My Space

I've also started posting (almost) random bits to another blog http://secret0life.livejournal.com/ . You can subscribe to this one too.

Disclaimer: The LJ blog might have frequent short posts. And, sometimes gibberish [1] too :-)

[1] gib·ber·ish:
pronunciation: \ˈji-b(ə-)rish

meaning: unintelligible or meaningless language: a: a technical or esoteric language b: pretentious or needlessly obscure language

Update: I have plans to stop using the livejournal blog. Not sure to which bloghost I will switch to.

The Swiss are mind-bogglingly passionate about time (punctuality) and also about making precise time measuring devices. Everything here runs on time (with very high probability). Below are bits and pieces from some conversations elaborating my rampant claim:

Me: ...I am sorry, I am two minutes early, should I come later?

A friend to me: The train is at 9:16, so let us meet at 9:14 on the platform.

Announcement in a Swiss train: Ce train est 3 minutes en retard (this train is late by 3 minutes)
Such an announcement is generally followed by a set of apologies done once per minute of delay :-)

Advertisement for an apartment: It (the apartment) is 7 minutes by foot to the metro station.

Me (yet again): I am sorry, I am 1 minute late.

Me to a friend: You are two minutes late. You forgot you are Swiss! ;-)

Another friend: I am Italian so let us keep a margin of 15 minutes :D

A notice: Pizza will be served at 12:15 PM

Me: ... and we reached 2 minutes after the restaurant's closing time :-(

Working hours: 8:30 AM – 11:30 AM and 2:30 PM -- 5:30 PM

Another friend: We have 5 minutes between trains, they should be quite sufficient to make a smooth change.

Mason: Sir, I will come to your house at 9:00 AM on Monday
My door bell rings at 9h 00m 15s -- sharp :-)

Summing up, not only the Swiss make the finest time machines in the world but are also passionate about keeping up with what they make :-)

The hotel was reasonable, for the price we paid, atleast it was not as bad as the Paris hotel. Berlin is a nice city. The infrastructure is amazing. The metros are big, the map neatly done and more importantly legible, again unlike Paris. We decided to take a city tour, it is a nice idea. The tour took us all round the city, to the “major attractions”. To the Berlin wall, or whatever of it still stands, to Checkpoint Charlie, to the darkest corner to which human civilization was ever pushed. It also took us to the Jewish museum, an epitome of Daniel Libeskind's modern art, and his manner of putting things as grotesquely as they are supposed to be. The museum, an example of deconstructionist architecture, was described by Libeskind as a way to express "philosophy of deprivation". The building has a labyrinthine architecture and an unconventional zigzag shape. It resembles a child's abrupt scrawl. The structure is replete with sharp corners which, according to Libeskind, represent the misery the Jews underwent. The museum has two voids, empty spaces to commemorate the absence of Berlin Jews (and others) who disappeared during the second world war. One is the Holocaust void, Libeskind describes it as being the "embodiment of absence". Second, the Memory void, which stands in the memory of the disappeared and the dead. The Holocaust void leads to the Holocaust tower; a tall, empty, unheated, damp place. It has no windows except for a small aperture at the top which lets in outside noises. This is symbolic of the world's indifference to the Holocaust. All of it is silently elegant. We were asked to remove and store our jackets at the reception to get a first hand experience of the cold which awaited the Jews, mercilessly. For the first time I had a feeling that modern art is not all that useless. For Libeskind, his analogies are unconventional and his explanations beautiful. The museum is overflowing with articles shared by Holocaust survivors. Typewriters, table lamps, photos, pens -- all of them silently mourning the people who never returned. It was already dark when we came out after which we decided to walk to the hotel. “Look at the map”, someone suggested. Like all other metropolis the Berlin city map is precise with streets impeccably marked. It took us an hour to walk home, but it was fun.

On day 2, we went to see the Brandenburger Tor and then to the Reichtstag. The Reichstag is quite nice, the modern art dome over it is worth taking a look. From that height you can see the whole of Berlin. Later that night we ate at a restaurant on Kantstrasse. This street was close to our hotel, and, amongst others, has a few good and cheap Chinese restaurants. The next day we went to Sanssouci in Potsdam. It is a magnificent cathedral located in a quiet place aloof from the city buzz. For the new year Berlin had hosted a huge street party near the Brandenburger Tor. It was amazing, there were a million people on the street that night! You could dance in the open parties or drink or eat pretzel, Chinese food, or crepes. On that night quite a few Berliners (or I don’t know if they were otherwise) look the solace to leisurely urinate in the the small jungle adjoining the street :P Exactly on the stroke of midnight the sky was light by a zillion fireworks, all kinds, psychedelic, red, green, large, small, yellow, blue, umbrella, flower like, all combinations you could imagine. It was scintillating, outstanding and marvelous, with a million people watching, we felt like a speak.

