I realise that "Lose Yourself in Lansdowne Part II" never happened. But I did write a compact account here, so do check it out. More soon, photos if nothing else, as soon as the current workload decreases. :|

Continued from here

After witnessing the amazingly beautiful Piazzale Michelangelo, we had dinner at the International Ashoka Restaurant and retired for the night at Hotel Nuovo Londra in Montecatini Terme E Tettuccio. We reached the hotel at around 10:15 PM, and were almost immediately tucked into our beds after the tiring but equally wonderful day.

The next morning, we got up early at 5:00 AM, and after a delightful and refreshing one hour walk, we got ready, had breakfast and left for Rome. En route, we stopped over for a bite at AutoGrill. My mouth waters even now when I think of the undescribable pasta. Somehow we managed to convince ourselves to not devour the complete joint and moved on.

We reached Vatican City at 4:00 PM and saw the St.Peter's Basilica, boasting of the biggest dome of the world and home to Pope (then John Paul II). The dome was also designed by Michelangelo. Funnily enough, even our bus driver was named John Paul, so we ended up calling him Pope. The tour of the Basilica was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had, yet. You simply couldn't ignore anything, especially St. Peter's 'Mummy', a Bronze statue whose feet are touched to wash away one's sins, the Holy Door, which only opened for great celebrations, and Pietà, Michelangelo's famous sculpture showing Virgin Mary sitting peacefully with Christ's dead body in her lap.

The Bronze Statue

Amusing was the uniform of the Swiss Guards. You just couldn't resist smiling at the fresh and colorful dresses that they wore. Exitting the Vatican, we had a panoromic tour of the city of Rome - went around Victoria Memorial, Mussolini's Palace, the Colosseum, the Opera, Constantine's Arch and Trevi Fountain, where we finally halted, to admire it's beauty, and of course, to toss a coin and make a wish :D. From there, we had a walking tour of the Spanish-square-steps, and later went on to the Fashion Street.

Trevi Fountain

Swiss Guards

Finally, after having dinner, we drove to Hotel Ibis Accor (Roma Tor Vergata) and checked in by 11:00 PM. From the balcony of our room, we witnessed an amazing group dance event in a nearby ground where, youngsters and oldies alike, danced with absolute coordination, as a local band played. We tried, but in vain, to keep pace with the troupe in our balcony itself. A little later, we were already asleep.

My friend Sporadicblogger has very benevolently taken pity on the comatose state of this blog and permitted me to borrow this post. The original post is from here.
I just came back from a trip to Alibag (the ‘u’ was just for style) and I’m struggling to stop the words. From a drought to a flood (in my head, atleast…) and I’m lovin’ it :)

Last Saturday, some of us from class sat around in the basketball court, well fed from a nearly canteen, talking about work. And obviously the topic strayed to things un-work and we came up with the bright idea of making a class trip of Alibag. Actually, it went like this: “I’ve heard Alibag is a nice place-” “We should go there some time-” “How about next saturday?” (Yep. With the dashes.)

So fifteen of us made the journey-but only six came back.

*Dramatic pause*

Tee hee. The rest pushed off early because they wanted to take the 4.15 ferry back to Mumbai. We, on the other hand, decided to chance the MSRTC.

Ah, the MSRTC. It is THE way to travel. The very act of entering one exposes you to potential damage, in multiple ways, multiple times. They are the triple D- dirty, dangerous dabbas-and I love them.

Indian buses come personalised. Every journeyman* considers it a bounden duty to leave behind a mark to commemorate the journey. And comes suitably equipped with multi-coloured sketch pens. Creative.

I have always had bad luck with crank calls. Neither have I ever been able to make a successful one, nor have I ever had the opportunity of giving any interesting replies. Some people, on the other hand, hit the jackpot. Imagine having an STD crank caller ask you where you are…and being able to say- in the middle of the sea, on a tonga. I mean, if I were the crank caller, I would hang up my boots. You can’t better that. Especially when it is the truth.

The sea, once, very famously parted for Moses. So what, right? The sea parts twice, daily, for all visitors to the Colaba Fort. (Obviously I’m taking some poetic liberties here. But hey, so were they.)

The Fort houses a small community of pujaris who maintain a temple on the the premises-the only structure still left standing-or made to remain standing-and the journey is unforgettable. When you’re on the horse drawn cart (which almost seems to double as a ferry!) and can see the sea ahead of you and behind you, it can be-quite unique. It is one of those things that ought to fill the pages of Things-To-Do-Before-One-Dies kind of books. Unless ofcourse I’m completely unaware of other such structures around. Ooh, quite close to the Colaba fort lie the-ruins?- of another fort which has a temple dedicated to Betaal- the king of ghosts, if I’m not mistaken. Now THAT I want to visit!!:D:D

Anyway, simply put, or rather, simbly put-the day was marrvellouz.

Random, uninformed wandering in the galis of a strange town.

