When bad things happen to good people...

Once upon a time, there was a wonderful girl. She was a very good person. Who always had good intentions. One day, this wonderful, good girl, decided to go on a detox diet. She even convinced her devil incarnate friend, who we shall refer to here as Jon, to join her on the detox diet. Jon agreed to do it, albeit begrudglingly.

For the first two days, everything was perfect. The wonderful girl had nothing but fruits, vegetables, and salads and soup for lunch and dinner. On the third day, the wonderful girl had dinner plans with her wonderful friend. For the sake of this story, we shall call him Chris. Chris knew that the wonderful girl had a dark and terrible secret. She was addicted to Fondue. Only Chris was privy to this deep, dark, shameful secret. Okay maybe the whole world knew about her secret, but only HE had the power to use it to his advantage. Okay that's not really true, but let's just pretend it was. Anyway, on the third day of the diet, Chris uttered the F word on the tram. This powerful word shattered the wonderful girl's world. All of a sudden, the only thing she wanted was Fondue. She couldn't function like a normal person. She started wailing on the tram. People were staring, but she remained unmoved.

She begged Chris to allow her to focus on her diet, but he insisted that they go for fondue. Despondent, she had no choice but to follow him there. Now, if you come across this Chris guy, he may give you a different version of this story. HE may say that HE tried to get this wonderful girl to stick to her diet, and that SHE insisted that they go for fondue. He may claim to not even know where the restaurant was located. But don't be food by his charming smile. For under that charm lies the heart of an evil kingpin, who can fool you into doing his bidding anytime. I mean, look at this wonderful girl here:



Does this face look it belongs to the wonderful girl who made the decision to go have fondue herself? Or does it look like she was forced to go there? I mean, if the tears that you can almost see glistening in her eyes don't make you believe the latter, then I don't know what will.

In the meantime, the actual devil incarnate Jon was made aware of such flagrant violations of the diet. But Jon, being the devil incarnate, allegedly already foresaw such developments and therefore broke his diet even earlier by indulging in cake therapy. The moral of this story is that wonderful girls should never hang out with devil incarnates or with evil kingpins, for they have the power to ruin people's lives. Or at least their diets. Let this be a lesson for all. That is all.

The world is coming to an end

Why, you ask? Because something incredible is happening as we speak. Something no one thought possible. Something that will go down in annals of history as the definining moment that changed the world as we know it. Generations have waited for this moment. Protests were launched for it. People risked their lives for it. And the moment is this: I'm going on a diet.

Yes, you read it right, and you read it here first. I am going on a 7-day detox diet. You may have thought that I was going to comment on the crisis in Egypt, but there's enough coverage about that historic event already. On the other hand, not a SINGLE newspaper has come to me to talk about my diet. So I've decided to take matters in my own hands and blog about it.

You see, when I got back from New York earlier this week, I planned to blog about all the insane amount of food I had eaten there. And believe me when I say this: it was insane. Just making a list of all the different things I ate took up an entire page. Going through the list also helped me resolve the mystery of my expanding waistline. I knew that something had to be done. And so I decided to do the 7-day detox diet, not really to lose weight, but mainly to cleanse my palate, so I can try to stop being in a constant state of craving. Today is Day 1, which is only fruit and veggie soup. To say that it's not going well would be an understatement. I see cupcakes floating around me, and people are starting to look like banana pudding. I'm sure there's something wrong with this picture, but I just can't figure out what.

On a related note, I'm sure you are aware that there is a lot of eveil in this world. And some of these evil people have no shame and would never think twice about sitting next to you in the cafeteria with a plateful of raclette, KNOWING that you are on a diet. I demand that such people be slapped. Some other people will also have no shame and will bring up the names of all the wonderful things that you ate while in New York. Such people's heads need to be shaved. And on that not-at-all violent note, I'm going to make me a wonderful fruit salad and have some delicious (not) soup. If I'm alive this time next week, I'll be back. If not, well, it was good knowing you. May the force be with you. Amen.

New York, New York!

Oh New York, how have I missed thee. Ten minutes into being back in the city, I was under a dual pronged cold and wind attack, witnessed a large woman yelling at a cab driver, and sat in a cab that smelled really bad. And I felt like I was home.

I'm not going to lie, most of this week has been spent eating and shopping. I'm staying with one of my best friends for part of the trip, so there has also been a lot of "chin wagging" going on. That's right - apparently I talk so much that I'm considered a "chin wagger". Certain people from the Land of the Queen coined this phrase to specifically be able to describe just how much I talk. One day when I'm done being mad about it, I might even find it amusing.

Anyway, I digress. Due to the fact that I'm only back for ten days, each meal matters. So the day I landed, I went to the nearest Chipotle, had a veggie burrito bowl, and cried in joy after the first bite. After being able to check off one of the food joints off my long list of restaurants, I made my way to Fifth Ave. By this time, the wind had picked up and I was also under the influence of food, so before I knew it, I was walking out of Aerosoles with a pair of boots. I don't quite remember how that happened. One minute I was simultaneously cursing the gods because of the frigid weather and thanking them for inventing Chipotle, and next minute I found myself holding a pair of brown suede boots. I guess god does work in mysterious ways.

The next day, I went to Crate and Barrel with a handy list of 54 items that I needed to buy for my new apartment in Zurich. I ended up buying out pretty much the entire store. I believe they shut down right after I was done because they ran out of everything. In fact, I bought so much stuff that I needed to make three trips to carry it all back to my friend's apartment. I made two trips that day alone, and decided to make the third and final trip the following day.

I went to Macys yesterday, and I kid you not, I just lost it. Do you know just how hard it is to find petite clothing in Europe, where everyone is 800ft. tall? You think solving the economic crisis is challenging? Try being five feet tall in a country where the average woman is 5'8. You will understand devastation. And only when you have experienced such devastation will you truly appreciate the power of Macys. Swimming in a sea of petite sized clothing and hanging out with Michael Kors handbags while coveting Via Spiga shoes was just too much for me to handle. I was walking around the store looking like a freak, with a huge smile plastered on my face. I think I scared all the sales associates at the store. One of them even came up to me and asked me if I was alright. I have lived in New York long enough to realize that no one really smiles here, so I immediately understood her concern and rearranged my face to depict a sulk, which was a much more appropriate look for the city.

