Snippets from Eastern Europe & French Riviera, Sep 2011

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ROOM KEYS PLEASE!

Budapest; 29^th August, 2011

Our hotel receptionist in Hungary said that “we have the most beautiful women in Europe” in response to a query of what were the Hungarian specialities, the other two being Goulash (a beef stew) and the Hungarian language.

Granted the receptionist was pretty and helpful, I’ll give her the benefit of doubt on Hungarians being the most beautiful women (as this is my first stop in Europe) but I still don’t think her beauty could justify my husband’s forgetting to return the room keys and carrying them all the way to Vienna! Or I could look at it as a good example of “beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder”!

NOT-SO-FRESH TOWELS

Vienna; 29^th August, 2011

Much as I like brown hair (and have made several failed attempts to colour my black hair brown) I was not at all happy to see a few strands of golden brown hair when I grabbed a “fresh towel” to wipe my face after checking into what was claimed as a 4star hotel.

120 SECONDS IN ITALY  

Autostrada A2; 1^st September, 2011

When it comes to driving long distances I am invariably the navigator. Not because I am a master navigator but because my driving skills are limited. I can only drive an automatic car at a maximum speed of 100 km/hr, am always on the slowest lane if it’s a highway and prefer not to change lanes even when it seems that I am stuck forever behind a RV or a truck.

Since European cars are mostly manual ones, the driving from Vienna to Heiligenblut in the Austrian Alps was being done by my husband. The nearly 500 km distance was being covered smoothly until the navigator (yours truly) fell asleep at the most inopportune moment. After driving south on A2, we had to take A10 towards Spittal and continue on Route 100 and 107 to Heiligenblut. Instead we went steadily down south on A2 as I snoozed.

By the time I woke up and realised that we were headed in the wrong direction, it was too late. We had almost reached the border town of Arnoldstein from where there was no way to turn back. With no other option, we went straight to Italy (thank god for the Schengen visa) where there was a check post but our car was not checked and continued south in Italy until we could find a U-turn (which was not more than 2 minutes).

Thanks to me, Italy also made it to the list of countries, in our Europe 2011 trip, with a bang. However, we returned a few days later to explore the Dolomites, which was again not part of the original plan. More on that later…

FREE BELGIAN CHOCOLATES
Cannes; 12^th September, 2011

Opposite to our studio apartment in Cannes, where we’re staying for a week, was Leonidas – a shop selling ‘fresh Belgian chocolates’. On our second day of stay we strayed in to a display of various dark and semi dark goodies. I chose a dark one. I am a person who has tasted up to 92% cocoa (was a bit bitter even for my taste) and when the shopkeeper said that my first selection had orange inside it, I was abhorred.

Rejecting that, I told the handsomely tanned man behind the counter, “I want dark.”
“Bitter? Sweet?”
“Bitter,” I said, and he pointed out a few options.

I chose a rectangular block and when Santa asked, “How much?”, he handed over the two pieces and said, “Have a nice day”, with a bright smile. Free ‘fresh Belgian chocolates’! And I didn’t even have to put my charms on display ;-)

Btw, the chocolates were really fine. They just melted in the mouth…a perfect balance of bitter and sweet...rich and decadent…

CAP d’AIL
French Riviera; 13^th September, 2011

After Santa finished ‘working from France’, we decided to explore the coastline via train. Went to the Cannes train station where we obtained a day pass of unlimited train travel for 12E per person. This was a summer special and was waaay cheaper than the actual fares.

Finally boarded the 4:16 train but, realized that it wasn’t going to Cap d’Ail, our destination for the day. Cap d’Ail is a small town, near Monaco, and is known for the La Mala Beach, a 10-15 minute walk downhill from the train station.

We got down at Nice to board the next train which would take us to Cap d’Ail. Between trains we had enough time to go to the Office du Tourisme, gather a map and find out what to do in Nice. When I said we had one hour to spare, the tourism officer straightaway directed us to the Old Town, which we decided to explore on the way back.

The walk down to the beach, along the coast, with the deep blue sea and the sky meeting in the horizon, was simply beautiful. There were steps in between stretches of slope which led out into the ocean. Where you could sunbathe or make it your own li’l picnic spot by the sea.