Drinking a cola (after ages, and as an exception. I’m still off those things) and watching lawyers at a nearby courthouse. Dressed in black suits in the scorching heat, while I was in shorts. (Poor things. Can’t they rebel against the ridiculous and asinine dress code??)

Splicing open various parts of my feet and hand on underwater rocks (Ok, I just wanted to use the word. But yeah, those underwater rocks can be mean! I have a few nasty-ish cuts on the sole of my foot and on a finger.) in a bid to see a crab (which scuttled away and remained unseen).
Getting a real glimpse of underwater life for the first time. Tiny shells…with creatures in them. Tiny holes, and pretty patterns on the beach. Made presumably by baby crabs?

Watching a moth explode out of the head of the person sitting in front of me. (Allow me the dramatic inaccuracies.) And feeling like a King because I pretended that the man had a thought which the moth caught and flew away with(it sounds better in hindi). I haven’t had an idiotic thought like that in quite a while now- so I know I haven’t completely lost It.

Feeling the beginnings of a blogpost(I can stretch the term a little…) in my head and getting all pukey because of typing it out on the cell, on a moving MSRTC DDD.

Reaching home, tired and dirty, tentatively hoping to have turned a corner. In life, and otherwise.

I love Alibaug.

*used gender-neutrally

Italy holds a special place in my heart. And its not limited to the idolization of Italian Mafia and Omerta. Its not limited to Carlo Gambino. Its not limited to Mario Puzo. Its not limited to Michelangelo. Not to Rome, Julius Caesar or the Vatican City.

Somehow, Italy has always been the place for me. Everything about the country is fantastic. No offence to Mahabharata, but even the myths. That's why learning Italy would be one of the destinations of our europe tour of 2003 almost made me ecstatic.

We entered Italy at Como on 3rd June 2003 from the Switzerland border and, despite the luring landscapes, continued on to reach Pisa at 3:30 PM. The place with the leaning tower, if you don't know already, that is. The best part about Italy is- the architecture is simply amazing. The cathedral and the tower were stunning. We strayed beside the marvelous structures for almost two hours while the guide kept blabbering about how the foundation on one side gave way partially leading to this famous mistake.

After getting the usual "I'm holding Pisa Tower" photo clicked, we left at around 5:30 pm and reached Piazzale Michelangelo (More commonly known as Michelangelo Point to us foreigners. Video Tour) at 7:00 PM. This place is a magnificent square atop a small hill near Florence, from where you can view the complete city. It was designed in 1869 by Giuseppe Poggi as a tribute to the great artist Michelangelo and showcases a copy of one of Michelangelo's greatest works, the bronze (nude) David, in the centre. That, and the view, makes just the perfect landscape.

Here are some pics courtesy Google Image Search. I'll try to find some pics from the actual trip and post them soon.




Continued Here

"Preparing" for our trip to Lansdowne was anyhting but easy, simply because of the scarcity of information. It's got to be the first time the internet hasn't overloaded me with unwanted (or wanted, for that matter) details. So, for a family that likes its vacations as organised as possible, we didn't have much to start off with. We knew (roughly) the route to be followed, and the approximate duration (6 hours supposedly, but don't let them fool you). Fortunately there were enough indicators to prompt us to book a place to stay before we left, so we reserved a room in the hotel Fairydale (what a quaint name!). A good decision, since there are hardly any facilities for tourists in this small town that serves as the headquarters for the Garhwal Rifles.

So anyway, we left on the 26th of May at 4.30 pm (a grave, grave mistake, as it turned out), following the route Delhi-Meerut (bypass)-Mawana-Bijnor-Najibabad-Kotdwar-Lansdowne. Not as easy as it looks. We stopped for a bite at Big Bite (sheesh), a really nice eatery on the Delhi-Meerut bypass, (though there's also a Natthu's (!) and a CCD up ahead, which we obviously discovered only after we were well stuffed). In any case, the journey was pretty uneventful despite the dark, and warnings of dacoits along the way (I wish we'd met some, it would've been so exciting! Don't worry, I was well prepared. I planned to hit them hard on the nose with an umbrella). Uttar Pradesh is pretty infamous for its (lack of) road signs, because of which we lost our way several times. And the people we asked for directions were equally confusing; we got convoluted explanations like "go straight ahead till you reach the end of the road, then keep going straight (how do you go straight when you've reached the end of the road?) till you come to a fork with two roads inclined at 45 degrees to each other..." Bleh.

The hills started after Kotdwar, and so did the bumpy ride uphill. The roads were enough to make anyone roadsick, they were probably worse than usual because of the recent storms and rains. And worse, they didn't have any markers or directions. Dangerous when you're climbing in the inky darkness, like fools we were. Anyway, we feasted on the sight of the flaming orange half-moon that hung in the sky slightly below us, and lost our way several times, went through the (dead) "city" (a fancy name for what I would call the marketplace), and finally reached our destination at 1.30 (six hours, my foot). Whew, relief! The chilly night air jogged our senses as we were shown to our (quaint) room and went off into a blissful slumber.

To be continued...