Saturday night, there I was all dressed up and looking pretty, full on with pink toes, glancing with what can only be described as a look of annoyed perplexity at the map in my hands. Good old multimap, the fail safe for all new directional ventures seemed to have let me down. The station was behind me, the road I came down on the map, but this stupid Margravine Gardens was meant to be on the other side of the station. Not where I was hopelessly meandering waiting for divine intervention in that short distance been Baron's court tube station and Matt's house on stupid Tasso road. Stupid map. Stupid suburb in zone 2. A quiet little residential street off the cemetery, lined with neat little houses and not a soul to be found amidst all the quaintness. And why should these domesticated souls be wondering the streets at 8 o'clock on a Saturday waiting to be accosted, might you ask? Well, because I'm bloody well lost aren't I???
So, there I am, a glamorous vision impatiently tapping her toes (well, it might have made for a better effect if I'd had on murderous stilettos, but I can look haughty in chappals as well…maybe), wondering just what the hell to do, when a-ha… a police car, without it's sirens wailing…. that just slowed down to a pause a few feet ahead of me (not surprising as I was standing on the corner, and well, guess it's good policy to follow some of the traffic rules they prescribe for the civilians)… so I tentatively waggled my fingers at them wondering if they might stop en route to their important business and point me on my way… Not that I was hoping for much as my last few encounters with the police in various locales weren't exactly my most glorious moments - Bombay in Dec was to have them ask for my license because I was apparently in a bus lane (yes, really…. A bus lane… in BOMBAY!!), and before that in Spain, a couple of parking tickets, one which I had to pay, and the other for which I can't return to Vejer in case they have my mug shot up at the local taverna, and even before that, in Austria, a hefty fine for speeding (well, for getting caught actually….), but I digress. My tentative waggling was because of those latent but overpoweringly grim memories of the Swiss police. The very same ones took the curve midway up a mountain barely slowing down to peer at us. Us? Four hapless women, at less than their usual stunning selves (3 min. 12 seconds in that weather will do it to you), crawling around the car tyres in the subzero temperatures so characteristic of a charming Swiss winter, making pathetic attempts at putting on snow chains… (as it transpired, they were the wrong size for this bloody car, and no, I have no idea why therefore they were in the boot!!). Did the protectors of the peace commiserate? Check for frostbite? Throw us a bounty bar? Ask for our phone numbers??? Hell no. They looked at us with their patented impassive faces, and just kept driving.
So, thusly, the tentative waggling of the fingers – almost apologetic if you will. A sort of, 'could I possibly have your attention if its really not to much trouble…', without expecting anything really. The driver hadn't noticed me, but there was someone in the back seat who did, and said something to the driver so they came to a full halt in the middle of that tiny street, so I elegantly scurried up and asked them if they could put me in the right direction to Tasso road… hmm what road? T a s s o… ah Tasso – don't know where it is luv, so I conjure up my rubbish map… and we have a confab about that, with me doing my graphic directional hand display, and disparaging the map while I do it (women are so good at multitasking). No joy… they hadn't a clue either, but hey, at least they stopped!!