After I was done with Macys, I went to Kati Roll (another one of the places from my list) for a quick lunch, and suddenly found myself holding four different dresses in the dressing room at Lord and Taylor. The exact events that led to me getting possession of these clothes are a blur, much like the Aerosoles incident from the night before. By this time, exhaustion was starting to rear its ugly head, but I was determined not to let it win. So I decided to mix it up a little and ended up going to Barnes and Noble for a bit and picked up a few books.

All this culminated in me going to Crate and Barrel to pick up part 3 of my shopping collection. Even the sales associate who brought out the remaining items from the warehouse looked at me in awe. Probably because he was thinking, "how can a tiny person like you POSSIBLY need SO. MUCH. STUFF?" But I like to awe people and boggle their mind, so I just gave him my best mysterious look and left the store with a grand total of 4 bags and 3 boxes. The associate wasn't sure how I'd even make it out of the store with so much stuff. But if there's one thing a woman knows, it's how to shop AND how to haul it all back.

This weekend, I've decided to take a mini-break from shopping, in order to devote all my attention to eating. I am visiting family in Jersey, and have only now recovered from the food coma that I was in for the last three hours. I'm now going to bed to ensure that I have enough sustenance to deal with all the food related plans that I have for tomorrow. Good night, and hope you have a good food-related weekend!

Nearly a year later...

I'll be visiting New York again in a week! I need to go back to wrap some loose ends, get all my stuff out of storage and have it shipped over to Zurich, since this is now my temporary permanent home. I am already daydreaming about:

- FOOD
- SHOPPING
- catching up with family
- catching up with friends
- dessert
- brunch anywhere in the Meatpacking district
- Falafel at 2am in the West Village

I have at least twenty other things to add to that list, but they all basically pertain to either eating or shopping. My pre-Zurich life was so vastly different from my current one that I don't know how much of it I'll even remember or recognize! It will still make for an interesting story, I'm sure :)

Greetings from a land far, far away!

Greetings earthlings! As most of you know, I'm currently on vacation in Mumbai, India. I grew up here until I was about seventeen, which is when I moved to the U.S. for my undergrad and since then have come back once every two years or so. Everytime I come back, I'm struck by just how fast the city is changing. It feels like I'm visiting a different city every time. The infrastructure, the stores, the fashion is much more different now than it was a decade ago; everything is more "western" and "hip" now. But, there are still many things that have stayed the same, and I suspect will continue to stay the same for generations. Here's a quick recap of things that haven't changed since I moved back - this is how every visit of mine has been for the last ten years!

So yesterday I woke up super early, because by 8am, the doorbell had rung at least five times, and the phone at least three. The hardest was when no one would answer the home phone because everyone was busy talking on their own cell phones - then it would keep ringing incessantly! Finally I just gave up and stormed out of my room and foolishly thought that trying to fall asleep in my parents' bedroom, since they were already up, would help with the situation. But oh how wrong was I! It just got worse in their room, because the sound of the doorbell is the loudest in there! Eventually, I had to give in to the powers of the universe and just wake up. I brushed my teeth and walked into the dining area, where my mom promptly started shoving food in front of my face. For a second I thought I was still dreaming, but as soon as I realized that this, in fact, would be my new reality for the next couple of weeks, I was in love. Before 10am, I had eaten a sandwich, some fruit, juice, and cookies. At around noon, I went to visit my grandma and granddad, who live down the road from us.

As soon as I got to theirs, the first thing everyone did was yell at me for "losing too much weight". I'm convinced that this weight loss thing is a figment of their imagination - I mean we've all seen how I eat. It would be physically and metamorphically impossible for me to have lost weight with all that food consumption! Sidebar: One thing you need to know about Indian families - they consider it their right and responsibility to comment on your weight and your looks. It's like they can't go to bed at night without sharing their observations on your appearance, and any sarcastic comments about it will just bounce off them. And this isn't just your immediate family - your friends, neighbors, their friends, their neighbors, everyone has this unstoppable and compulsive urge to tell you how they think you look. My freshmen year I gained the freshmen 30, and as a result I came back as an inflatable device. Everyone, and by everyone I mean everyone that I met - my neighbors, friends, family, extended family - felt compelled to point out to me that I had turned into a flotation device. I tried sarcasm and told them, "oh really? I had no idea that I got fat - that's not what MY mirror told me!" But this just bounced off them and they took that seriously! So after a while I just gave up and would nod my head anytime we talked about my fatness :-P

Anyway, when I got to grandma's, due to her neurosis that made her think I was too skinny, I was promptly fed Indian sweets and snacks. It was good to see her and my granddad (my cousin and my aunt were also home), but both GM and GD aren't feeling too good, so I hope they get better! Another sidebar: Something else you need to know about living in India - your life here revolves around that of the maid's. Maids are very hard to come by, so once you actually find one, you do your best to make the world a happy place for her. You feed her, care for her, make sure she's satisfied, and of course, pay her. You wouldn't dare criticize her, even if she does a sucky job, for fear of abandonment.

We have two people who we employ: A guy called Rakesh who sweeps and mops all the floors in the house, dusts, and cleans the bathrooms. However, the "main" maid, Pinky, is far too important for such menial tasks. She does do the dishes, but most importantly, she hangs the washing, folds and puts it away, chops all the veggies, runs errands for my mom, and puts everything away to its rightful place in the house. I have lost track of how many times in the past I had called my mom to chat, only to have her tell me that she couldn't talk to me because "Pinky was here." My mom would turn into a walking zombie without her, I'm sure of it. The reason I tell you all this is because when I was at my grandma's place, I received a frantic call from my mom demanding that my brother and I head back aSAP, because, "PINKY IS HERE TO DO THE DISHES!" We hadn't had our lunch yet, so we had to rush back to eat, just so we could give those dishes to rinse to Pinky as well. So, we ate as fast as we could for dear old Pinky.