La Mala Beach was very beautiful and very calm and serene. The beach was a pebbly one, like most beaches of the French Riviera. Though I liked the landscape and the scenery, the beach was not my type. It had some sort of snootiness associated with it, or so I felt. In all probability it was due to the 2-3 fashionable beach restaurants lining the shore and also the yachts dotting the waterscape. It could also be due to the fact that most of the people had left by the time we reached, which was around 6 or so, and the few people around did not exude any warmth.

The place was ideal for snorkeling as the landscape was rocky and there were a few caves which looked dark and haunted, to say the least. We saw a few people snorkeling around. On seeing the cave, Santa recalled how scared he had been when he had tried to enter the cave after swimming up to it. (He had been here earlier, in 2004. The photo is from that time. We didn’t take our camera this time)

Since we hadn’t had anything to eat after my home cooked breakfast of stuffed omelette, we decided to grab a bite. Unfortunately the kitchen of the restaurant we went to was closed. There were some chocolate croissants on the counter and we grabbed two of those along with two glasses of strawberry milkshake.

After snacking we started the climb back to the station and took the train to Nice.

FAUX PAS IN FRANCE
Nice; 13^th September, 2011

On the way back from Cap d’Ail, got down at Nice, as planned earlier, to explore the Nice Old Town. To rest our tired feet, and my aching back, after exploring Vieux Nice, we decided to make use of the happy hour being advertised by an Irish pub.

We sat outside, next to a table where there was a man, probably in his 50s, accompanied by an attractive female in a sleek black top, who looked much younger.

A “smoking hot” (you can well imagine whom I quote here) waitress, in pink and white chequered hot pants and a black spaghetti, with kohl lined eyes came up with the menu. I selected a Radler – a mix of lemonade and beer – my only other drink in Europe this time, apart from wine and at times water; while Santa opted for a Kilkenny. An Irish beer, Kilkenny’s history goes as far back as the 14^th century, and is a lighter version of Guinness.

Waiting for the waitress to come back and take our orders, we tried to eavesdrop on the conversation in the next table. They spoke in English and since it didn’t turn out to be interesting enough, we switched back to people watching and conjuring up stories about them. This is the best part of Europe. You can sit in a café and let the world go by without anybody bothering you.

In the meanwhile, another waitress, in a black top, passed by with a smile but without taking our orders. Santa was getting impatient now and so when he saw this woman in a black top walking towards us he geared up. As the lady neared our table, he flashed a bright smile and drooled a “Hi”, while his hands started turning the pages of the menu. While the “Hi” was reciprocated with a confused smile, she hastened her steps when she saw the menu.

Turned out the lady was the one sitting at the next table! All this even before he’d had a drink! I couldn’t hold my laughter even as he tried to explain that he was confused by the black top. Or maybe it was the lack of a drink the whole day that led to this faux pas. Finally we got our Radler and Kilkenny…served by the “smoking hot” waitress…

ONE NIGHT STAND WITH NICE

Nice; 13th Sep, 2011

After our drink, we took a stroll towards the Promenade des Anglais and the beaches lining it. The beaches were all pebbly, which are perfectly alright if you have your shoes on. Walking barefoot on pebbly beaches is quite difficult, I must admit. But on the other hand, pebbles are much better when you come out of the water. No trying to get rid of the sand sticking to your body all the way to the bathroom. I realized that an ideal combination for me was a pebbly beach but one which becomes sandy as you go into the waters. Getting into the waters across the pebbles is quite a balancing act (and one at which I suck). I guess my demands are too many. Anyway…coming back…

The promenade was lit up as far as we could see. It was a full moon night and the moon had made its appearance behind the citadel of the Old Town, situated up on the hills. We captured the scene in our mind’s camera as we didn’t carry a physical one. Stretching out in front of us was the curve of the Baie des Anges. Behind us was a lively world of laughter and companionship, a world of aromas – of food, of wine, of smoke – of love, of life.

We returned to that world from the beach and though not too hungry, the line of restaurants was too much to resist. So we sat down for a crepe and a glass of wine (of course!). After placing our orders, we spotted paella on the menu but it was too late to change. Probably I am destined to have paella in Spain! (I hope someone’s listening to this ;-)

By the time we finished dinner, it was almost 22:00 hours. Our target was to take the 22:34 train back to Cannes, and to do that we needed to some brisk walking, if not jog. We’d have made it had I not seen an array of souvenir shops and if Santa hadn’t told me that we could always take the next train an hour later, at 23:34. Before he could complete his words I had disappeared into one of the shops.