And now, especially for the Swiss, pay attention…. This is truly the city's finest… 'Tell you what luv, why don't you just pop into the back and we'll drop you off?' 'What?!' really???' 'Yeah – we're dropping him off anyway..' nodding to the bloke in the back. 'If you could, that would be fabulous! Thank you!' and before he could change his mind, I lunged for the rear right door, and slid in as gracefully as a desperately lost woman in chappals can, and lo and behold, the prisoner in the back was this rather good looking chappie…!! Betterer and betterer!!! 'We'll just drop him off first… where are you off to then, a birthday party?' asks the driver chattily, and it's just like being at a tea party. 'actually, it's a barbeque… but it was his birthday a few days ago…' 'Ah, then you should leave behind any bottles you might be carry in the backseat' Uh-oh – he's busting me for alcohol possession?? Ah no – he's been funny, English ishtyle, and I giggle in appreciation and partly with relief… (being Mumbaichi mulgi and whatnot…these things can be stressful)
And then, we're back at Baron's court stn, dropping off the good looking dude, and now we're down to business. 'can you have a look at the map then' driver asks buddy in passenger seat 'don't have my glasses so won't be able to read anything…' uh-oh. He didn't really say that did he? I mean what the hell kind of a policeman goes around in his car, visually impaired??? Naturally, I don't say anything – my mother brought me up with good manners. 'Right luv, you have a look then..' So I do, and we head off in some direction which I'm pretty sure is the wrong one… see, it's not that I don't know my way at all, it's just that I need to be able to find my way through the cemetery but they shut at night. A bit futile if you ask me since no one's really going to leave…! But as usually, yet again, I digress. Where were we? Ah yes, heading the wrong way, when 'what's your name?' 'Apara' (great now he's going to arrest me), 'nice to meet you' and shake his hand with my left returning the sentiment with heartfelt warmth…. I was too surprised to negotiate the right hand around the headrest…. and then I explain as best I can to the driver whose name, rather appallingly, I can't remember, that I think it's in the opposite direction. (that's an awfully long sentence). So we turn in the right direction, and the younger, cuter and blinder officer takes charge, and gets the sat nav going….and starts giving directions. Now, this is too much, and I just can't resist, so I ask… 'you can see that without your glasses?' 'don't you trust him?' 'it's just that he said he couldn't read the map without his glasses, and I'm as blind as a bat without mine….so I was wondering..' Younger, blinder grins and points to the sat nav screen 'I'm just directing him in the general direction of that square, see, that's where Tasso road is'. Hunh. I didn't even see that… but now with his finger pointed at it…. Voila! So we follow his directions, and driver takes us up the wrong way, so we have to reverse… and I ask if they're about to go off shift – can't imagine them, no matter how friendly, just offering minicab services to all directionally challenged folk on the street. And yes, they were, therefore the dropping off of handsome at the station before calling it a night themselves. 'I'm sorry….!' 'oh no – no matter luv, you just have a pint on us..' 'wouldn't you like to come in with me for a drink?' 'ah – most people don't like us coming into their homes…' 'I'm sure Matt's been pretty good this week..' and then, we're turning into tasso road. 'What number was it?' '20' I return pat. Then I'm wondering… is it? Or did I just dream up that figure? Anyway, I get dropped off at Matt's door…and they insist I have a drink for them, but decline my freely bandied offer of generous quantities of Matt's alcohol. So I exit the car and promptly scramble through my bag for my mobile to make sure I don't ring one of his neighbours doorbells, meandering away from #20 and the darling men, are waiting for me…. 'number 20's this one..' and they wait to see me safetly unlatch the gate and walk to the door, before reversing their way out of Tasso road and to whatever pub they'd go to after they knock off work. Muaaah. My money on the Metropolitan police… everytime!! Muaah.
You have to love this country....
You know, I certianly do NOT want this blog to look like a movie review website, but I just can't help myself!! It's been one of those weeks and I'm on film number 3. But that's not the shocker. What is the shocker, is that I'm actually going to roundly recommend this particular film. So peepuls, hold on to your hats, I'm not wasted.... but you MUST go see "Chak De India". LOL! If only I could see your faces. But I kid you not. I went under severe duress (no surprises there), considering that fact that I can't stand Shahrukh Khan, don't give a toss about hockey of any denomination and believe the best way to watch a Hindi film is with a finger on the fast foward button, but hey, thought I'd at least catch up with friends. I sort of invited Emma to join us (was spending the day with her being esoteric over Eggs Benedict for brunch and then photo exhibition at the Tate), but between the Tate and movie start, managed