no one wanted to destroy the hive in case it rendered bad luck. This reminds me of a time when a bat found its way into the chinna room and lodged itself on the cupboard door. The poor thing had to be rescued from there and screeched in pain/terror till the watchman carefully set it free. And that incident of the other night when my bro was almost paralyzed with fear from the appearance of some animal which I have been fortunate not to sight. It seemed it was as large as a rat but looked like an insect and the watchmen claimed its nomenclature as a thundil on description. I can with no shame say that I would perhaps have fainted on such a sighting. Or the time a rat found its way in the house and we had no idea in which room it was - till we baited it by placing fruits in every room of the house and isolating it. It was the chinna room yet again. Back to the kozhavi - We had the housemaid dislodge the hive yesterday morning when the worker bees had all gone out. And we shut the window. Just when we thought we were done with them kozhavis, we saw one come in through the hall window desperately searching for its house perhaps. It is as my dad says - its the humans that need to be feared the most.

PS: We don't live in a jungle and our chinna room isn't filthy... But for some vague, weird reason its attracted almost all of the pests.

Chennai Chutzpah

Chennai has changed. I have said that each time in every post since I came to India. While many of the changes are the modernizations, this time I am out to crib. I can barely recognize the Chennai roads anymore and it has more to do with the traffic scene out there than the detours.

I accompanied my SIL-to-be yesterday to Ranganathan Theru.. (For the unfamiliar many, its this winding street in TNagar buzzling with trillion stores and million times as many people). She wanted to buy some jewelry at Saravana Stores (This is one of those multistoreyed stores that sell everything from a 50 paise to over 50 lakhs.. from clothes to jewelry to toys to furniture). We snaked our way into the street vaguely keeping sight of one another and tight hold on our purses and wound up at the door of the store. It took us 5 minutes to get to the entrance.. Once there we were informed rather rudely by one of the security fellows that we couldn't carry her sari upstairs to match it.. but instead we had to leave it underground, where there were many large puddles of dirty water from recent rains, I might add. We used my cell phone camera to capture a handy picture of the sari in case we needed to match it.. That done, we decided it was better to climb the 5 floors rather than wait for the overcrowded elevators. Once upstairs we were in for another surprise. They wanted to seal our handbags in large plastic bags lest we steal anything. I was exasperated with the security measures (I secretly don't blame them but wish they had something more fool-proof that didn't inconvenience the customers as much). Once in, there were sooo many people that I could barely feel any airconditioning (wonder if there was any), the salespeople were overworked and could barely tend to us... Everything took frustratingly long. And yet there were all these people there.. buying, screaming, billing, brushing across and what not. Either people have too much time or too much money or both. On restrospect the crowds were thronging because of Pongal perhaps. But still it was more than I could bear. I was getting rapidly claustrophobic and I thought I would pass out by the time we billed the small jimiki (jhumka) I bought there. And the worst part of it all was that we didnt find anything for my poor SIL. :(

I experienced Part II of the madness today when we went to Mylapore for yet another bout of shopping. The shopping part went on reasonably well and we went to the Saravana Bhavan nearby for a refreshing meal afterward. The trouble began here. Though the restaurant boasts an underground parking, of course on a Sunday evening, it was full. Appa and I parked at the far end of the street and took a hunger evoking walk to the restaurant. And once done, the fact that there was a Thiruvizha (a large fair) in the locality dawned on us. And that didn't help traffic at all. Add to that the cows and bulls that meander the streets lovingly making it their own. Oh and of course the humongous college buses which can dwarf any street when present on South Mada street prety much take all the place that there is. It took me and Appa about 40 minutes to drive the block around Kapaleeswarar Temple. When finally the roads cleared, I didn't know what hit me. Who ever thought things could get his crazy in Chennai? Chennai.. which was the most tranquil of the metros has transformed into something more sinister. Why can't all the roads become like the IT Highway (this road is right behind my house and has been paved into the highest quality road where the traffic flows away like butter) ? Hmph.

Separated

Anyone who knows me knows just how attached I am to my camera. But its been about a month now. And I haven't touched it. Believe it? Ever since I landed in Madras, I have stored the S2 IS in pa's cupboard locker. This for someone who took 1.2 gigs of pictures in her last India trip. And so it hasn't recorded many historic moments - maybe the first n last time I met M's A.. for now atleast... The Kadalais once more together... My last few single days at home... going out with the family, etc. I last used it amply at P's wedding. I realize how it has extended to being my third arm only when everyone around stops bringing their camera's around claiming J will have it.. only to be disappointed more than once. Now I kind of miss it. Its probably time to whip it out and use it the most I can.. now that S is arriving in a week.

The Manchurian cravings

When you have lived out of the country for more than 3 years, certain things start to matter more. Food.. time with parents and friends.. food.. you know what I'm getting at. When I arrived in Chennai, I found it incredibly hard to balance two core desires - the desire to remain the weight I was when I landed (if not lose more) and the desire to eat everything I craved. Evidently the second option won because my dad's been telling me that I have gained weight (I am yet to figure out whether thats just to panic me or if its true - the house doesn't own a weighing machine). I have curtailed most of my desires to eat out a whole lot.. and have been eating supervised (by me) home-cooked food with less oil, frying blah blue.. When you are a bride-to-be, such things start to matter much more than you thought possible. But as we friends made dinner plans a couple of weeks ago, the craving to eat Indian Chinese not only didn't fade away but became sooo much that I found myself telling M that I wanted Chinese and she had to suggest some place to go to. As she ticked off authentic Chinese places, I realized that I hadn't made it very clear that I craved indian-chinese particulary the gobi manchurian... that too roadside. I hastily corrected my cuisine choice illiciting a few laughs from her in the process. As we put our plans to action the next day, we couldn;t make to the place we wanted to. And improvising led us to a new 3-star place near my house.. somewhere I was certain it would be possible to get the coveted dish. But it wasn't to be. And I was left with its paler cousin, the gobi 65 - not half as good. And so it dragged. It seemed I was jinxed.. most places we went to didnt end up serving it. And the craving escalated to what I assume will be a pregnancy potency. And it required exclusive action. And so my dad schemed with me and we decided it was never going to happen by itself and we had to make exclusive plans and we stopped at the Besant Nagar fast food, a roadside delicatessan (the highest level word for a potti kadai) which served elaborate junk. And they took 35 minutes to make my dish... and my patience wore thin. It was worth every millisecond though when I sank my teeth in for that first bite. It was out of this world.

I have had 2 more plates of gobi manchurian since (without sharing) and have enjoyed every bite of it.. I hope I haven't packed as many pounds along the way.. What remains yet to-be-eaten are Murugan Idly's dishes, Eden's Continental and American Chopsuey... Ah.. I guess I'll leave somethings for me n the groom to dine out. :)

Happy New Year

2008. This is undoubtedly going to be one of the most memorable years in my life. And it begins tomorrow. There's been a lot to cheer about 2007- the most memorable being that my nephew was born.. That apart also, 2007 was a predominantly pleasing year.. The defense.. the graduation.. the multiple jobs... the new places, new friends and what not. Of course I wish many things were different. I wish I hadn't lived such a nomadic life. But I found new places, made new friends, made more contacts and gained priceless experience and everything has a positive spin to it. I am not going to complain. For now, its soo good to be home with the family to celebrate yet another new year with the conventional celebrations. The cake.. the TV.. the family.. the 12'o clock wishes and maybe a latenight drive around the city. Exactly as it has always been and probably will be.

Happy New Year 2008!