The Singapore Diary

Day 1
Chennai to Changi - All airports basically begin to look the same after some point of travel. Shiny surroundings, sparkling glass walls, spotless floors, uniformed men / women....etc. The crazy feeling of ' Visiting Foreign for first time' wasn't there thankfully. It had exhausted in the Dubai trip couple of years ago. Funny this - soon after we accomplish that which seems almost impossible, it appears like second nature to us. For example, always scared of heights, when I flew first time, between take off and landing, I was surprised to find myself behaving like a seasoned flier. As I was done with the ' wow' factor of Dubai razzmatazz, I walked on the Travelator non-chalantly, forgetting to call up my friend who had told me  I could do free calls.  I am famous for losing my way, so the advice to call. Its ironic - When thrown into alien situations, I manage to steer smooth though I appear confused. People get panicky about me even after I ascertain
Can't heip the look, can I? So, here I was in front of my friend whom I met years later. As we moved with my strolley in tow, suddenly from nowhere, a pair of doors opened and I found myself in a Metro!! MRT as they call it here, right from thr exit of an airport was  strange but utter convenience. After a couple of sweet sounding announcements by a female, before every station, we alighted at our destination. The stations sounded weird of course, with names like Bukit Batok, Pasir Ris, Bukit Gombak, Joo Koon....Having taught Korean Adults & and Children while in Pune, the last name Joo Koon sounded familiar while the people looked like Koreans. After alighting at a station, in no time we reached home. I got it - MRT - platform-couple of escalators - out after swiping the card - you could either cross the road to your apartment or enter the Shopping Mall / food court.that starts right after MRT station exit. Later..to be continued

The Singapore Diary

Day 1
Chennai to Changi - All airports basically begin to look the same after some point of travel. Shiny surroundings, sparkling glass walls, spotless floors, uniformed men / women....etc. The crazy feeling of ' Visiting Foreign for first time' wasn't there thankfully. It had exhausted in the Dubai trip couple of years ago. Funny this - soon after we accomplish that which seems almost impossible, it appears like second nature to us. For example, always scared of heights, when I flew first time, between take off and landing, I was surprised to find myself behaving like a seasoned flier. As I was done with the ' wow' factor of Dubai razzmatazz, I walked on the Travelator non-chalantly, forgetting to call up my friend who had told me  I could do free calls.  I am famous for losing my way, so the advice to call. Its ironic - When thrown into alien situations, I manage to steer smooth though I appear confused. People get panicky about me even after I ascertain
Can't heip the look, can I? So, here I was in front of my friend whom I met years later. As we moved with my strolley in tow, suddenly from nowhere, a pair of doors opened and I found myself in a Metro!! MRT as they call it here, right from thr exit of an airport was  strange but utter convenience. After a couple of sweet sounding announcements by a female, before every station, we alighted at our destination. The stations sounded weird of course, with names like Bukit Batok, Pasir Ris, Bukit Gombak, Joo Koon....Having taught Korean Adults & and Children while in Pune, the last name Joo Koon sounded familiar while the people looked like Koreans. After alighting at a station, in no time we reached home. I got it - MRT - platform-couple of escalators - out after swiping the card - you could either cross the road to your apartment or enter the Shopping Mall / food court.that starts right after MRT station exit. Later..to be continued

The other cosmos

                        Having stayed in a small township in Gujarat for 13 long years, (which initially I loathed) had to visit villages in and around as part of work. I was reluctant to go at first because many places in Gujarat, though a developed state in India, reeked of stench and mosquitoes owing to the open drainage system for reasons unknown as compared to the cultural city of Pune which I had to leave years back. Well I still remember the first abode I visited in one of the hamlets. The verandah was clean and spotless no fancy tile work though but plain soil, painted with cow dung that had dried and gave a greenish look. We were given chairs to sit upon. During the hour that we spent, didn't experience a single mosquito bite ! Though the house was dark inside, I found things were neatly arranged, the kitchen was clean too. There was no bathroom ! There it was at the backyard far away from the house and I remembered my Great granny's house in Mysore where one had to literally walk few minutes to go to the 'loo'. Around the houses were trees in plenty and fresh air fanned the whole surrounding. Oh ! it was heavenly and I started falling in love with the 'gams' as the villages are called there. Visiting villages became a pleasure trip thereafter, with discovering freshly transplanted rice, 'toor', 'vaal', ( pulses) and freshly grown 'gawar' (cluster beans), 'bhindi' (okra) etc and not to mention the delicious variety of mangoes- The Alphonso and Kesar.

                              It was after a long time after shifting to a city, I got the chance to visit the villages once again. Life appeared simple and 'Nawabi' (Royal) there, with the 'Mehmaannawazi' (hospitality) of our city dweller but landowner friends. Food is one of the real luxuries, being cooked on the 'chulha' with home grown cereals, pulses and vegetables. No glass wares but native style of cooking and served hot. Rice bread 'The Rotlas' prepared with rice flour dough which women dish out with one hand and spread on hot 'tawas' (Pans) using the palms and then dish them out with the spatula onto the flat bamboo woven basket, serving them with pickle, salad, and spicy egg plant or good old potato gravy dish interspersed with whole lentils. The day we reached early morning, began with a cup of hot tea and 'farsan' (snacks). Later as we chatted sitting on the mats, fresh 'chikoos' (Sapota or sapodilla) grown in the backyard arrived. Gujarat grown chikoos are the best in India and its sweetness can't be matched elsewhere. After gulping down a couple of the fleshy fruit, it was time for  mid morning 'Mohanthaal' (a sweet dish compulsory in Gujarati weddings). And thus the day went on with eating, napping going around the house and fields. After attending two weddings in a typical 'hot summer at its peak day', it was time to sleep and we were informed, we were to sleep on the terrace ! Wow ! as comfy the beds spread on the terrace looked, even more spectacular was the star show on the sky above. It was after nearly two decades that I got to see the huge number of heavenly darlings in the night and the eyes hit idyllic sopor.