to dissuade her with my dire caveats on her watching of the movie and she decided it was too big a risk to take. Thought I'd cut out during the interval - Hah! I wasn't going till I found out how it ended. Yes, it's about the Indian National Hockey team, the women's team i.e. and SRK is their coach, and yes, there are the requisite moments for SRK to get all emo and blurry eyed and deliver his dialogues with strain, but have to admit, he looked fantastic - all fit and toned. So much so, I wouldn't mind having that come and coach me! But I digress. Contrary to Bollywood belief, the film wasn't about him. It was all about the women, and what a bunch of women. Hard core stereotypes, but just so bloody endearing. Each one of the women had their characters so well defined - physically, emotionally and verbally and it was a treat to watch them in action. The dialogues were their own, at least it felt like it. Actually, that's one of the things about this film. Apart from the garbage SRK spews, everybody else said things that they would have said in real life, and the best line had to be the bewildered English coach pleading for enlightenment, "I'm confused, which one is Didi?". Priceless. The women come across as gutsy, and there are bits, where strong men are portrayed, i.e. those unthreatened by this motley lot who give them their due. For me, the turning point came when the Indian men's team saluted their abilities - kicker of a scene. The hockey matches are a revelation - don't know who the director is (shall Google in a minute), but he's a fucking genius. All of us were on the edges of our seat during the world championships, willing India on, and biting our nails for the tense matches!! For God's sake - Hockey!! Pretty incredible to have managed to get a bunch of jaded, scoffing desi's to this stage. Not sure if the women were all hockey players, or just athletes or stray actresses (esp. the ladies from Jharkhand - you've got to love them, Ho?!). Naturally, there are the typical Hindi movie bits that really annoy you and make you want to slap someone, but hey - all the more reason to apprecaite the best bits of the film of which there are a damn sight more than I would have believed. Hats off to the Women's Hockey team, and if they ever actually start playing at international levell, I'll be buggered if I don't make a valiant effort to follow their efforts! Chak De India!!
Just saw La Vie en Rose a couple of nights ago, and it's a phenomenol movie. It's the only film I've ever been to where at the end, when the screen goes blank, the crowd just sat there in stunned silence.... for a full 45 seconds, before someone started a tenantive applause going, which stuttered across the rest of the audience. None of the usual fidgeting, rushing out of seats the minute the last scene is obvious. Rather eerire to have an entire theatre of people just staring at a blank wall. These French really know how to do death - the ending was really powerful. Sort of like having someone reach in for your guts and twist them around really good before yanking them out.
For the tasteless (and you know who you are), it's a biopic on Edith Piaf, the French crooner. She was given the name Piaf (Sparrow in French) by Louis Leplee, the man that discovered her singing for her supper on the corner of a Parisian Street. It was an incredible life, an incredible woman. When she belts it out, the hairs on your arms stand to attention, and she was a complete diva - talented, temperamental, hard living, gutsy and arrogant. As she says, when her manager fusses over her because she's kept a composer waiting for over two hours "What's the point in being Edith Piaf!" . Marion Cotillard is just superb as Piaf - I have no idea how close the resemblance is, but this is how I'll always think of her. Part fluttering sparrow and part wild animal, both hurling themselves against the bars of a cage. And while she owns the movie, I just have to say that Jean Pierre Martins is entirely edible.
The beginning is a little slow and could possible have done with some tighter editing, but by the time you get to the second half, Edith rules you. An inspiring woman. An inspiring life.
For the tasteless (and you know who you are), it's a biopic on Edith Piaf, the French crooner. She was given the name Piaf (Sparrow in French) by Louis Leplee, the man that discovered her singing for her supper on the corner of a Parisian Street. It was an incredible life, an incredible woman. When she belts it out, the hairs on your arms stand to attention, and she was a complete diva - talented, temperamental, hard living, gutsy and arrogant. As she says, when her manager fusses over her because she's kept a composer waiting for over two hours "What's the point in being Edith Piaf!" . Marion Cotillard is just superb as Piaf - I have no idea how close the resemblance is, but this is how I'll always think of her. Part fluttering sparrow and part wild animal, both hurling themselves against the bars of a cage. And while she owns the movie, I just have to say that Jean Pierre Martins is entirely edible.
The beginning is a little slow and could possible have done with some tighter editing, but by the time you get to the second half, Edith rules you. An inspiring woman. An inspiring life.