We then hired a rickshaw, and took it to go meet up with my dad close to his office. I hate taking rickshaw's anywhere, they are loud, and they don't have doors so all the dust gets in your face, but most importantly, riding in them messes up my hair because of the dust and the wind. They are really easy to come by; however, so it's much easier to hire one of those than wait around for a cab, especially in the part of the city that we live in. We met up with my dad, who drove us to this new mall that opened up downtown, and we shopped around for a couple of hours, before heading out to dinner. The clothes and the fashion for non-work clothes that you get here is pretty similar to what I would get in the US; in fact, many of the clothes that I end up buying in the US are actually made in India. I bought a cute ruffled tier skirt, a black and white printed sheath dress, and a long top that can masquerade as a dress if I wanted it to. If you're a guy reading this, then I know the outfits description means nothing to you, so just nod and pretend that you understand what I mean :-P

Today is Diwali, which is our "Christmas," so the plan is to go to a really nice place for dinner with the extended family. I hope to be back sometime next week to fill you in on more details about the trip, and also to share with you the number of lunches and dinners I've had. The tally so far: 6 lunches and 4 dinners in 3 days. Let's see if we can top this next week!

Tell me what you want to hear

I am OBSESSED with this song right now - I can't stop playing it over and over and over again:



Today I went to Julie and Carla's for yet another gluttonic event. If gluttonic is not an adjective, well, it should be one. As I have done in the past, this time I didn't eat anything all day before going over to their place, and as usual, it was SO worth it. About 10-12 women feasted on veggie enchiladas, picco de gallo, avocado-mango salad, some pork thing, beans and nice, cinnamon rolls, and copious amounts of other drinks. At one point, I had to be in the horizontal position for a good fifteen minutes, in order to facilitate breathing, which was restricted because of all the eating.

Once I was able to move into a vertical position again, I rejoined the conversation, which, to my delight, revolved around food. After being completely satiated, we proceeded to play Monopoly, where certain people, who shall not be named, did end up creating monopolies and taking away all the money from the little guys. But not me! I decided to fight against the establishment, and even tried to start a revolution! But I guess everyone else wanted to build houses and hotels and spaceships, so my partner Carla and I had no choice but to join the capitalistic society and build some houses of our own. But after a while, I cried out and said, "Enough! Is this the kind of world that we want to bring our children into, where all people want is MORE? Let's all go back to a simpler time, when we helped each other out, and cared for each other. Let's end this insanity, once an for all, and let people pass by our houses and hotels without having to pay rent." Okay fine, I may have made a couple of bad real estate calls, which may have led to Carla and me getting kicked out of the game. But I'm sure had I survived another round, I would have given the exact speech that I just quoted.

I got over my loss against capitalism by eating cinnamon rolls and having Irish coffee. How I managed to even walk out of their place and get back home, I don't know, but I'm glad I did, because I am currently in a food coma. In fact, I think even typing anything more is difficult, if not impossible, so I'm just going to put an end to this and go to bed. Hope you had a good, food filled weekend!

Ramblings of a hungry mind

I accidentally ended up eating two dinners, and as a result, I had to stay in the horizontal position for a good hour. But as soon as I got vertical, hunger for dessert beaconed, and I ended up having a big piece of leftover Swiss roll for dessert. Result: I am now back in the horizontal position.

Today's post was supposed to be about our visit to Montreux, but I realized that I hadn't shared an STIDT in a while, so I figured it was time for one. Today, while sitting by my desk at work, in a span of 3 seconds, I dropped my ID, and when I bent to pick it up, my glasses fell off my face, and when I bent down to pick them, up my handbag fell on top of me. Yes, all this happened sequentially and yet almost simultaneously. But, as usual, none of this was my fault. The culprit, in this case, was the stupendously delicious chocolate muffin that I had earlier in the afternoon. Gooey and chocolaty on the inside, soft and welcoming on the outside, it was a forkful of perfection. This decadent, sinful delight has changed me forever. I am a born-again optimist. I am now convinced that nothing can be as bad as it seems, as long as you have a muffin in your life.

I would have taken a picture, but before I could even take in my first deep breath, muffin was demolished. Nothing was left. I was literally scraping the bottom of the paper to get every tiny little piece that I could. But it was worth it. I'm pretty sure that last bit of muffin was what gave me the epiphany that changed my life forever. Now if I could only get my hands on another one of those tomorrow, I will be able to achieve Nirvana. Moksha. Whatever you want to call it. I'm just one chocolate stuffed chocolate muffin away from it. Here's hoping that the powers that be that control the muffin supply are paying attention to this!

What do I miss about New York?

I've been here for close to six months now, which seems incredibly long, and yet the time here went by unbelievably quickly. In honor of this realization, I thought I'd compile a list of the Top Five things that I miss about New York:

- FALAFEL. I can't explain how much. Indian Food. Thai Food. Food. FOOD FOOD FOOD.

- Shopping. The next time I'm in New York, I'm going to hug Macys, make out with Ann Taylor, and have a wild fling with Banana Republic.

- Lifelong friends - and the convenience of just picking up the phone and yapping with them for hours, or making an emergency Viniero's strawberry cake run at 2am.

- Grocery stores being open on Sundays - I never thought I'd miss Whole Foods as much as I do!

- The energy of a big city - the hustle and bustle, and the rudeness, and the jaywalking.


The list of Top FIVE things that I don't miss will be up tomorrow! I know at least half the things in the above list are food related, but honestly, would you really expect anything different? Can anyone else who's an expat relate to any of the above? Or is it just me?

I love Paris - Part Deux

(...continued from below) The Hummus and fatayer helped me attain inner peace. We walked around aimlessly for miles, and found ourselves at Palais Royale, where a group of street musicians were playing wonderful symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart.

