Budapest

Currently, I'm in the middle of transforming a bomb-scene like apartment into something a lot more habitable. Progress has been slow, but good. Most of the bedroom furniture has been assembled, and you can actually see the floor in the living room now. I no longer have to walk on boxes to get to other boxes. My hope is to have everything finally put away within the next two weeks. But we'll see.

In the meantime, here are some pictures of Budapest, where I went with a friend for my birthday weekend. A few facts about Budapest and Hungary that not many people know: Budapest is a combination of two cities, Buda and Pest. Hungarian wine, especially their whites, are delicious and unlike most whites that I have tasted. It's an absolutely beautiful city, rich in history and culture. Hungarian food is mainly meat based, but us vegetarians can always find ways to survive. Hungarian pastries and desserts are divine, and it's easily one of my top ten favorite cities in the world.

On our first evening in Budapest, we went to a wine tasting event in a cave, underneath the Buda Castle. We had to talk down about 60 steps to get to the actual cave. While trying to get out of the cave, I got lost, and ended up asking two of the servers to help me find a way out. They calmly climbed up 60 steps with me, pointed to the Exit sign, and asked me to go there. Apparently, my mind decided that the Exit door was merely a suggestion and that I had to find my own way out. Anyway, here's a picture of the cave where did the tasting:



After the tasting, we walked around the Buda side of the city, and took some pictures of the Chain Bridge:



And of the Parliament, which is apparently the second biggest Parliament building in the world:



The next day, we went to the biggest Turkish bath place in Budapest. But before we could go there, we were distracted by, what else, food. We suddenly found ourselves outside a cafe, and before we knew it, these Hungarian desserts had already been ordered and consumed:



At the bath, there were about 18 pools of various sizes and temperatures, and over 10 sauna rooms. Three of these hot pools were outdoors, and to be in a steaming hot pool, when the outside temperature is below freezing, was amazing. We were there for over four hours,and even after that, I didn't want to leave. Security almost had to be called to pull me out of water to get me to leave. But if you were there, you'd totally understand why I wanted to stay in there forever:



On the last day, we just walked around on the Pest side of the city and tried in vain to find a falafel place. We instead ended up going to one of the restaurants in the Castle district area, and we were glad we did, because our last meal was divine. On the way back to the airport, I had a glass water bottle in my handbag, which broke because my bag fell. As a result, everything from my cellphone to my glasses got soaking wet. This was clearly not my fault, because one can only buy water in glass bottle in Hungary! I blame the country of Hungary for the destruction of my phone and the near murder of my handbag and all the accessories it contained. The End.

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!

Less than 12 hours to go

before I fly out to New York. Any normal person would be busy packing at this point in time. But me? I'm looking up vacation spots in Europe, reading about quantum entanglement (don't even get me started on that), listening to Lady Antebellum, and making a list of all the restaurants I want to hit while I'm in town. Oh and I'm also fantasizing about the day when I'll have Charlize Theron's physique so I can parade around at the beach in a swimsuit. All this, while having some ice-cream, of course. I need help. Or more dessert. Or something.

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 :)

New Year, new me?

Let's be honest, that's never going to happen. No matter what the year, my insanity will never go away. Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or for people like me, an awesome National Day of Eating. I just got back from spending ten blissful days in England, as a result of which I feel like I'm part British, and hence from now on, I'm going to use words like "reckon" and "knackered" on a frighteningly regular basis. All this shall take place while sipping a cup of tea, with an outstretched pinky finger, of course!

Speaking of the New Year, did any of us make any new year resolutions? Mine is to lose the ten pounds that I have been trying to lose for the last one hundred years, in addition to losing the five that I gained over the break, and to finally be beach ready. If history repeats itself, then this resolution will soon fall by the wayside to make room for cookies and cake. And fondue. And chocolates. And...okay I think you get the idea.