Red Bull Air Race World Series 2007
I'm hooked! If there's any of you that's reading this blog who is an F1 fan, this is an absolute must new sport to follow. I HATE flying - motion sickness and whatnot, but I have to say I really enjoyed this experience. It's all about speed, and how good these guys are. Found out about it by default - someone in the company had spare tickets so sent a group email around and I checked out the website http://www.redbullairrace.com/ and well, I had to go. It was fabulous, although the waiting between the quarter finals and semi's was really pakaoing and they only had 2 helicopters doing cool flips and flying backwards to keep you occupied, it was only for a bit of the time. The venue was O2 at Canary Wharf and it was spectacular. These guys are so good, they fly barely a few meters off the water, and unlike F1, they don't actually race together :-) (d-uh: safety reasons... it's in the air), but it's all about the times they turn in. They have a qualifying on Saturday and here the 12 fastest are pared down to the top 8. After that, the eleminations quick in and that's really nerve wracking, coz you could have a better time than someone else following you, but if the guy you're paired with is faster...... it's bye bye baby. Basically, the 8 pilots pair off and race against each other, the faster one winning and moving to the semis. We actually had one of the quarter finalists with a 2 second faster time, but he was beaten by his pair, so got knocked out at this stage. The semis were great, with the times getting tighter and tighter, and no accidents as they zipped through the pylons just meters above the Thames, and finally, after a Mexican wave that looked more like a tidal wave across the banks of the Thames (both sides, in case you were wondering) start off, much to the dismay of the exceedingly partisan London crowd, Mike Mangold clipped the local hero Paul Bonhomme by 2 seconds plus change (as the American commentator was wont to say) - great stuff. Really spectacular, and fun as well, coz it's all to blaring music - really sexy stuff. The 3 place podium semis actually had the Bond theme going, so it was just too cool for words. London was the 6th of the series for this year, and they've already done exotic locales like Abu Dhabi, Rio de Janerio, Turkey and Interlaken and just the venues make this quite an addictive sport. Now that I've added air racing to my list of motorsports to follow, I'm hoping that one of these days, I'll get to watch it in Rio. Maybe this would be a good time to start the SEND APARA TO RIO FUND :).
Phew. Up and running again after ages. Feels like I’ve been away for sooo long. But with my new and improved go with the flow philosophy, I haven’t really missed it at all. Strange are the ways of the world and the human mind. It’s now been a month since I’ve been back and it’s been fantastic. The weather has been crap, unbelievable rain and enough floods all over the country to give Bangladesh an inferiority complex. Still, it doesn't seem to be bothering me in the least - au contraire, now I have the ammo to combat tall stories about flooding in Mumbai. Just got back after a HUMOUNGOUS lunch at Chennai Dosa where we demolished a couple of thalis, idlis, vadas, masala dosa, rawa dosa, mysore masala and paper dosas before rounding it off nicely with malai and pista kulfis. YUMMMM!! Feeling quite sick now, and don't think I want to have any close encounters with South India anytime in the near future. Well, not until September anyway :).
Back in the office after a few hours at home and the sun is slanting in through the windown hitting my phone and screen. And the corner of my eye. Finally, after a whole day of gloomy damp. Some summer this has been. Back from Canada now for a little over two weeks and it's been a strange experience. While I was there, I had decided to go back to Bombay, and it seemed to be an epiphany when one of my bacchas sent an email saying they were looking for someone to head up the C&W Client Solutions team in India and would I be interested, because he thought I was perfect. Came back, had a few discussions with C&W Asia about the job and even spoke to my boss - not about the possible job, but that I wanted to go back. He's been fantastic. First giving me the time off to go to Vancouver, and getting me paid for the entire time I was away to boot. He said he'd hate to lose me and several other nice things that make it so hard to leave, but then rounded off by saying he understood and that I needed to do what was best for me. Of course, I should think about it, and maybe do a list of pros and cons to help me decide.... told him I'd already decided, which was when he went to into full mode about how the company wouldn't want to lose me and if I wanted to go back should mega boss talk to CEO of Asia to get me a job. If not, he had a client who was looking to set up something for a year in HK, and I would be perfect. So many options... suddenly the choice becomes that much harder. When there's nothing to chose from, who cares. But the way they appreciate you here.... it's special.