After browsing around and window shopping we reached the train station around 23:15. When we looked up at the information board, it said the next train to Cannes was at 06:23 hours. Puzzled we searched the board again, but there was no train to Cannes at 23:34 pm. We looked around for the information counter and then we notice a printout in big bold letters saying that the last train to Cannes from Nice was at 22:34 hours. The reason was “travail” (French for work) in the line.

At this point, we recalled that the lady at the ticket counter had told us specifically that the “last train from Monaco was at 22:03” which would reach Nice at 22:34 hours. We had preferred a mute printed timetable over her updated information and were about to pay the price for that. I looked around and saw that we were not the only ones. There were at least a dozen other people who were in a similar situation. Among them was a Southeast Asian lady who had a flight the next day and she was desperate to reach her destination. 

So, we had missed a train. Now what? There were three options:

1. We could take a taxi and go to Cannes

2. We could spend the night at a hotel in Nice, i.e., if any were available

3. Spend the whole night at a club. Clubs here are typically open till 5-6 am

Option #3 was almost immediately vetoed by Santa with the reason that the next day will be wasted due to lack of sleep, etc. Signs of ageing?

Option #1 looked pretty expensive as the two-three taxi drivers we approached quoted a fare of 100E to Cannes. 100E!

Now for option #2.

Started walking away from the station towards the city. On the way came across a dorm which was full, a hotel which charged 80E for two persons and another hotel with a similar price. The price of 80E made us wonder whether it is better to take a cab, because staying back means we’ve to purchase tickets the next day which cost 24E for two. Essentially, it was the same. We decided to explore some more. Found a cheap one at 24E per person, but there was no vacancy. Damn! At this point I was reminded of a similar experience last year in Rome, where we kept 'Roming' in the dark for a room and had to pay an exorbitant amount for a few hours!

Deciding that the next hotel would be the last one we explored, we walked into a hotel which announced a rate of 48E for a double room. Were rooms available there? Yes! We went straight for the reservation. The young man at the reception was busy video chatting on Skype and smoking. Realising we were potential customers for the night he paused everything.

We got a room on the 3rd floor. It was a slice of space, complete with carpet and pictures hanging on the wall. Even the red colour of the carpet could not hide the abuse it had received from spilt wine. The windows did not close and thank god for the curtains. Turning a blind eye to everything we set the alarm at 6:00 am and plopped on to bed.

We reached Cannes the next day around 8:00 am.

Death Valley Revisited

With Rajesh & Aparajita
flew to rajesh's place @ irvine. drove to death valley the next day. stayed at hotel amargosa for the night, an eerie haunted opera house converted to a hotel.
stayed at ... the next night.
came back the next day with rajesh wanting to go to vegas to gorge on the buffets. but it got too late. so went to a schezwan place in a strip mall. food was extremely hot.

Seattle & Vancouver

2nd anniversary

Houston & Austin

Banff & Jasper & BC

The Maitis' Road Trip

from golden gate to crater lake to redwood np to tahoe

Yosemite...again

with my parents

Washington -- the Green State

NYC, NY

stayed at konkona's place. visited tipu.
visit was marred by rain. and the one day it didn't rain we spent it at the Met.
had dinner at a ethiopian place -- queen of sheba -- recommended by rajesh. was a good one. not like the overhyped mesa grill where rajesh and apu had quite a shock.

Sea World, San Diego

Mono Lake & Death Valley

photography trip

Yosemite for the first time

Devasmita came to spend her christmas with us and we took for to yosemite. it was a land of snow snow and more snow everywhere.

The Canadian Rockies

visit to banff and jasper national parks with my in-laws. highlights of the trip -- the rockies and the food at my uncle's place!

Crater Lake in Winter

presidents day holiday in feb 2008, went to crater lake in icy conditions in the yellow benz which put up quite a show fishtailing on the icy road. and for the first time i saw santapc, who is renowned for speeding, letting other cars pass. he could very well have been stopped for driving too slowly (like he once was in yosemite in 2005?)