For the uninitiated, the city was rebuilt after the second world war. All the buildings that were destroyed during the war were reconstructed as they were accounting for the last detail! The next day it snowed in Berlin. It excited us since none of us had seen snow before. We played in the snow for while, then went to see the Berlin wall and Checkpoint Charlie. It reminds you of the dreaded past that the city had, of the people who lost their lives while the wall stubbornly stood to divide them!

It took four and half hours from Solapur to Pune. After that, another three hours from Pune to Mumbai, then three hours to checkin. Then three hours to Dubai followed by a two and a half hour break journey in Dubai. From Dubai it takes another six and half hours to Zurich. Lastly, it takes two hours and twenty-seven minutes (most likely Swiss trains are notoriously punctual, that’s why the twenty-seven :-) ) from Zurich airport to Lausanne. Right now I am in this last leg of a seemingly harmless but exceptionally tiring itinerary. All in all, it has taken roughly twenty-four hours to reach Lausanne from Pune. Howsoever I am used to traveling alone it gets on you -- especially after so many hours. Next time I will pick an airline that flies from Geneva, I have already decided. Flying from Geneva saves about four hours of train travel. I am already feeling the wrath of this sojourn, and that’s apart from missing home and friends. Back in India I met friends who earlier visited UNIL (Université de Lausanne) as exchange students last semester. They are badly missing Lausanne, human nature. Moreover I feel it’s a give and take. Staying in Switzerland has certain advantages vis-à-vis staying in India. But, being Indian I have a natural bias towards India :-) .

Right now, it is sunny here, which is nice :-) But the trees are all dried up, I think it is very early spring. I tried taking pictures of some dissected trees.

I am already craving for spring and its nice, sunny, warm, green, and long days :-) Actually I am craving for a lot many things, I guess its just lack of sleep. The girl sitting in the adjacent cubicle is speaking fluent French but has almost broken and incomprehensible English. This reminds me that I have to find a Tandem partner in this semester. I hope it improves my French *fingers crossed*.

Soon after we reached Interlaken Ost (which roughly translates to "area between the lakes") we found ourselves at the tourist information desk. The lady, in her impeccable English, asked, "What kind of things do you like? Lake Cruise or Mountains?" I looked at Nupur, she answered, "Mountains!" without any second thoughts. The lady continued, "You can either go to Jungfraujoch or to Schilthorn." The next natural question: Which one is better? "It depends on you," she thought aloud, "but Schilthorn is just a mountain terrace." "Then lets try Jungfraujoch," Nupur mused in her soft, mellifluous, and confident voice. While all this happened Sayali was busy talking to a Japanese guy, whom she later described as being very sweet. "The railway station is about 500 meters from here, you can buy tickets for Jungfraujoch there," she gave final instructions.

We walked those five hundred meters through the beautiful Interlaken town to the Interlaken West station where we could get the train for Jungfraujoch. The town is overlooked by Bernese Alps and has open and beautiful streets, so while you shop or stroll you can feel the gentle Alps around you. All of us were slightly concerned about the weather at Jungfrau, which stood at -19 degree celsius. The journey to Jungfraujoch started around lunch. As the train moved out of Interlaken West the view only got better and better. Marvelous! After a while, I felt as though there were two neatly demarcated worlds - one inside the train: artificially warmed, noisy, wonder struck, gay, and amazed. The other outside; placid, untouched, replete, clear, serene, preoccupied, and stopped. It seemed as if the only time this place was touched in the last hundred years or so was when the cog train was carved, which in itself is a brilliant piece of engineering and human endeavor. The train took us to the height of 3,471 meters in about two hours. With increasing altitude the air got thinner. This lack of oxygen made everyone (in the train) sleepy and tired, except for Sayali, this young lady is filled with enthusiasm to the last bit!

