Gah!

I find that I'm a lot more observant when I'm at home than when I'm working in the secret service agency (KGB). Maybe it's because there isn't much to observe in a place that hasn't changed for the past fifty (or indeed hundred) years. Or that even if there is, maybe there's no time to stop and take in everything. Like a great man (who's obviously not great enough for me to have remembered his name) once said:

It's very good to stop and stare
To wash your dirty underwear.

Actually, I'm having my doubts about his being great at all. I can't seem to remember the verse, but the gist of it was that we don't take enough time to just take in the beauty around us.

This entry is not concerned with making a conscious observation of all things beautiful. What I want to share with my precious few readers (practically kissing the point 0 on the number line at this point in time (point in time not to be confused with point on aforementioned number line) ) are some observations of human behaviour that I've made over the past week.

Humans are lazy. A temporary solution always takes precedence over a permanent one.
What with me being a budding engineer and all, I guess I should use technical terms when I know them. My dad says that temporary solutions are called "band-aid" solutions. Maybe "temporary" is not the right word when there's no "permanent" solution in the visible horizon. For simplicity, it shall be referred to as a "temporary" solution for the rest of the entry.
[Note: This is getting too recursive to handle. Calling it a "temporary" solution is itself a "temporary solution". Recursion is awesome.]
That clearly wasn't illustrative enough to prove my point. So here goes:
Picture a loo with a soap dish fixed to the wall. The soap dish is small, barely large enough to accommodate one large bar of soap. The unfortunate thing was that this dish housed two soaps, one large and one small. The upshot of this was that every time I washed my hands, I'd pick up the larger bar of soap, and the smaller one would fall down. I'd pick it up and be on my way.
I clearly wasn't the only one doing this in the house, because I'd clean up the soapy patch after I dropped the soap, and find a similar soapy patch the next time I came to wash my hands (before I washed my hands).
Two days later, I found the second bar of soap in another soap dish next to the basin.

Policemen in Bangalore are less efficient than automatic traffic signals
I don't know how true this is in the context of other cities, but in Bangalore, this is a clear problem. When an automatic signal is down, and there's a policeman instead, you'll find that the pile-ups are massive. The policemen, instead of using a time based strategy, seem to think that it's best to allow flow of traffic from one source until the source is almost exhausted of vehicles. This is stupidity, as this condition generally takes ages to achieve. Another completely unrelated fact about policemen in Bangalore is that they are more likely than not to have large pot bellies to drum on, and to keep luxuriant moustaches (I'm not just talking about the policemen here).

The worst part of blogging, or indeed, of any writing activity, is thinking up the title
Fellow bloggers, do you hear me?

Inspiration Kothai Aache?

Hiatus, sabbatical, interregnum. Naaht! It's been sheer laziness and lack of a will to do that've driven me away from posting, or driven me towards not posting (glass half-empty, half-full scenario here).

Anyway, here I am. I'm not just here, I'm here with a purpose. That purpose is to reflect on childhood (in a sense). I say that it's a reflection of childhood "in a sense". I am not making a concrete statement about this entry's "reflection on childhood"ness because I'm unsure at this juncture what this entry is going to turn out to be.

There are some things I don't get. If I don't get something (a concept, for example) in class, I annoy the rest of the class (wake them up) by getting my doubt cleared. On other occasions, I form my own theories, and try to live within the framework of those theories. Some things I don't get leave me flabbergasted - I'm at a loss for theories to describe the laws that govern them.

Where do people around my age get inspiration for sad, morbid poems. Some of the stuff I've seen my peers do is really, really deep. The kind of thing that you read, and it makes you go "only godly inspiration could have created this". Dark poetry about the cold and clammy hands of death, and about unforgiving time. Brilliant personifications, metaphors and analogies that make the writing come alive.

The thing is, I fail to see how a teenager could have had those many sad experiences. Teenage life does have its low points, but they're ever so brief. There's only so much sadness that a person who lives off his parents can experience, right? Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I've just led a passive teenagehood. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe the morbid poet in me didn't get a chance? The blame game is awesome, innit?