2010 pretty much changed my life, by taking me halfway across the world and bringing some truly amazing people in my life. I'm blessed to have had the opportunities that I did, and grateful for the love and support of some truly amazing friends and a special someone. I hope this year continues to surprise me, in the best possible way. For now, let's enjoy these last few moments of lingering holiday laziness and peace, before the new year begins full throttle. I "reckon" I'm now going to practice my "loveleh" British accent and try to convince the residents of Switzerland that I am, in fact, British, dahling! And I'm going to ask anyone who doubts my "Britishness" to "bugger off"! Cheers!

Happy Holidays!

Dearie me - I can't believe it's been nearly a month since my last blog update! The following has happened in these past few weeks:

- I signed a new contract to stay in Zurich for an indefinite period of time. Or at least until I've managed to eat every single piece of Swiss chocolate that I can lay my hands on.

- I went to Paris during Christmastime, and had the most wonderful time with someone wonderful. There was an attack of the snow, but it made everything that much more beautiful:



- Because of the holidays, there are chocolates everywhere, especially at work. As a result, I have now turned into a zombie who just trolls all the floors in the office building, looking for my next chocolate fix. I walk up to random people's desks, take any chocolate that I see lying around, and then walk away. I hear there's talk of staging an intervention to help me make it out of this. I hope they have chocolate at the rumored intervention.

- A direct side-effect of the above situation has been an exponential expansion of my ass. It is as wide as Pluto the planet now and shows no signs of shrinking anytime soon.

- I hosted my first cheese fondue dinner, and it was heavenly! I would like to show you pictures of said event, but I was too busy eating all the food to remember to take pictures.

- I have been eating so much fondue that I'm basically starting to look like one.

- I upheld my annual December tradition, and lost one glove last week. I now have five left hand gloves, because I keep losing the right one on a different mode of public transport. Every year. For five years in a row. Just one of the many reasons why I need therapy.

- Managed to take some pictures of the Christmas tree at Paradeplatz:



- And took some pictures of Zurich in winter:



I'm now off to London for Christmas and to Birmingham for New Year's Eve. So in case I don't get around to updating this blog anytime soon, here's wishing everyone Happy Holidays and hope you have a wonderful New Year!

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!

Oktoberfest Shenanigans

Ladies and Gentlemen, the wait is now over! After an over extended hiatus, I'm back in the world of blogging, and with a backlog of stories that I need to share. We'll begin this return with details about the Oktoberfest trip to Munich:

Oktoberfest, an annual three week festival, takes place in the Bavarian region of Germany. During these three weeks, it traditionally attracts around six million people from all over the world. I'd tell you the historical significance of this festival, but that would require me to check Wikipedia, and since boredom levels are insurmountable, that's not going to happen. It's mainly known for the copious amounts of beer that is available and is consumed.



Now, most of you know that I don't drink beer, so every time I told someone that I was going to Oktoberfest, they gave me the same perplexed look that we all had when we found out that Justin Timberlake could act. The look said, "Really? You? How?". Having never attended Oktoberfest, or any beer related event really, I convinced myself that I could always just get a glass of wine at a beer tent in Munich. Go ahead, you can laugh. Everyone else already did. Anyway, with a carefully formulated plan that was based solely on naiveté, my friend C and I left for Munich by train. We were to meet up with my BFF Dev, who was already in Munich, and then meet up with J and S, a couple of other friends, who were taking a later train to get there. I spent most of the time sleeping and thinking about what I wanted to eat for dinner. I mean, if I'm not thinking about food at least once a minute, then who am I, really? We finally made it to Munich at around five in the evening, dropped off C's bag at his hotel, and made our way to Dev and my hotel.

Having not seen Dev in over six months, my excitement levels, which each approaching moment, were out of control. In fact, in my excitement, I got us lost on the way there. A genuine mistake, one that anyone would have made, I'm sure. We finally found the hotel, and Dev and I shrieked loud enough to cause the building to shake. There was plenty of incoherent mumbling and a lot of blubbering. C, being a guy, didn't know how to react to this, so he resorted to admiring the dull, white paint on the walls. We caught up on six months of gossip as fast as we could, and then met up with the rest of the boys - J, and S - who, by now, were in Munich.