We strolled toward The Louvre, a majestic piece of modern architecture nestled in a histortic neighborhood. I'm more of an architecture person than an art one, and I had already been to Louvre on my last trip to Paris, so we just decided to be tourists and took some pictures of the museum and its surroundings:





We crossed the Seine and walked on Pont Du Carrousel, a wonderful bridge overlooking both left and right bank:



From here on out, I went a little bit insane. Allow me to explain: for the longest time, I've coveted this Burberry handbag. I love the concept of being creative with plaid and am impressed with the number of ways in which they can make it hip. Not to mention, Hermoine asked me to buy Burberry. And we all know that if Hermoine says it's good, then it must be true. So, while we were crossing the bridge, I had an epiphany. I deduced that with the low Dollar-Euro exchange rate, the bag wouldn't be all that expensive.

But we had a situation: I didn't know where the Burberry store was located. So I whipped out my ancient smartphone and looked up the address of the store on the left bank. We found an address on Google, and since google never lies, we trusted it enough to make our way to St. Germaine, where I was assured the store stood. Alas, Google had joined forces with Steve Jobs and conspired against me! For we were at St. Germaine, where we found Chanel, MaxMara, and other stores, but no Hermoine's Burberry. Desolate, I made my way back to the right bank. It was just as well, because I discovered something truly startling in my hunt: Hermoine was no longer the face of Burberry! If they abandon Hermoine, then I abandon them! What I eventually ended up buying in place of the Burberry bag is too traumatic and shocking to be put in writing. Let's just leave it at that.

At night, we had dinner at the Loving Hut, a wonderful Asian vegetarian restaurant, not far from the Bastille. The food was delish, and neither the brother nor I uttered a single word and were focused on the eating the entire time.

We walked to Bastille after dinner, and the monument, in the shadow of the moon, made for a pretty sight:



This is where I explain to you what stood between me and creme brulee: it was my pants. I committed a grave fashion faux pas, you see - I only packed two day dresses. So I was forced to wear pants in the evening and was thus physically unable to indulge in any creme brulee, due to lack of flexibility to stuff anything else in my stomach. Nevertheless, we marched on and continued strolling along Bercy, soaking in wonderful moonlit castles:



and caught sight of the Eiffel Tower towering as a beacon of light and making the city dance in its lights:




You could close your eyes and almost hear the sounds of carriages riding along the river and of street stalls wrapping up for the day, as they would have hundreds of years ago. The night was perfect. Sure, there was a situation where I thought one of the towers of a castle was Eiffel Tower, which earned me a shocked look from my brother, but that's a rookie mistake, right?

The next day, we went back to Sacre Coeur, a beautiful church atop a hill:



And made our way back to Place de la Concorde. We chilled at Jardin des Tuileries where we grabbed a quick lunch, took a nap, and then do the one thing that I had still not done in Paris - have creme brulee. We walked along Rue Rivoli, and I'm proud to let you know that success was met:



This concludes an exhaustive recap of Paris. This post is no shorter than the previous one, in fact, it's even longer, if possible. So if you're reading this and are still awake, I'll just say that if you ever get a chance, do visit Paris, at least once in your lifetime. And let me know if you also feel its magic the way I do. It will make you feel fulfilled and yet will leave you wanting for more. It will transport you to a different world, all the while allowing you to enjoy the convenience of this one. Paris, je t'aime!

I love Paris

To quote the great Cole Porter:

Every time I look down on this timeless town
whether blue or gray be her skies.
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears,
more and more do I realize:

I love Paris in the springtime.
I love Paris in the fall.
I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles,
I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles.

I love Paris every moment,
every moment of the year

There's just something about this city that resonates with me. It's hard to explain what, or justify the why. I look forward to walking around and assaulting the locals with my pathetic French, and am still in awe every time I walk on Voie Georges Pompidou or am walking past The Louvre. The buildings and churches and castles never change, but each time I walk past them, I discover something new. Whether it's a missed sculpture, or a particularly unique coffee shop, Paris awakens the dormant explorer in me, and makes me feel like a little kid in a candy store. I can walk around for miles and miles without a care in the world, and even though my feet cry for respite, my mind and heart yearn for more. It's always had a special place in my heart, and if this trip was any indication, it will continue to do so for some time to come.

On my way to Paris, I had decided to blog about this the "right way." I was going to make a note of names and places of all the restaurants where I had a meal, and list all the cafes and do some actual critiquing. The plan was foolproof, I had my ever handy IPod Touch and was making a note of everything both days. But my lifelong aversion to Steve Jobs and everything Apple reared it's ugly head yet again. On my way back form Paris, I realized that my entire notepad had been wiped out, as had all my music. I had a mini breakdown in the train. It was not pretty. There was no knight in shining armor to rescue me either. So details of the Paris trip will not be like I imagined it to be and I'm going to have to wing it. Please send a letter of complaint to Steve Jobs for me, will ya?

I took train out from Zurich to Paris on Friday evening. It was a five hour train ride, with stunning views of rolling green hills and pretty farms along the way. The train pulled into Gare Du Nord at around 9:30 in the evening, and my hunger levels had reached insurmountable heights. The brother met up with me at the station and we walked to the hotel, which was about a five minute walk from the station. My brother tried to make conversation with me, but all I could think and talk about was food. Since the brother has seen the monster that I turn into when denied food, we quickly dropped my bag off at the hotel and made our way to the nearest falafel joint. It was only after devouring an entire falafel and some halloumi and some fatayer did I feel human again. I was exhausted from a busy week at work, so we decided to call it an early night and made our way back to the hotel.

Next morning we woke up reasonably early, and made our way to a pretty decent Crepe place. I've always believed in the saying, "Why have one crepe when you can have two?" and I proceeded to do just that:



Some people double fist on alcohol; I double fist on crepes. That's how I roll. After crepes, we walked around on Rue Lafayette, home to many a stores and smaller cafes. We stopped at a cafe for some coffee and made our way to Place de la Concorde. This is one of the biggest squares in Paris, with sweeping views of The Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Louvre. The weather was perfect, with not a cloud in the sky, and we took at least a dozen pictures around the fountains and of the entire square:



From there, we walked on Champs-Elysees and made our way to Arc de Triomphe - a monument about the Napoleon wars.



The top of the arch lists names of all the soldiers who fought for Napoleon, while the inside lists the names of all the cities and towns Napoleon conquered.