                      A morning walk of about three kilometers into the vineyard of local vegetable called 'tindora' and brinjals plus many other wild species with their berries, some used in pickles was exhilarating. The mango trees were bare, very less fruit a man said. The hut amidst the vegetable farm and mango trees looked picturesque, otherwise a norm, a necessity in the village, where one stayed to drive away the nocturnals which would harm the crop. Either one of the family members would stay or someone would be hired for the purpose. The walk back home was a learning experience as well, with the sheep minus their furs and goats, all bundled up in a pen, the rooster running helter skelter and cuckoos singing at top of their voices. 

                          A lazy affair the village visit...didn't have to be formal, was jolly good self, meandering here and there except for few curious looks from the dwellers. Clicking a slow life was fun, there was work but unlike the helter skelter affair of the city, and urgency for what? The morning breakfast, the afternoon meal and then dinner. All the shredding, chopping of vegetables in bulk by 3 to 4 ladies in the house was sheer fun to watch. In fact few women even showed the vegetables they were chopping in the right angles so that I could click, after the initial look of amusement on their faces. How blissful it is to breathe in the idyllic den !

The other cosmos

                        Having stayed in a small township in Gujarat for 13 long years, (which initially I loathed) had to visit villages in and around as part of work. I was reluctant to go at first because many places in Gujarat, though a developed state in India, reeked of stench and mosquitoes owing to the open drainage system for reasons unknown as compared to the cultural city of Pune which I had to leave years back. Well I still remember the first abode I visited in one of the hamlets. The verandah was clean and spotless no fancy tile work though but plain soil, painted with cow dung that had dried and gave a greenish look. We were given chairs to sit upon. During the hour that we spent, didn't experience a single mosquito bite ! Though the house was dark inside, I found things were neatly arranged, the kitchen was clean too. There was no bathroom ! There it was at the backyard far away from the house and I remembered my Great granny's house in Mysore where one had to literally walk few minutes to go to the 'loo'. Around the houses were trees in plenty and fresh air fanned the whole surrounding. Oh ! it was heavenly and I started falling in love with the 'gams' as the villages are called there. Visiting villages became a pleasure trip thereafter, with discovering freshly transplanted rice, 'toor', 'vaal', ( pulses) and freshly grown 'gawar' (cluster beans), 'bhindi' (okra) etc and not to mention the delicious variety of mangoes- The Alphonso and Kesar.

                              It was after a long time after shifting to a city, I got the chance to visit the villages once again. Life appeared simple and 'Nawabi' (Royal) there, with the 'Mehmaannawazi' (hospitality) of our city dweller but landowner friends. Food is one of the real luxuries, being cooked on the 'chulha' with home grown cereals, pulses and vegetables. No glass wares but native style of cooking and served hot. Rice bread 'The Rotlas' prepared with rice flour dough which women dish out with one hand and spread on hot 'tawas' (Pans) using the palms and then dish them out with the spatula onto the flat bamboo woven basket, serving them with pickle, salad, and spicy egg plant or good old potato gravy dish interspersed with whole lentils. The day we reached early morning, began with a cup of hot tea and 'farsan' (snacks). Later as we chatted sitting on the mats, fresh 'chikoos' (Sapota or sapodilla) grown in the backyard arrived. Gujarat grown chikoos are the best in India and its sweetness can't be matched elsewhere. After gulping down a couple of the fleshy fruit, it was time for  mid morning 'Mohanthaal' (a sweet dish compulsory in Gujarati weddings). And thus the day went on with eating, napping going around the house and fields. After attending two weddings in a typical 'hot summer at its peak day', it was time to sleep and we were informed, we were to sleep on the terrace ! Wow ! as comfy the beds spread on the terrace looked, even more spectacular was the star show on the sky above. It was after nearly two decades that I got to see the huge number of heavenly darlings in the night and the eyes hit idyllic sopor.

                      A morning walk of about three kilometers into the vineyard of local vegetable called 'tindora' and brinjals plus many other wild species with their berries, some used in pickles was exhilarating. The mango trees were bare, very less fruit a man said. The hut amidst the vegetable farm and mango trees looked picturesque, otherwise a norm, a necessity in the village, where one stayed to drive away the nocturnals which would harm the crop. Either one of the family members would stay or someone would be hired for the purpose. The walk back home was a learning experience as well, with the sheep minus their furs and goats, all bundled up in a pen, the rooster running helter skelter and cuckoos singing at top of their voices. 

                          A lazy affair the village visit...didn't have to be formal, was jolly good self, meandering here and there except for few curious looks from the dwellers. Clicking a slow life was fun, there was work but unlike the helter skelter affair of the city, and urgency for what? The morning breakfast, the afternoon meal and then dinner. All the shredding, chopping of vegetables in bulk by 3 to 4 ladies in the house was sheer fun to watch. In fact few women even showed the vegetables they were chopping in the right angles so that I could click, after the initial look of amusement on their faces. How blissful it is to breathe in the idyllic den !