On a related note, God-men try to free themselves from the cycle of birth and rebirth by refusing fun, and things like movies, which are illusions that remove you from the way life actually is. Who actually wants to be free from the cycle of birth and rebirth? Life's awesome right? You have things like Hot Chocolate Fudge and the beauty of mathematics and algorithms to make your stay here pleasant. I've been told that a human lifetime is a blessing. "Imagine if you're reborn as a hog". Frankly, eating a lot, sleeping and rolling around in mud doesn't sound so bad at all.

Dazed and Confused

It's amazing how writing a poem can keep you from dropping off...

Where dreams and reality merge into one,
Where the heavenly body in the night is the sun.

Where everyday things take on a new meaning,
Where the mind towards distraction is leaning.

Where three is one and one is three,
Oh please! Of maths class let me be free!


Sid.

Finally!

Yay me!
I finally managed to finish reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on my laptop without anyone spoiling it for me.
There are some good souls left in the world :)
The book rocked!
Happy New Year!
(A very sleepy)
Sid.

Small Scale Evolution

I meant to do this a long time ago, but what the hell! Better late than never!

I'm one of those people who loves just sitting around and just taking in the world, if you know what I mean. It was when I was doing this once that I began to reflect on what I like to call "small scale evolution".

The specimens under study presently are European girls.

Between the ages of zero and four, there are no worries, no issues. Everything takes care of itself. You just have to sleep, eat, and grow fat.

From four to about twelve or so, there are a few things to take care of, but not enough to make you go crazy. The thrill you get from swinging high is as far as it goes. It's a great time...

Between twelve and twenty, girls begin to care too much about how they appear to others. This is the age when they get a little quiet. The noisy and boisterous girls that they were a few years ago are dead.

Before they know it, they're young mothers, caring for their own young.

I probably didn't bring out the effect properly, but I observed all this when I was sitting in a park. I was able to simultaneously watch the behaviour of people in different age groups, and it struck me how huge changes are brought about in people in such a small time.

Opinions...

Sid.

Chamonix

We left Paris on the morning of the 24th, at about 10:00. We had some trouble getting out of the city, but magically found our way to the route we had printed from GoogleMaps. Just as we were about to get onto the autoroute, we missed a turn. If there's one thing I like about Indian highways, it's that you can easily turn around. We took the first exit that we could and tried to find our bearings. We asked for directions at a gas station. The cashier told us that if we went "straight away, straight away", we'd get to the highway.

This, however, turned out to be a long drawn route. We managed to reach Chamonix only at about 3:00 p.m., when we should have been there by 2:00. On the way, we went through quite a few tunnels that had been dug through the mountains. Every time we exited a tunnel, the view got better and better. As usual, once we got into the town/city, we had trouble finding the apartment. To top it all, it was raining. A kind teenage boy who seemed to have come to the town library told us in broken English to follow him and his mother to the place were we were heading, Chalet Beaumont.

The Chalet was beautiful. Breathtaking view of snow capped peaks all around, and a bird's eye view of the town below. The only minus was the fact that the wireless connection was horrible, but hey! I can live with that!

We did nothing productive that day. My parents went to town to buy us supplies (milk, curd, etcetera). The chocolate croissants were fabulous, as was the bottled chocolate milk. Rich is the only word to describe it.

I did nothing the whole day, except read a book called Velocity by Dean Koontz. I had actually commenced reading the book in December 2005, but stopped because I wasn't studying for my prelims :D. Full responsible and all!

We planned an early start the next day. However, we set out only after a hearty lunch of MTR Ready to Eat stuff. We were heading for Aguille du Midi, the peak accessible by cable car. We drove down to the Aguille du Midi Cable Car parking lot and parked the car. Surprisingly, there were no boards pointing us to the Cable Car "station". My dad and I saw some kind of lift nearby. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a construction crane.

A little more exploration got us to the station. Sadly, the car wasn't making trips up to the peak because of stormy weather. After a mild drizzle, the ticket counter opened again. The trip to the peak was very exciting, especially when we changed cable lines while ascending.

Words wouldn't do justice to the view from the top. In a lot of places, all we could see was white. It seemed so clean, so pure. The cold was biting my fingers though. I was unable to throw snowballs on everyone without wearing gloves.