We all proceeded to have dinner, a whole FIVE HOURS after my initial plan, mind you, but the food was delicious, so I had no complaints. We then made our way to a Beer bar, where, based on my naive plan, I ordered wine. The woman looked at me funny and got me orange juice instead. That's when I realized that my "wine at a beer place" plan was deeply flawed. Now the question was - do I leave aside all my prejudice and give beer a shot, or do I continue to hate it and then just end up having nothing but water at Oktoberfest? Keep reading to find out what happened...

Shenanigans take a new turn...

Since the men - C, J, and S, had no semblance of a plan on how to approach Oktoberfest, such that we could get in without having made reservations at any of the tents, Dev and I decided to take control of the situation and informed everyone that we would meet at the actual Oktoberfest venue at 8:30 the next morning. The boys assured us that they would be there and that we needn't worry. They also assured us that they had directions to the place, and with their GPS, Google Maps on phones, and BatSignals, there was no possible way that they would get lost. Being women, we should have known better, but we decided to trust the guys anyway. After shaking hands on the verbal agreement that we had just created, we parted ways at around 1am - the guys went to their hotel, while Dev and I went to ours.

The next morning, we - and by we I mean the women - were at the designated meeting point at 8:30 in the morning, complete in wardrobe, hair, and makeup. Even though the day was cold, rainy, and dreary, we were ready to partay at a moment's notice. We waited around for fifteen minutes for the guys, and then called them for an ETA. And whatdoyouknow- they were LOST. In MUNICH. They couldn't find Oktoberfest. IN MUNICH. It bears repeating and can't be written in lower caps. We just told them to follow the crowd. I mean, thousands of people walking in on direction is hard to miss, right? RIGHT? WRONG! Apparently, trusting a freaking GPS is better than following a million people. So, with the help of this wonderfully trustworthy GPS, the boys found themselves in Cambodia. Well, not really, but they might as well have been! Upon calling them 134th time and being told that they were "only ten minutes away," we knew that we'd see them one day, when we were grey and old. So we did what any normal women would do under these circumstances - we went and got a pretzel. The pretzel was as big as a house, but hunger levels were high, so it was demolished in no time.

An hour, I repeat, an HOUR later, the boys found us. I was ready to unleash my hour long pent up rage, but looking at their cold, wet, and sad little faces, I couldn't muster up the energy for anything more than resigned shaking of the head. That's right, they walked around for an hour in the rain, without an umbrella. Because apparently, not only do real men walk around following GPS systems that don't work, they also don't believe in the power of an umbrella.

Anyway, after giving them numerous disappointing looks, we made our way into the Paulaner tent, which was one of the bigger tents at the festival. The mood inside was - haha - very festive, with people breaking into song and dance spontaneously, and music playing everywhere:



And, guys and gals, this is where history was created.

What history, you ask? Well, this location, this tent, is where, for the first time, I had beer. Yes, you read it here first, I had beer. And it wasn't bad! Not that I'm going to line up for the next beer event, but the fact that I managed to have some beer and live to write about it is historic in it's own way. Here's a Kodak moment that captured said history:



After hanging out in the tent for nearly six hours, the five of us decided to venture out in the daylight and change locations. And this is where technology played havoc again. C, who had the power of Google Maps that led the boys the wrong way, had run out of credit on his prepaid cellphone, so as soon as we got out of the tent, he promptly got lost. Because that's what men do these days. They get lost when left unchaperoned for more than a minute.

Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think finding a white guy in a crowd of hundred thousand in Germany is exactly a piece of cake. Dev and I took control of the search and rescue operation and organized search parties among the four of us who were still standing. After a couple of hours, we decided to head back to the hotel, hoping that he'd be there. One of us had the idea to try and refill his cellphone on our own, so we finally organized an international search party by calling someone in Zurich to go to a local store and have credit added to his phone number.

Eventually, we found him, and upon asking him what he had been upto, we found out that after walking around for twenty minutes, he got hungry and went to McDonalds for some burger and fries. While we were working on a route for the search party. He was eating fries and having a McFlurry. At one point, due to my vertical challenges, I was standing on top of an overturned beer barrel to find C, while he was having a McFlurry. This is why women need to rule the world - at least we aren't distracted by food! Okay fine, I can be, but when in crisis mode, even copious amounts of pastries and chocolate wouldn't make me budge from the task at hand! Anyway, all's well that ends well, and the only way this could have ended well was with food, which it did. We went to another German restaurant, where I had the most amazing Pumpkin soup I've had! Satiated, the failed search and rescue operation of the morning was almost a distant memory. With emphasis on the world ALMOST.