I know all this because of the hired tour guide a.k.a my brother. He was willing to share his fountain of knowledge in exchange for good cafes and crepes. Everyone in my family will work for food. We're cheap that way.

Interesting fact: Did you know that Napoleon was only 5'2? Who says short people can't conquer the world? This gives me hope of one day turning my dreams of world dominion into reality.

The inner child in me that needs to be fed every two hours started to scream for food again, and we began our hunt to find a good place for lunch. Came across a wonderful Mediterranean place, whose name I'd give you, were it not for Steve Jobs. Instead, all I can offer you is a picture of what we ate:



This post is turning into an encyclopedia, so I'm going to continue the rest in a Part II of this post.

Off to Paris for the weekend...

...but before I go, here's a rundown of all the things I did in London last weekend:

Reunited with my sweetheart:



Yes, this is nothing but a good oldfashioned mall. With escalators and more than five stores and food stalls and everything. Oh, how I have missed thee! I'm not much of a shopper, but whenever things were down, I'd always find solace int eh mall. Often, I wouldn't even buy anything, but just watching teens line up outside Hollister and continuing my quest to find Petite clothes that fit me always made me feel that everything will be alright in the world. Alas, Switzerland may have Alps and cows and beauty, but it doesn't have malls! So it was time for much needed retail therapy. I went to the Westfield mall in West London and basically walked around for three hours. I exited the mall and made my way to:

Leicester Square:



It's a really nice square, very close to Covent Garden, and a Mecca for food, movie, and theater buffs like me. I had drinks with a friend and we went for dinner to the most amazingly fantabulous Indian Restaurant called Masala Zone. In the past, I have often had heated discussions on the lack of authenticity in the Indian food in London, but after having dinner here, I take it all back. The food was authentic Indian food, more from the western part of India. All of us had a Thali, which looked like this:



I loved this restaurant chain so much that I went to each one of their locations over the weekend. Everyday, I had dinner at a different location. I did takeout from their Soho location Saturday night, and after placing my order, the guy at the counter asked me if this order was for two people or three, so he could provide that many plates and utensils. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was all for just one person, so I said it was for two people. Yes, I realize normal people don't do these things. But if there's anything you know about me by now, then it is the fact that I'm not quite normal.

Flower Market and more food:

On Sunday, my friend T, with whom I was staying, met up with another friend D, and all of us went to the Columbia Flower Market, which is very close to where T lives. I love flowers, so I just walked around taking in the smells and the scents, and of course, some pictures:





We then briefly stopped by at a kids' birthday party, but since I'm secretly afraid of kids, I just went there for some cake, and D and I left as soon as I had consumed a piece. We walked around Oxford Street, Regent Street, and Piccadilly Circus. It just felt so good to be in a big city, surrounded by rude people, where you weren't the only person in the entire country who was jay walking.

D and I had dinner at Masala Zone one last time, and we met up with T and walked from Covent Garden to London Bridge, just talking about food and life and the veritable lack of hot men on this planet. It was a great trip; I caught up with many of my friends whom I hadn't seen in a while, shopped, ate, ate, ate. And now I'm off to Paris to eat some more! Crepes, here I come :)

It's a Hard Life

This week was supposed to be all about London and what I did there and what I ate. I figured the Land Of the Queen deserved more than one post. But things happened, as things tend to, that lead me to alter my agenda a little bit. For today is the day that I introduced a whole new set of people to the horrors of my gluttony. My friend Julie had organized a dinner for, get this, 22, that's right, TWENTY-TWO women, at my favorite(and perhaps, the only) Ethiopian restaurant in Zurich. As I am an idiot wrapped in a moron, I got lost on my way to the restaurant, even though I have been there numerous times now. Julie and Carla were standing out on the street trying to spot me. This is why I wore a bright red jacket today; I knew something like this would happen that would require me to be spotted from space. We finally united and I made my merry way into the restaurant.

The fellow vegetarians in attendance united and formed our own front. We were a varied bunch, from U.S., Canada, Germany, and Sweden. It was a great group of people and good conversation was had, with much of it centering around food, to my delight. You all remember what happened the last time I went to this restaurant. Well, this time, I decided to take it up a notch. So we got two servings, yes, two servings, of this:



When I finally stopped eating, as usual, I couldn't breath due to the food coma. I almost wanted to lie down on the couch and find the will to move again. Julie did an absolutely wonderful job organizing everything and the company was exceptional. I also caught up a bit with Jenny, whom I met on my disastrous bike trip back when I first moved here. After she was done playing hostess, I had her look at my knee, which was bothering me. She moonlights as a knee expert, so I'd highly recommend that you solicit her services when required. She did some complicated looking things with my knee and concluded that I may have some tendon inflammation in my right knee.

I don't really know what could be the cause of this knee inflammation - the only thing I can conclude is that maybe leaping across the table to get the last bite chocolate before someone else ate it may not have helped the situation. I've been asked to lie down, wrap an icepack around my knee, and perch it at an angle such that it's above my heart. So here I am, in a comically awkward position, with my laptop in my lap (but not really), looking like I'm doing more acrobats than those at a circus. Thank you, I'll be here all week.

Gatwick Airport - Stuff that nightmares are made of

Whenever a little kid refuses to eat his veggies, his mom probably tells him, "Have your veggies, or you will be forced to fly into Gatwick airport the next time you go to London". I had heard stories about this, but after flying into Gatwick this time around, I am convinced of their authenticity. By the time I landed in Gatwick on Thursday night, hunger had started to hum. As a result, I was already a bit disoriented. And we all know what kinds of things happen when I'm hungry. On top of all this, many of the exits from the Gatwick terminal to the Shuttle were closed, and the Detour signs were unclear, to say the least. I ended up going through Baggage claim and customs at least twice. And I didn't even check-in any bags! I had that vacant look that people get in their eyes when they go to watch The Predator and find out that Adrian Brody only took his shirt off once. You begin to question your very existence. Fortunately, before the questioning got too intense, I found my way to the shuttle and then to the train station to take the Express train to my friend's place in East London.