But that's not just it. It's the combination of the great work place here, my boss, and the fact that while the India opportunity is great, the money sucks and more importantly, it'll be a 24/7 job even if I do have the flexibilty to work from home, etc, not to mention the petty politics that Asia thrives on. I don't want to go back to that. More to the point, since I've been back from Canada, despite the mostly dreadful weather, I've been happy to be back. Feel good about myself and being back and well, don't want to leave. There's still so many things I want to do - and sitting out most of the Saturday cowering behind a couple of umbrellas at Wimbledon is not the least of it. There's Silverstone and the Hungarian grand prix for next year, trips to Berlin, Portugal, Scandinavia and Croatia that I want to do, my yoga and pilates and well, the friends I've made. Most of all, I feel good about being here by myself. Things between Velu and me are great and I'm so much happier. Sarolta's back in Budapest and Somya's pushing off to India at least for a bit, but despite that, I want to stay. Work is going great, everyone loves me and I'm working on a special project with the CEO and head of HR, so there's lots happening.
It's funny, but when you think about the decision you have to make, it's so hard, but somehow, things just do seem to fall into place, and suddenly you're doing things that are contrary to the decision you've made. It happens instinctively, and there's no 'is this the right thing to do'. So, I'm off flat hunting - a 12 month lease with an option to break at 6. Spoke to the MD for CS Asia to tell him that I was leaning towards staying and that he should get someone else, no matter how right he thought I was and what a wonderful opportunity it is, blah, blah, told mega boss that I was having a change of heart. And get this, he asked if it was because of the pitch that we'd just won. That we've been working on for a while now, for which I came back to London, for my client. And when I said no, he said good. Because if I'd said yes, he'd have thought I was crazy. Don't make a decision based on work. Get your personal life straight, and the rest will sort itself out. Good guys here. Not staying for work, but it's not how the Indian's think. So for now, I guess I'm staying.
Oh. Forgot to mention. Got my navel pierced. My very own mid life crisis, but it looks great ;-o
But that's not just it. It's the combination of the great work place here, my boss, and the fact that while the India opportunity is great, the money sucks and more importantly, it'll be a 24/7 job even if I do have the flexibilty to work from home, etc, not to mention the petty politics that Asia thrives on. I don't want to go back to that. More to the point, since I've been back from Canada, despite the mostly dreadful weather, I've been happy to be back. Feel good about myself and being back and well, don't want to leave. There's still so many things I want to do - and sitting out most of the Saturday cowering behind a couple of umbrellas at Wimbledon is not the least of it. There's Silverstone and the Hungarian grand prix for next year, trips to Berlin, Portugal, Scandinavia and Croatia that I want to do, my yoga and pilates and well, the friends I've made. Most of all, I feel good about being here by myself. Things between Velu and me are great and I'm so much happier. Sarolta's back in Budapest and Somya's pushing off to India at least for a bit, but despite that, I want to stay. Work is going great, everyone loves me and I'm working on a special project with the CEO and head of HR, so there's lots happening.
It's funny, but when you think about the decision you have to make, it's so hard, but somehow, things just do seem to fall into place, and suddenly you're doing things that are contrary to the decision you've made. It happens instinctively, and there's no 'is this the right thing to do'. So, I'm off flat hunting - a 12 month lease with an option to break at 6. Spoke to the MD for CS Asia to tell him that I was leaning towards staying and that he should get someone else, no matter how right he thought I was and what a wonderful opportunity it is, blah, blah, told mega boss that I was having a change of heart. And get this, he asked if it was because of the pitch that we'd just won. That we've been working on for a while now, for which I came back to London, for my client. And when I said no, he said good. Because if I'd said yes, he'd have thought I was crazy. Don't make a decision based on work. Get your personal life straight, and the rest will sort itself out. Good guys here. Not staying for work, but it's not how the Indian's think. So for now, I guess I'm staying.
Oh. Forgot to mention. Got my navel pierced. My very own mid life crisis, but it looks great ;-o
The pressure!!
Bugger! This blog thingy is getting stressful with people keeping tabs on when I've last posted stuff :-). It has been a while though and Sarolta, this one's for you - oh yeah! and it took all afternoon. Canada's been a revelation - mostly Usha driven!! It's just fucking unbelievable, but she is really bloody super mom! And for anyone who knew her, it takes some getting used to :-). Am hungry so am going to scrounge for some lunch. I actually want to finish, well, start my bit on the Budapest trip, but the only thing I can think to write about is the Ishler!!! :-). More on that later - it's making me hungrier.
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