Live Slow Sail Fast

Pick a Pearl

It was our last day in Kauai. Our plans of going to the Waimea Canyon were washed out by the incessant rain which started in the wee hours of the morning. My sadness at not being able to see the Canyon in all its grandeur was soon forgotten when I realized that the rains presented a perfect opportunity for some shopping. Up until this point my husband, Santa, had resisted my attempts at shopping with the excuse that there was no more space in our bags (which was sort of true). But is space an absolute requirement? Depends on what you buy, right? Now if you buy diamonds and pearls, you don’t need any space at all. Anyway…I had no plans of giving my husband that kind of shock.
Coming back to the story. I decided it was time for some Hilo Hattie shopping. I had been hearing about Hilo Hattie (HH) from Maui but didn’t find the opportunity to visit it on the previous three islands, and my purse was now bursting with all the HH discount coupons I had been collecting from all sorts of magazines -- in the hotels to the airplanes -- some of them as old as 2008. Never harmed anyone to have an extra piece of paper.
Upon entering the store we were greeted by a lady with a bright smile and shell leis. (Over 40 years in business HH is apparently the largest Hawaiian retailer and manufacturer of Hawaiian fashions in Hawaii.)The shell leis proved to be a perfect souvenir – one of them hangs from the rearview mirror of my car and the other adorns a photo frame.
As we were browsing the store I spotted a section in the middle dedicated to pearls which belonged to Maui Divers Jewelry (MDJ). Seeing no one behind the counter I started surveying the various colors and designs of the pearls on display. I was so engrossed in those exquisite beauties that I had not noticed the appearance of a salesperson at the scene until she startled me with her very friendly, “May I help you?”
“Umm…I was just looking around…” I replied as I got ready to walk away. Since I had no intention of buying any I didn’t want to waste either my or the salesperson’s time and energy. Added to this was my distrust of sales personnel who can persuade you to buy things which are totally indispensable. As I was planning my escape Santa popped up beside me, done with his browsing of the entire HH store.
“Like anything?” he asked me.
“Nah…just looking,” I said.
As we were about to leave, the lady chipped in once again, “Have you heard about our pick a pearl?”
(Me) “No”
(Santa) “What’s that?”
And we were stuck. Pointing to a big white oyster shaped bowl filled with an assortment of oysters on the counter, the lady explained that we could pick an oyster of our choice and then have the pearls inside it (if there were any) mounted right there. Jewelry to go! As if that was not enough there was also a lottery where we could win discount coupons for the pearls. I mumbled something about not being interested, a feeble protest at best, as my inherent distrust for discount coupons (because more often than not there’s a catch involved) was succumbing rapidly to the thrill and suspense. The more I tried to resist the more I was being lured into the whole thing. And Santa wasn’t helping either by egging me on.
Now why was I resisting so hard or at least trying to? Because all the discounts and rebates are designed to attract the shopper’s attention in such a manner that they ultimately end up buying things which they probably didn’t even need in the first place. And right now the same thing was happening to me. I wouldn’t have minded winning a precious pearl if I liked it; but I wasn’t too fond of pearls, yet I was participating. Anyway…
We took part in the lottery. Santa put his hand inside a hexagonal bowl full of colored paper chits and fished out a pink one, which announced a 60% discount. Not bad. We were too deep into this. I had to do something. So I told the lady that we’d finish our shopping and then maybe come back. She totally understood and let us go with a sweet smile. Probably because she knew that we’d be back very soon.
And much of the credit for that goes to my husband. While shopping for other things I had regained some of my guard but apparently not enough because Santa persuaded me to give it a shot. The proponent of enthusiasm and logical thinking that he is he explained that 60% off of 14$ (the cost of the pearl) was a meager amount. And if we there was no pearl inside our oyster, even better. No money spent. Either ways there was nothing to lose. So half an hour later we were back at the MDJ corner.
The lady was all smiles. She gave us a pair of tongs and asked to pick an oyster from the big white bowl. Since Santa had done the lottery this time I got to try my luck.
“Do all of them have a pearl inside?” I asked.
“It may have, it may not have. Sometimes they may have two,” she said. And as a hint she let out that the uglier the oyster the more chances of it having a pearl. With that hint in mind I tossed and turned the oysters with the tongs until I decided that I had found one ugly enough. Once my selection was done the lady took over and performed a aloha ritual, as she called it, where we were asked to say aloha three times together with her. And then she slid open the shell of the oyster and felt its insides searching for the pearl. Amidst all of this the anticipation was building on our side. And then she found it. It was a pink one. She placed the beautiful thing on a tray and resumed her search. And lo behold! Out came one more pink pearl. Wow! That’s great. I thanked Santa in my mind. “Two pearls…means you’ll have twins,” the lady said with a bright smile. Now that’s some totally uncalled for surprise!
She then drilled a hole in each of them so that it could be mounted. I didn’t want to go into any sort of mounting because it would be expensive. Again Santa encouraged me to explore the designs. Since there were two pearls the lady showed me mountings for earrings. I selected a tiny one with a silver body. The price was $350. I haven’t been stung by a sting ray but I’m pretty sure it’ll be very similar to the shock I felt on hearing the price. I knew it would be expensive but had no idea that it would be ultra expensive. Even my over enthusiastic ever encouraging husband was taken aback. I could hear him muttering under his breath “pachhondota to besh bhaloi”. When I declined she showed me another one that was ‘less expensive’ another tiny mounting that would cost only $280. And all these prices were before tax and the mounting charge. Santa smiled at me and said, “Do you like it? If you like it you can take it…” Much as he encouraged me (with a fearful panting heart I am sure) I didn’t fall for any of it and just took the drilled pearls in a Ziploc and walked away triumphantly. I wonder what he’d have done if I had said yes to the mounting!
Later on when we were relating this story to a friend and his wife they said that apparently all the oysters in the MDJ pick a pearl program have two pearls in them; it is alleged that they are injected artificially. They knew three other people who had done the same thing and got two pearls and all of them were told that they’d have twins. We don’t know if any of them have had twins. As for me I am in no hurry to find out.