We were at the top by late afternoon. There are quite a few things that you can do at the top. You can shop for watches, knives, chocolates, but we did nothing of this. Instead we straight headed for the snow :-) As we imagined, it was extremely cold! It was almost impossible to expose your hand from the glove for taking a picture. Also, hardened snow made the already uneven ground slippery. Sayali managed to loose balance three times, but her enthusiasm never seemed lessened. Then we briefly visited the Ice Palace which hosted statues and carvings made in ice. It was quite nice, although we had to rush back to be in time for the train to Kleine Scheidegg. The descent was as pleasant as the ascent, but we were slightly tired now. We went through Grindelwald and back to Interlaken West, it was 6:30 PM. The town seemed a lot colder than it was in the morning but still we choose to walk to the Interlaken Ost main station. I and Nupur were already contemplating a hot cappuccino with chocolate, just like the one we had in the morning. Sayali, for the first time during the day looked a little enervated, but she managed to smile, as ever. In the train, while Sayali dozed off, I got to know a few interesting things about the revolutionizing early seventeenth century French plays by Molière from the gentle knowledgeable young lady by my side (Nupur). For me, I remembered Goethe's Faust and the pact he signs with the devil. I think Jungfraujoch was one such perfect moment.

Take a simple plot, stew it in great animation, add some fresh screenplay, sprinkle Pixar to taste and you have a delicious Ratatouille! :) The movie, an animated wonder, is about a rat who dreams of being France's greatest chef. I loved watching this movie, it is a great entertainer, just like the The Simpsons Movie. Every of those one-hundred-and-ten minutes are enjoyable. A must watch: I would say.

After the huge hype-up I finally decided to watch Chak de! India -- conflagration of Indian hockey, so to be. For the uninitiated, its about a stint of a former disowned hockey player (played by Shah Rukh Khan) who takes up the not-so-easy-and-not-so-coveted job to coach the Indian Women's hockey team. The movie is a good attempt to make good movies but lacks in several ways. The primary being, the movie is a medley of emotion, drama, racism, casteism, sexism, competition, women power, long boring dialogues, senior bullies, etc.: served all at once -- but where's the hockey? Did I miss it, makes me wonder. Although SRK has played his part quite well, his exceptionally long dialogues are terribly complacent for a hockey coach; or any sports coach per se. The plot is trite, at the end the team wins the hockey world cup. I was relieved to see them win -- atleast here! For me, the movie is way too average, considering the hype-up, or even without that. Or, perhaps I expected a lot while I involuntarily tried to compare it with Million Dollar Baby or Bend It Like Beckham.

Initially I thought it would be just another book about the megapolis. Every year there are scores of movies produced on the same theme -- underworld, gangwars, prostitution, and Mumbai police. But the book is not only about Bombay. It is much more than that. It is about the endless struggle of human beings pushed to their edge. In the end, I got a feeling that every character in the book is right in it's own way. The ruthless murderer, the bar dancers (whom the author refers to as the "sorority of the slashed"), the super-cop, the footpath poet, the man who played women. Everyone is right. They were all pushed to this state by their own tremendous desire to survive and flourish. In turn the society squeezed them from all directions against which their solitary revolt might sound a little ridiculous by normal standards. But you need to look a little closely to understand what forced them to do what they did, sorry, are doing. Not to say Suketu Mehta is brilliant at portraying their dangerous, dismal, yet candid lives.

Out of the many gripping sequences in the book I liked this one the most: once the author asks a ACP-turned-friend about the cheapest supari (contract killing) that he has ever witnessed in his carrier. The ACP narrates a story about a seventeen year boy whom the police had detained in a murder case. After a couple of slaps and punches from the police he confessed his crime; he was not an hardened criminal after all. The ACP asked him how much money did he take to do the job. The boy replied, "fifty". The ACP shouted angrily, "fifty thousand?". "No, fifty rupees", replies the boy. He further explains that he needed a big trampoline sheet to cover his roadside shack for the upcoming rains so he killed the man for this meager sum (of one dollar, roughly). This is a city where people did not kill out of greed, revenge, or rivalry but out of need. For me, Mumbai has always been a city where people lived, in millions.

In the end I found the book shocking and thrilling both at the same time. It was grotesquely different from the books I have been reading recently (about which I did not feel like blogging), the ones where a MI5 agent kills a top military commander in Iraq or where a sixty year old male romances a girl of his daughter's age.