Aforementioned hunger made me buy a Same Day return Ticket from Gatwick to London bridge. Yes, Same day. Apparently my hungry mind decided that riding the Gatwick express back and forth would be an ideal way to resolve my hunger issues. At the train station, I saw something marvelous: I saw Subway. Yes, the fast-food chain. It has been exactly 4.5 months since I last saw one of these. I just stood outside in adoration of the store for a good five minutes. Who knew I'd get so sentimental over limp lettuce and canned olives? I wanted to grab a sandwich before I boarded the train, but the display kept blinking at me and informed me that the arrival of the train was imminent. I rushed to the platform, only to find another blinking display - this one announcing that the train was delayed by 20 minutes. I wanted to rail against the gods and ask, "Why, god, why?" Alternatively, I could also have run back to the Subway stand and bought my sub, but the thought of lugging my carry-on up and down non-escalated stairs didn't sound too appealing at the time.

By the time I made it to London Bridge, I was blinded by hunger. Literally blinded for two seconds, but then I realized it's because I had closed my eyes. I grabbed a cab and made my way to my friend's place. I made the cab driver drop me a block away from their home because I spotted an Indian restaurant and wanted to grab some take-out before I went over to their place. Most people bring gifts to the people they are visiting. But I don't follow any such norms. Me, I took take-out. For myself. Before I went to their place. My friend T was out of town that night but her husband S let me in. Instead of making conversation and catching up with him, the first words out of my mouth were, "Hi S! So good to see you!! I'm very hungry and desperately need to eat right away!" I then proceeded to make him watch me wolf down some Naan and curry. In between the chomping I'd come up for some air and mumble something at him in an attempt to make conversation, but such was my hunger that my eyes didn't even leave my dinner plate until everything was swept clean. Never let it be said that I don't give my hundred percent to anything that I do.

S, who was probably in shock and awe, had plans to leave early the next morning and went to get some sleep. Poor bloke probably had nightmares about a crazy houseguest who ate all their food. Satiated, I switched the TV on, and found English channels! For these three days, I wouldn't have to watch Castle in German, or Monk in Italian, or CSI in French - all the shows and channels were in English. I cried a few tears of joy and watched some NCIS before I went off to bed. Tomorrow, I introduce you to my lovah...

"I never thought I was smart enough to get depressed, but here I am."

Is anyone else watching True Blood this season? If you are, then the title of this post will make complete sense to you. If you're not, then I just want to let you know that I am not depressed. Sad about living in a currently ice-creamless apartment, but definitely not depressed.True Blood keeps blowing me away on a regular basis. I laugh, cringe, swoon, salivate, and get grossed out all at the same time. Can't wait for next week's episode!

This weekend was amazing, food-wise (going forward, just remember, if something is amazing, it's most likely due to a food related activity). Fellow True Bloodies (Blooders?) Julie and Carla hosted a housewarming party at their place this weekend. Since I've sampled their cooking before, I most certainly didn't want to be in a situation where I'd show up and all the food was gone, so I came up with a strategy: I decided to show up at their place well in advance, under the pretext of "helping them out." And boy am I glad I did that. There were three different kinds of empanadas, amazing chili cheese enchiladas, corn salsa, pico de gallo, roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, chocolate chip cookies, an assortment of meat dishes, and sangria. This is what the spread looked like, and the reason why I had to employ my strategy of showing up early:



Here's the roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, veggies, and pico de gallo:



The rest of the evening was also a lot of fun. I'd love to give you details about the guests and share some interesting anecdotes, but I was basically in a food coma approximately sixty minutes after I got to their place. In fact, the coma got so bad at one point that I physically couldn't stand and had to lie down on their couch. Yes, I have to lie down on couches now because I can't control my eating.

I reluctantly made my way back way too early, which, in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do, for the eating would not have stopped any other way. As it was, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking how full I was. But it was worth it. My only regret: I forgot to take leftovers back with me. I cried the entire train ride back. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I really did. Little children ran away in fear. Oh well, it was worth it. Now if only I can get myself to stop dreaming about the cookies...

I've Got to See You Again

Today was traumatizing, food-wise. Actually, that's not really true. I had pasta for lunch, so there was some measure of emotional satisfaction until mid-afternoon. As today is Wednesday, I went to the Wednesday Market after a long, long time. There is a British Cheese stall there, which is a local hang out of sorts for expats. I made plans with a couple of friends to meet up, have some cheese, laugh, and have some more cheese.

On my way there, I began to remember all the different food stalls that are put up at the market, and I was hit with a sudden and unsuppressed craving for Falafel. I was almost delusional in my need for it, and the first thing I did after I quickly said hi to my friend was to line up for the Falafel. Imagine my shock and horror when I discovered that the Lebanese stall had no falafel this week! "No Falafel", I shrieked. "How is this even possible? What kind of a country is this? How does the government even allow such things to happen? Surely this must be illegal!" I thought. Yes, I think in exclamations. It has been known to happen when food is involved. Desperate, I asked the other expats if they were aware of any other stall at the Market that sold Falafel. Alas, the answer came back negative. I was this close to tears. I was suddenly questioning everything. If I can't get my Falafel, then what's the point in living, I ask you? My friend Julie could see tears well up in my eyes and immediately tried to distract me with some Greek food. Before I even knew what hit me, I found myself working my way through a Spinach pie.

The momentary distraction did a good enough job of stopping the tears, but as soon as the pie was consumed, my sense of loss at the lack of Falafel returned. Desolate, I decided to make my way back home. On the way out, I managed to buy some cheese from the British cheese stall and also picked up a Samosa from an Indian stall. But nothing filled the gap that Falafel had left - both in my heart and in my belly. Ever since I made it back to the apartment and demolished the samosa, I've been listening to Norah Jones' I've Got To See You Again - a song that truly captures my current state of mind:

Can't breathe

I had a couple of fellow food lovers over for an Indian dinner tonight, and now I'm having trouble breathing, because of all the eating. Nothing, not even my super loose sweatpants, prepared me for my latest food coma. My cooking wasn't a total disaster (except for the Strawberry Sorbet that ended up becoming a strawberry slushie), and we had Eric and Neal to give us company for remainder of the evening. I wanted to blog about quite a few amusing things that have happened recently, but I am not kidding when I say that I cannot physically get myself off the couch because of the naan, dal, rice, Alu Gobi, avacado and cucumber raita, strawberry slushie thing, and backup dessert of chocolate cake that I inhaled. One day, I will regain my ability to move. But until such a day arrives, I'm going to try and find what I can about my latest future husband...