There was also a beautiful ice cave at the peak, where i nearly took a nasty tumble. Slippery as cartoony banana peels, it was!

We also witnessed something very nice at the peak. A gentleman from Guatemala proposed to his girlfriend of 4 (I think) years. He'd apparently bought the ring at Houston, Texas a year ago, but hadn't mustered up the courage to pop the question. It was nice to see them so happy, sipping the champagne that he'd brought with him to celebrate.

The ride down wasn't as scary as I imagined it would be. There is a change of cable cars half way through, at which point there is a neat system intact to ensure that everyone who's gone up has come down too.

We did some shopping after we came down. Shopping is not my favourite hobby, but I tagged along anyway. I enjoyed marvelling at how just crossing a border lets you see a completely different style of architecture.

The next day, we took a train ride to another peak whose name I can't remember. Stayed there for half an hour, took in the view, came back, and did some more shopping. We walked into a shop because we saw a giant packet of Toblerone, but came out in twenty seconds because the shop stank so much. This place specialised in old, spoilt, "collector's edition" breads. Blech!

We returned to the Chalet soon. I finished my book while my parents and my sister packed up... we were to leave to Luxembourg the next day.

A rather bland blog entry, I know, but I'm writing this for the sole purpose of maintaining a journal of what happened in the trip, so I'm able to relive the memories when I can't walk without a stick.

Photos on http://picasaweb.google.com/sidzoo/Chamonix

Sid.

Luxembourg

We made excellent time from Chamonix to Luxembourg. We left Chamonix at about 10 in the morning, and covered the 650 km journey in a little over five and a half hours.

We had booked a place called Hotel Campanile, which I'd found on the net. There was some special deal for a family if the rooms were booked for a day before a public holiday. Luckily, we were staying on the night before Luxembourg Bankers' Day or something, so we were eligible for the discount.

I was patting myself on the back when we walked into the hotel. I'd actually done something good!

We checked in and unloaded the luggage in our rooms. My folks had done very intelligent packing for the trip. Different suitcases for different places and all. The works!

After unwinding in the room, we took a bus to the centre of Luxembourg. Our hotel was next to the airport in Findel. We walked around and did some shopping. We ate a hearty dinner at a pizzeria, and topped it up with fries from McDs. In my opinion, the world's best Mayonnaise can be had at KFC, Bengaluru. Nothing beats it, I swear!

We took a bus back to Campanile, and hit the sack. Our plan was to visit the Vianden Castle the following day before heading back to my aunt's house in Nootdorp, Netherlands.

Before leaving the next morning, my father asked the lady at the reception desk how to get to Vianden. She told us to follow signs to Brussels, until we saw signs to Vianden. Seemed simple enough. We also had a small map of Luxembourg that showed the major highways, so this route seemed about right. We set off...

Sweet disaster struck. Disaster because we crossed into Belgium when we were supposed to remain in Luxembourg until we reached Vianden. Sweet because the country roads were extremely scenic. I realised what had happened. There were multiple roads to Brussels from Campanile, and the road signs led us to one that we didn't want.

We pulled off in the next small town that we saw to ask for directions. We saw a gentleman walking around in a small room in a building in the corner of the road. We excused ourselves into his office and asked him if he could help us find our bearings. He said that we'd have to head towards Mersch in Luxembourg, from where things would be simple. To help us get to Mersch, he fished out a map of Arlon, a nearby town, and told us how to get to Mersch after driving through Arlon. We thanked him profusely.

We went down the road as instructed, but instead of heading into Arlon, we stopped and looked at the road signs. There seemed to be a direct route to Mersch. Without further ado, we headed that way, hoping for the best.

With the expert navigation of my mother and me, my father managed to get us to Vianden Castle by about 2:00 p.m. The castle was beautiful, majestic. I could picture a princess standing at one of the tower windows, waiting to be rescued by some prince with socks going up to his knees!

We didn't, however, go into the castle. I could well imagine what it would be like, and we had already lost time getting lost on the way to Vianden. We left Vianden by about half past three, and successfully found our way back to Nootdorp. We returned the car the next day. It had served us well!

http://picasaweb.google.com/sidzoo/Luxembourg

Sid.