Photo link @ Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/santapc/sets/72157623167395564/

¡Picante!

I pretty much disliked guacamole till one afternoon lunch. Me and my husband were in downtown Cancun and went in for lunch at a beach side restaurant. As Bengalis, our love for fish is nothing new and being in Mexico we decided to try out different types of fish. This time we ordered a baked fish (I think it was trout) served on a bed of rice. The waitress served us hot tortilla chips along with some salsa and half-an-hour later the fish arrived in a huge platter wrapped in aluminum foil. It looked and smelt so grand once the foil was removed -- two big pieces of fish marinated in spices and baked to perfection.
“Can we have some salsa?” my husband asked the waitress.
"Picante?" she asked.
My software engineer husband processed the English equivalent of picante and a moment later he appproved of picante. So our picante arrived in a tiny red bowl a minute later. It was a darkish-green colored paste. Our lunch was going along fine...the marriage of all the spices tingled our taste buds...until I decided to smear a piece of my fish with a little bit too much of the green paste. And that was when all hell broke loose (to use a very clichéd phrase). There was fire in my mouth. I could feel steam gushing out through my ears as my nose started watering and my whole face turned red. I gulped down a liter of ice cold water in no time. (Normally I don't take cold water and always remind the servers to give me water with 'no ice', not 'without ice' but ‘no ice’ because they don't seem to understand 'without ice'.) But nothing seemed to improve. If there was a water drinking competition at the time I’d have won it hands down. Meanwhile my husband was busy taping my condition on camera and with a smiling face told me "Have the guacamole".
If it had not been for the fire in my mouth I wouldn’t have let him go for enjoying himself at my expense. But my priorities were different now and I did just as he told. After having one spoonful of the guacamole, a thing which I disliked until now the burning sensation seemed to lessen by quite a considerable amount and I gulped down two-three spoonfuls in quick succession until things came back to somewhere near normal. Who knew that two different types of green could have so widely differing effects on the human palate? After everything came back to normal I had a look at the green paste. It was simple green chili paste--pure and unadulterated. And at that time the chips in my husband’s memory started processing and he remembered that picante meant ‘hot’ and not ‘pickle’!
Photo Link @ flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/santapc/sets/72157605835960902/

{Unfortunately the hard disk in which the video clip of this entire episode was stored crashed beyond retrieval :( }. Here is a view from the eatery.