On our last morning there, C, Dev, and I went on the Third Reich Tour in Munich, where we learned about the rise of Hitler, before he moved to Berlin. Here's a look at the Beer Hall where Hitler gave his first major speech:



The tour was extremely informative and educational. We walked in the footsteps of people who reshaped world history and tried to get a glimpse into life in Munich in 1933. In conclusion, the Munich trip had it all - humor, drama, suspense, and history. It was a wonderful trip with some truly awesome people - even though many of them were incapable of following instructions and hid in McDonalds during search and rescue operations :)

I am alive!

I promise! Unlike some people, I did NOT get lost at Oktoberfest. I've just been insanely busy with work and with my BFF who's visiting me from New York. The Oktfest crew also went to Montreux this weekend, and to say that I felt like I was in paradise would be an understatement:



I am going to spend a massive amount of time this weekend updating the blog with details about the Munich trip, which will include:

- Triggering a philosophical debate on why men can't ask for directions even when they are obviously lost

- A short story about what men do when they are lost in a crowd, while others are conducting a massive manhunt for them

- Answer to a burning question: Does what happened at Oktoberfest ever really stay at Oktoberfest?

- An explanation on why wine tastings will be the death of me

- Discussion point: Is there ever such a thing as "too much wine?"

Stay tuned for more! Until then, I leave you with a visual teaser of what's to come:

Life happened

This month has been really busy - between finalizing my long-term career plans, figuring out some personal stuff, and the return of Fall TV, there hasn't been any time to blog about:

- Watching some really terrible movies

- Visiting the dentist in a country where English, though widely spoken, is still a second language

- Debating whether the term "cougar" really even applies to women who are under 30

- Doing my first ever 10K run and promptly dying at the end of it

- Going through the agony of only being able to eat three meals a day for two consecutive weeks due to stress

I'm off to Munich this weekend for Oktoberfest, which should be interesting because I don't even drink beer! I also get to meet my BFF from New York who is currently in Berlin - can't wait to catch up with her on all the gossip!

I hope to come back sometime before the end of this decade to blog about Munich, and about some additional traveling that I plan on doing within the next few days. Until then, May the force be with you!

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.

Progress!

I'm finally done sorting the 503242 pictures that I took in Paris. On a Saturday night, instead of going out like the rest of the world, I'm holed up in the apartment doing this. If this doesn't prove my love for you, I don't know what will. And don't listen to those pesky rumors flying around about exhaustion and food coma being the real reason why I'm home today. It's all lies, I tell you, LIES! I'll be back tomorrow to write about it. Meanwhile, here's a taste of what's to come:



I absolutely love this picture, because it reminds me of the timeless nature of Paris. When you walk around, you can visualize how life must have been 50, 100, 500 years ago. But more on that tomorrow. For now, I'm going to be like a grandmother and go to bed at 10. On a Saturday night. Somebody please slap me.

Paris details

are on their way, but you'll have to wait until the weekend to hear about the crepe consumption, the thing that stood between me and creme brulee, and about taking a nap in Jardin des Tuileries. Meanwhile, here's a high level summary of the entire weekend:

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 :)

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...

Aaaand I'm back!

I'm back from London; had an amazing time there! It's a LOT different from what it used to be about four years ago, when I lived there for a few months. Overall, it just felt so damn good to be in a big, English-as-the-main-language city, full of hustle and bustle, and feel the beat of a big city once again. I've got loads to share, but I need to unpack, do laundry, eat, watch True Blood, watch Mad Men, have a long debate about whether or not I want to have dessert, probably end up having some dessert, and do the dishes, before I can really talk about the trip. In the mean time, one of these things didn't happen on the trip - I'll let you try and figure out which one it was:

1) I did takeout before I even reached my friend's apartment in London
2) I got a papercut on my arm
3) When doing takeout, I was asked, "Is this for two people or three?"
4) I had to wake up at 3:30am to catch the first flight back to Zurich and go to work
5) I hugged clothes in the Petite section in stores
6) I finally turned down an offer of food

Will either be back later today or most likely tomorrow with the first snippets. Until then, keep guessin'!