Say cheese!

I have spent the last four hours looking at endless instruction videos on how to do the perfect french braid, and have been practicing the same all evening. What, you ask, possessed me to do such a thing? It's the same question psychiatrists are also asking, and I'll tell them the same thing I'm telling you: It was either that, or do some cleaning around in the apartment. Tell me, what would you have done?

Today was a great day, foodwise. I was invited to an English cheese and beer event in Rapperswil, which is a small city about 35km from Zurich. The idea was to have a nice cheese platter for lunch and interact with other expats living in Zurich. My friend Julie was volunteering as a waitress at the event, and I informed her to expect me to show up in high heels, a barely there outfit, wearing giant sunglasses, and a bitchy attitude. I told her this would be the only time I could be really rude to the wait staff and throw a tantrum and be really mean, and I was going to milk it to the fullest. My friend Carla and I rode the bike there - all 35km of it. I don't remember much of the bike ride as 34 of those 35km were spent on trying to breathe and stay alive. In the moments that I did manage to breathe, I was astounded by the sheer beauty of the region. To our left were vineyards, and to our right was the lake, and in the background were meadows and hills, with houses sprinkled in between. In that moment I felt a sense of peace that one seldom feels. But then breathing issues ensued, so the moment of peace was replaced with moments of trying to survive.

We finally made it to Rapperswil and spent the next few minutes making the agonizing decision on what kinds of cheese we wanted for our platter. We settled for a cheddar and various other forms of blue cheese, paired with coleslaw, relish, pickles, chutney, and bread. I don't drink beer, which is good, because it allowed me to dedicate my entire self to the cheese. And the cheese was divine. Especially the "Stinking Bishop". My stomach was full, but that information never reached my brain, so I ended up sharing a brownie with Carla after the cheesefest. Waitress Julie was not at all threatened by my mean girl act, not even when I told her, in my valley girl accent, to "go get her manager". I was very disappointed. But seeing as she was so busy and doing a great job taking orders and serving lunch, I decided to give her a break. But only this one time. The next time my meal takes more than 3.4 seconds to arrive, I'm going straight to the manager!

The reality of what lay ahead of us finally struck me: We had to make the 35km bike ride BACK. After the food fest. Trauma ensued. I think I may have internally cried, but externally I maintained a cool facade. Carla and I decided to be adventurous and try and take a different route back home. We weren't too successful, and the route back was hilly. And you know me, I don't believe in hills. The moment I would come across a tiniest incline, I'd get off my bike and walk it until we were off the incline. Meanwhile, superwoman Carla just marched along, as if this was an everyday occurrence for her. I'm surprised she didn't physically lift me and my bike and throw us both in the vineyards for slowing her down. The view, yet again, was stunning, even more so because of the said hills that we were on. I'd love to share some pictures, but I forgot to take my camera along, so you'll just have to use your imagination for this one.

The bike ride back was a lot harder due to exhaustion from the ride into Rapperswil, and from eating enough food over lunch to feed an entire nation. God must have heard my silent pleas for help, for over halfway into the ride back to Zurich, it started to pour. I think God was also crying at my pathetic attempt to ride a bike. When it didn't look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon, we rode in it to find a train station and took the train the rest of the way back. I barely made it back to the apartment before I collapsed on the couch. The apartment was, and is, in a state of disarray, and I would have cleaned up, had Waitress Julie's french braid not gotten me obsessed with looking up french braids, and we all know how that ended...

Now I'm off to meet a few people for drinks to discuss if I'll ever be able to make it out of bed tomorrow - because of the late night last night, and the bike ride this afternoon, and the late night tonight! I think food is the only thing that has the power to get me out of bed tomorrow. Good food. Lots of good food. Bye.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Last weekend was Zurifascht, a two and a half day long festival celebrating Zurich that occurs once every three years. Was ist das, you ask? I tried to find the historical significance of the festival, but everything I found online was in German, so I’m just going to be a therapist and tell you, “The festival is whatever you want it to be.” Basically, it’s an opportunity for people to eat and drink for 72 hours. The entire city area around the lake and and around Limmat, one of the rivers in city center, is shut down, and there are hundreds of food and drink stalls and dance clubs on the street. Among other things, the festival also boasts of a gravity defying air show with amazing air stunts done by the navy and choppers. Spectacular fireworks indicate the beginning of the party at night, which doesn’t end until the sun comes up. People spend the weekend walking around and checking out different stalls for food and usually hit at least one “road” bar on their trek. It is estimated that around 2million people are out on the street during the festival. Here are some images to give a better idea of what the festival is all about:



Here's everyone and their uncles out on the street basically all night long:





This was my first ZuriFest and I was determined to make the most of it. My OCD required that I research everything and plan the most fastidious and effective route, but everyone advised me not to “plan” anything and go with the flow. So 12 of us decided to meet on Friday evening and then, you know, flow. The evening started with great promise – we saw a flying dog:



And Ghana looked like they were poised to win the game. However, things started to get crazy once 2 million people made their way to a 1 mile radius area. We started to lose people. At first, it was a person here, a person there. Before we knew it, we were down to a group of 5. Unrelenting, we marched on. Our quest to find the perfect spot to watch the fireworks brought us to the lake shore. The view was indeed great, and the fireworks, synchronized to classical music, were quite spectacular. I would love to show you pictures but I was too lazy to take any good ones, so you'll just have to believe me when I say that the fireworks were fab.

But millions of people in such a small area led to cellphones being jammed and people unable to contact other people. Pretty soon, we lost the remaining people and were down to myself and just another friend. I felt I was on the battlefield and had lost all my soldiers in the fight to survive. Eventually, my one other friend and I were reunited with a few others that we lost earlier in the evening, but by that time, the trauma of losing the remaining soldiers, I mean friends, coupled with my cell phone having no battery, was just too much for me, so I decided to call it a night.

Day two of the festival was all about THE Falafal. In my hunt for my fellow compatriots, the sight of various people eating falafel had not escaped unnoticed. Saturday morning I decided to walk around in the afternoon and try to find my falafel. I had no idea where the falafel eaters had found it the night before, so I painstakingly walked through every single lane and by-lane until success was finally mine. Three hours and a few blisters later, I was united with falafel. Never let it be said that I wouldn’t go to great lengths for things that I believe in.

By Saturday night, I was older and wiser, and having learned from my past mistakes, decided to attend the festival with a much smaller group. And in the process, learned another invaluable life lesson: In a crowd of 2 million, a group larger than 2 people is…large. Needless to say, by the end of the inght, I had again managed to lose everyone, including my visitors from NY. I tried looking for them, but who knew it would be very difficult to find two people in a mob of two million?

Eventually, I gave up and hoped that they reached my place safely. I repeated the post-separation process from the night before, and ran into a few people I knew, but was so exhausted as to be unable to even breathe without my feet crying in pain from all the standing, and had to go back to the apartment and crash.

I had plans for Sunday that included walking around and covering one area that I hadn't yet checked out, going swimming in the lake, and by swimming I mean splashing around on the shore, and of course eating. I couldn't even make it out of the couch and to the balcony. Somehow, I found the inner will to actually move and hunt for food at around dinner time, and left with my visitors to check out festival one last time. I finally realized why this event occurs only once every three years - I don't think I can handle such insanity on a yearly basis!

Keeping out of Mischief now

In case you can't tell, I'm going through a "Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald" phase right now. I quote their songs in casual conversation and am constantly humming them in the office. I need therapy.

Anyway, I've decided to sit down and get a few posts out of the way tonight. I was going to begin with ZuriFest, but I had an awesome dinner this evening, so we'll lead as always with food. I had been craving veggie burger for a while now. What is so special about this "veggie burger" you ask? Well the VBs here almost taste like "indian" burgers in that they are made out of potatoes and peas and have a distinct curry and chutney flavor to it. I've never had these burgers outside of India, so you can understand my obsession on having one everyday here. The burger, coupled with awesome homemade sauces and flavored mayo, makes life worth living.

I had one a few weeks ago, but cravings began in earnest at Zurifest, where I had it at least a couple of times, and reached a frenzy by this morning. Every morning I'd wake up thinking of it and go to bed at night with dreams of having one for dinner. This afternoon, a debate raged within me on whether to go on my veggie burger hunt or to be lazy, and laziness won, but only by the thinnest of margins.

I conned a friend into joining me on my burger hunt by luring him with promises of watching the Germany-Uruguay game. We went to Bar One at Escher-Wyss-Platz, where I was first introduced to the burger. I excitedly waited for it and when I had the first bite, I achieved a state of bliss like no other. The next thirty minutes, over which I devoured the burger, were the best minutes of the entire day.

No sooner had I finished dinner did it start to rain like a maniac, which was a welcome respite from the heat. I'm just glad that the downpour occurred after above mentioned burger annihilation, otherwise the evening would have ended on quite a catastrophic note. I've been in a food coma for the last three hours, and it shows no signs of abating. Now if only I can get my hands on some ice cream, my purpose in life shall have been achieved!

Why can't I be normal?

This question keeps me up at night. I have pondered over it for years now, and can come up with few answers that can explain my lack of normalcy. The only reasonable explanation is that something happens to me when I'm in any situation that has anything to do with food, and that causes me to behave in ways that psychologists wouldn't really classify as "normal". But I have no answer to the root cause of this issue. Is it a forgotten childhood trauma? A genetic disorder? A chemical imbalance? I have no answer and I don't think even doctors would. Why do I bring this up today, you ask? Well, here's what happened this morning:

I had met one half of a seemingly wonderful couple on my flight to Spain a couple of weekends ago, and made plans to meet the two of them for brunch this afternoon. I woke up early enough to procrastinate about going to the gym, and ended up having two cookies to get over the guilt of said procrastination. I even got ready on time and ensured that my handbag matched my dress and shoes. But as every woman knows, changing handbags is a tricky business. It's extremely difficult to remember to transfer your ipod, work ID, loose change, makeup, book, and various other items to the new handbag. Something always is forgotten in the old handbag, and your life ceases to hold any meaning until the missing item has been safely transferred over.

Well, such a "life ceasing to hold any meaning" event happened with me this afternoon. I was going to a vegetarian buffet place for brunch, so thoughts of muesli and pudding and lentils and curry had infiltrated my head to a point where I couldn't even think straight. Everywhere I looked around, I saw curry and rice. This is why when I swapped bags, I thought the newer bag felt lighter than the older one, but chalked that up to the weight of the bag itself, so as not to let anything get in the way of my curry cravings. Well, imagine my embarrassment when it came time to pay and I realized that I had forgotten my...wallet! Yes, the light weight of my new handbag was due a missing wallet that was comfortably resting in my old handbag.

To say that I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole would be an understatement. To say that I wanted to be on Lost and go back in time would be more accurate. I had to shamefully ask my wonderful brunchmates to bail me out. And you know me, when I eat, I EAT. And this was buffet, where you stuff your plate with whatever you want and then weigh it at the counter. I repeat, it was a BUFFET. So my plate was stuffed. And I had to ask someone who I knew for approximately 3.5 minutes to pay for it. All because food was on my mind all morning and I had lost the ability to use my brain for any seemingly normal activities. My mates were kind enough to bail me out, but then I saw dessert. And I longingly kept staring at it. They asked me if I was up for coffee and some dessert. Mindful of the fact that I was literally penniless, I started to refuse. But my insincerity must have shown on my face, because they insisted that I join them for coffee and dessert and paid for that too. Being the fat@ass that I am, I had both. This a new low, even for me. Something must be done. I cannot continue to be an idiot wrapped in a moron for the rest of my life. Dessert was fabulous though. As was the cappuccino. I need help. Help!