UPDATE: I JUST WATCHED LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE OF TRUE BLOOD AND I AM @#$%$^%$. THIS SHOW HAS TAKEN AWAY MY ABILITY TO TYPE IN LOWER CAPS. HOLY COW. WHAT AN EPISODE. SUFFICE TO SAY, DETAILS ABOUT LONDON WILL HAVE TO WAIT. WOW.

Busy, busy, busy...

I'm having a busy few weeks, so posting will be minimal at best. The schedule has been somewhat like this: had a brunch for 10 people at my place over the weekend, meeting various people for dinners this week, and then off to London on Thursday for the weekend. I promise to come back with details about the trip and about the insanities that ensued while there. Until then, I'd like to leave you with this exchange that I had with a friend at work:

Me: I'm thinking of cutting down on the dessert.

Friend: NO you can't do that! You will make life extremely difficult for all of us. At the moment, if we eat dessert, we always think "oh, it's ok, Jigz has probably eaten more dessert than me today" and then carry on munching. What are we supposed to do if you cut down on your dessert consumption?

So there you have it. I must continue eating dessert for the betterment of mankind. Remember, you heard it here first.

Kinder Ninja

You weren't expecting me to post the next update so quickly, were you? I like surprising people - keeps things interesting. Let's see what happened on Sunday. The morning began as all mornings do, with food. Breakfast was included in our room and board, and we all know how I feel about free food. Right before I ate pretty much everything that I could humanly eat, I walked around and took some pictures from the hotel of Lake Thun and the mountains:





And one more:



After breakfast, we made our way back to the sports company with whom we now had a rafting trip planned. The gear we had to get dressed in this time around was rafting gear, which they thankfully had in my size! I was ecstatic. Ecstasy lowered itself into mere happiness upon discovery of the fact that they still didn't have any shoes in my size. We drove to the river (I think the river was called Lucino but I could also totally be making that up) and got a lesson in rowing and instruction-following. Soon, we were in the river and pretty much thrown into the rapids as soon as we got in:



The fact that I'm terribly uncoordinated is not news to anyone. And this is without you even being aware of how one day I fell on my strawberries while walking and crushed them all. But I digress. Due to my lack of coordination, I would keep sliding into the raft, as opposed to being seated on the edge and paddling. Thankfully, I was in the very back, so no one noticed. However, when such things happened:



my screams got loud enough to wake up the dead. Soon, we got our first break to catch our breath. I was extremely proud of the fact that I still hadn't fallen into the river. But it was still early days. When we made it back into the river for round two, the rapids we encountered were even stronger. At one such time, the wave that we got hit with was too strong, and it ended up taking my paddle away. Yes, I lost my paddle. To the river. I don’t think such things happen to normal people, but they do to me. It turned out to be blessing in disguise, as the rest of the guys had to carry my weight, which we all know is quite a bit to carry.

In one of the general hilarity that ensued from me losing my paddle, my friends started calling me Kinder, which means child in German. This had to do with the fact that my birthday comes once every four yrs and nothing at all to do with the fact that I am short. Nothing at all, I’m positive. The raft guide who sat next to me and saved my life many-a-times was chatting with us, and when he kept hearing my friends call me kinder, thought that was my name. We explained to him the origins of the word Kinder. He then looked at me and out of the blue said that I looked like a Ninja. Which, in hindsight, I totally did. It was decided that I be called Kinder Ninja. I must admit, I actually quite like the sound of it. It has the makings of a solid action flick. "When the world is in peril, only one person can save it - Kinder Ninja" Like sound of it. I'm calling Spielberg as we speak.

Anyway, once the rafting adventure ended, we drove back to Zurich. The trip was amazing, the company fabulous. I leave you with one final image of the views that we passed on the drive back: