Back in the motherland!

Man, it’s great to be back in Mumbai. I missed the city and my friends and family here!

My flight landed at just after 1 A.M., but by the time I got my bag and got through the various immigration and Swine Flu checkpoints (yeah), it was about 2:30 A.M. I called my friend Mahzarine, at whose house I’m staying for several days, and discovered that she’d had to rush off to Pune (a nearby city) for a couple of days and that she had mis-read my email and thought I was arriving the previous night. Late-night international arrivals are a pain in the backside for the local hosts at the best of times, but she had stayed up almost the whole previous night waiting for me to arrive before she finally got on her 5 AM train to Pune. She was really gracious about it but I’m sure she had a miserable night.

Speaking of gracious hosts, my hosts here (Mahzarine’s family) have been just incredible. Besides making sure I was comfortable when I got to their house at 3:30 AM, her brother had a pre-paid local cell phone ready for me when I arrived, a huge lifesaver and convenience that allowed me to get going on visa stuff immediately the next morning and has called me several times a day to check on me, as has Mahzarine from Pune, and even one of Mahzarine’s friends. Her mom has kept me well-fed and looked-after. And I’ve a mango with my breakfast of scrambled eggs on both days, which is possibly the best way to start the day ever.  (For those of you who haven’t eaten an Indian mango in-season, an Indian Alphonso mango is to a regular mango what Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas is to a slot machine at a drug store in Reno, a sensory experience on a higher plane.)

Yesterday was a quintessential Mumbai experience. After a leisurely morning and a sit-down breakfast, I rushed off to run some visa-related errands, hopping from point to point in taxis that cost about 40 cents each. At about noon I was lucky to grab one of Mumbai’s new, clean, airconditioned Meru cabs I’d heard about the night before. A vastly better experience than that rickety yellow-and-black cabs – more like having a private car and driver – and only marginally more expensive. I had a long chat with the driver about the cab company, the week-long training for drivers that includes etiquitte training on how to treat passengers, the business model, and more. I kept the cab for about 2 hours, after which my fare was Rs. 220 or about $5. I was so impressed with the whole experience that I tried to tip the guy another Rs. 60 (a bit of an overtip, but he’d even run out into the rain to help me with something at one point) but he turned it down, saying it was unnecessary as I was a nice passenger and he had enjoyed chatting with me. You just can’t beat the service and the hospitality in India.

More soon!

An amazing day in Cinque Terre…

I am absolutely dying to write about my incredible day yesterday. It was my favorite day of the entire trip and just idyllic. But I can’t do it justice without pictures, because the views were half the pleasure. I’m working on getting pictures posted, but as a teaser let me just say that yesterday included:

Breakfast in a lemon grove; impulsive swimming; a hidden beach; bruschetta with Pesto (in the place they invented pesto), hundreds of feet of vertical ascent on steep, slippery, narrow steps; gelato; a delicious drink called caipirosco made with absolutely fresh lemons; a late-night stroll by the water hearing stories from locals about the history of Monterosso; mussels; and the best gnocci I have ever tasted.

I can’t wait to put up the pictures and recount  the whole day.

- Rohan

The Agony and The Ecstasy

I saw Michaelanglo’s gigantic statue of David at the Galleria dell’Accedemia this morning and  it did not disappoint. Cut from a slab of Carrera marble that other sculptors refused to work with because it was too long, too tricky, and too slender, it’s a breath-taking work that absolutely lives up to the hype and my expectations, even after having seen its replica in the Piazza della Signoria half a km away. Even aside from its cultural significance as the icon of a humanist Florence emerging from the Middle Ages, it’s just pretty awe-inspiring.

Which is great, because frankly, I was very let down by the Sistine Chapel. VERY let down.

Some background: One of my favorite books is Irving Stone’s amazing biography of Michaelangelo called ‘The Agony and The Ecstasy’. I’ve read it more than once over the years and it had a huge influence on me. Much of my faith in the power and possibility of human achievement come from that bo0k and a couple of others like it. I first read it at an age (probably 13 or 14) when I could look out on a future completely unconstrained in terms of my personal achievement. The book inspired me to think big, to believe one person can do incredible things, and to hold myself to a higher standard. In a sense, if a 24-year-old 15th Century sculptor could create the unbelievably stirring Pieta that sits near the entrance of St. Peter’s Basilica, then I must certainly have the power for great works in me as well.

The book talks in great depth about Michaelanglo’s work on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, so it is something I have wanted to see for a decade. In my mind, I saw a soaring, light-filled structure painted with powerful scenes from the Bible that could grab the soul of a poor agnostic like myself. Instead, the room was dark, constricted, airless. The entrance and exits were unremarkable – just doors leading to and from other rooms within the Vatican Museum. The crowds pushed and bumped into each other as they craned their necks or fought for a spot on the narrow plastic-covered marble ledge that rings the room. Probably the same experience faced by worshippers who came to the chapel to pray throughtout the ages. The stifling and dreary chapel were not Michaelangelo’s doing of course. This was simply the challenge and the opportunity before him.

But when I looked up, I saw unimpressive paintings of saints looking saintly, scenes from the Bible that looked closest to gaudy Bollywood movie posters, and a Last Judgment that looks like the work of someone who does not want to do the work (as in fact Michaelangelo did not) and who said, screw it, I’m just going to paint a bunch of people who are a) naked and b) doomed. Yes, the perspectives were impressive. Yes, some scenes (like God giving Man the Spark of Life) were quite stunning. Yes, the effort, the level of technical skill, and the in-depth understanding of the Bible that went into this work of art were incredible. The greatest work of art of all time? Not in my opinion. A really great work of art would have been able to overpower the depressing effect of the Chapel itself. This did not.

*

I was able to forgive Michaelangelo, however. (I’m sure he can finally rest in peace knowing that). I mentioned his Pieta briefly, but it bears dwelling upon. By the time I saw it, I had already spent almost three hours wandering through St. Peter’s square and the Basilica. My soul was humming from the grandeur and the spirituality of the Basilica and the piazza outside. (I’ll describe my impressions of St. Peter’s and Vatican City in a later post…they deserve the whole stage). So by the time I saw the Pieta, I had just seen some of the greatest works of art, sculpture, and architecture ever created. I might have passed by a lesser work thinking “meh, another religious scultpture”.

The pieta grabbed me with its quiet sorrow and its somehow simultaneous impression of heaviness and lightness. I could feel the weight of Christ’s body slipping from Mary’s grasp. I could feel her private grief. The whole sculpture evoked a sense of loss and confusion in me, not for the Christ of the Bible but for something more akin to the general human condition. “Why does it have to be like this? Couldn’t there have been another way?”

And then I saw Mary’s upturned left hand and it was as though the scultpure had reflected exactly what was in my mind, even though I know it was the other way around.

*

I’ve seen and loved a few other works by Michaelangelo on this trip. This morning I saw a collection of statues in the same room as the David that are amongst my favorites so far. The statues were left unfinished by Michaelangelo (some say he considered them finished) due to a commission that fell through. Scholars have named them The Prisoners or The Slaves. I found them to be extremely evocative, partly because of the weight of the stone entrapping the human figures, and partly for their revelation of chisel strokes and technique that had been described in such detail in The Agony and The Ecstasy.

*

A few last thoughts on this topic:

A decade -long desire to see Michaelangelo’s work was one of the driving forces behind this trip, something I didn’t fully realize until now.  In a way, it’s the fullfilment of an unspoken promise to 13-year-old Rohan that I would look after his life enough to make it to the (then distant-seeming) Florence and Rome. In fact, as I write this I realize that this whole trip has been a reaction to the strong current of ambition, responsibility, expectation, and self-expectation that has been dragging me forward. I think this is my way of re-taking control, of re-claiming the setting of priorities. I could have worked until a couple of weeks before school. I would have made more money and spared the significant expense of this trip. I could have spent more time with friends in Chicago. It would definitely have made packing and moving and all those things a lot easier. Instead, I chose to prioritize this trip over everything else. It’s an interesting realization…must ponder more.

Roaming Rohan in Roma!

(apologies for the lack of apostrophes. I cant find the key on this keyboard!)

Just arrived in Rome and waiting for my room to be ready. I took the overnight sleeper train from Interlaken via Spiez, which was an interesting experience that Ill describe in more detail later. Im running on fumes at the moment, having had only about 2 hours of sleep after a day of effectively being homeless (early checkout, late train). Lots to write about Interlaken, but just time for a brief overview now. It was a great glimpse into hostel life and something I definitely wish I had done when I was in college. The days were somewhat surreal…going from biking the gorgeous lake in the morning, to whitewater rafting in the late afternoon in class 5 rapids, to hitting up 2 for 1 happy hour at the hostel club with a revolving door of Americans, Aussies, New Zealanders.

Then on the second day – rain, rain, rain and gloom. A quiet and leisurely morning followed by an afternoon going up into the mountains to Murren in a series of smaller and smaller trains and one cable car. I was the only person under 50 in Murren, and I dont think I saw a single local. Incredible views, through slightly obscured by clouds. Then back for an evening of sitting in a cafe, waiting for a 10 pm train, and lo and behold, a quick little short story pops out, my first in years! Its most likely terrible, but it was a pleasant surprise to see the return of an old friend.

Ive been feeling somewhat…not melancholy, more like thoughtful. Its odd because the mood has persisted through sunshine and rain, and there was definitely a moment where I became lost in thought while going down the rapids in an inflatable raft. Life in Chicago has been terrific, but the last several months have been a bombardment of tasks and chores and to dos and urgent business. Visas, moving, b-school prep, miscellaneous side projects, vacation planning, work. My more thoughtful side definitely retreated from the battery of tasks. There were times I found myself just seeing everything as a set of tasks to get done – even things like parties or visits from friends. I was getting wound tighter and tighter. When everything is urgent, theres never time to ask the questions that need asking. Is this where I want to be? Is this what I want to be doing?

What does this have to do with this trip? Well, in the past few days, with the only real deadlines being train timings and checkout times, Ive started to feel myself start to bounce back a little bit. The cracks are starting to show in what had become hardened and locked in over the years. Hopefully this trip will help me become thoughtful again. Business school is going to be another bombardment of tasks. I need to find a way to maintain the parts of myself I like, like curiosity, general good humor, thoughtfulness, with the parts I need, drive, efficiency, relentlessness. I dont want to waste the incredible opportunity to grow as a person at school by just bouncing from checklist to checklist.

OK. My room as ready. Ciao.

- Rohan

Surfacing for air (and getting rained on)

Greetings from the Balmer’s Hostel in Interlaken! Today was the day I had planned to go to the summit of the Schilthorn, but it’s been pretty rainy all morning and the view is completely obscured by clouds. I’m a bit disappointed, but I’m going to go up to Murren and explore the countryside there. But while I wait for the rain to let up, a brief blogging interlude while I have free wi-fi and a place to plug in at the hostel.

…and having typed that last line, the wifi went out. And while I wait for the guy who powers the internet to get back on the bike, a quick complaint about my trackpad, which stops responding every 15 minutes or so and only comes back to life when I suspend the laptop and then log back in. I know a few of you have been asking how my new netbook is working out…awesome portability, incredible battery life, nice screen, usable keyboard, BUT a somewhat lousy trackpad (even aside from the non-responsiveness) with stiff buttons.

In other news, I’m finally starting to get the hang of formatting the blog using WordPress. Good news for you!

- Rohan

Hostel Balmer’s Herberge

Interlaken, Switzerland

Day 1 & Day 2 – The adventure begins!

The 8-hour flight from Chicago ORD to Paris Charles de Gaulle felt pretty short, compared to the marathon 24-hour journeys back to Bombay during college. I’d been offered the chance at the gate to trade an aisle seat for a window to accommodate a group traveling together, which I took immediately, only to find out as the lights dimmed mid-flight that none of the electronics at my seat were working. No in-flight movie, no reading light, and no other seats available. I was a bit ticked off at how flippantly the flight attendant told me I had no options…but she brought around a free Chardonnay “from business class” with dinner along with a voucher from United that promised me “my choice of gift” to make up for the inconvenience. Having been on the receiving end of a United Airlines apology before, I’m not rushing to claim whatever free United Airlines hat or $3 flight credit they have on offer. Oh, and they charge $6 for drinks in Economy on International flights now…that’s a new one for me.

Immigration was a breeze, as was baggage claim. I grabbed my (41 pound) backpack and caught the regional train (RER) to Gare du Nord. I got ample opportunities to practice saying (and hearing) “Pardon” and “Excusez-moi”. The local was more crowded than I’ve ever seen the Chicago El, even at rush hour, this was 11 a.m. on a Tuesday. The preferred method of boarding was to launch yourself off the platform into the packed compartment, elbows and “Pardon!’ flying every which way. An argument amongst 5-6 people broke out at one point, which I was sadly unable to follow in nuance, but the general spirit of which was “Where the hell can I go, there’s no more space here, why don’t you move your fat behind?” Great entertainment overall, albeit with a few bruises.

After a brief walk from Gare du Nord to Gare l’Est, during which I was accosted, followed, and then cursed at soundly by an old crone who wanted money (I did not oblige), I treated myself to my first Parisian meal, a pretty basic but delicious ham and cheese sandwich. My exceedingly limited French proved adequate and was largely understood sans l’Anglais. I was armed with my well-meaning-foreigner smile (dusted off from my early days in the U.S.) and that seemed to go a long way, both then and during the trip since.

I’ve wanted to take a ride on Train à Grande Vitesse, that is, a TGV ever since I heard about it as a child. The trip did not disappoint – a smooth, high speed ride through rolling green farmlands and stops at Strasbourg, Colmar, Mulhouse, and Basel. Actually, a little too high speed and smooth. This was hour 21 – 24 since I woke up in Chicago and I had to struggle to stay awake. I dozed off at one point and woke up to find three serious-looking border-control agents asking to see my passport. One of them proceeded to give my passport the most thorough inspection it has ever received in my many, many border checks around the world. He examined it from every direction, inspected it through a special magnifying glass that had it’s own holster on his belt, and looked at every page twice. Meanwhile, the other two agents were staring intently at my face as I watched the inspection. It’s a learned skill to look casually unconcerned, yet helpful and interested when being scrutinized by three uniformed men with the power to eject you from a country, no matter how innocent you are of any crimes.

Speaking of lessons, I’ve learned that 1.5 km is “very close” in theory, but “pretty damn far” when you’re carrying 48 lbs of gear. The walk from the station to the Hotel Rothaus was a shlep. I’m going to try to take the bus back to the station later today, hopefully stash my bag in a locker during my stopover in Lucerne, and then find a bus to the hostel in Interlaken.

Well that’s it from me for now. Breakfast is over at this Cafe and they’re laying out the ashtrays in preparation for the lunch crowd. This was a longer post than I expected! In my next post, I’ll talk about my enjoyable and relaxing evening walking around Zurich and I’ll have a few photos to post as well.

Cheers!

Rohan

The Hotel Rothaus cafe

Zurich

Raison d’etre

I’ve been roaming a lot over the past few years – Caracas, Montreal, Edinburgh, Dubai, and two dozen other cities in the U.S. and abroad – but I haven’t really kept a journal of my travels. As a result, despite the photos I’ve taken, I’m starting to forget the sights, sounds, and feel of the places I visited.

Like most travel writing, this journal is intended to record not only the details of my travels, but also my thoughts and observations as I encounter places and people around the world.

To kick off: a six week, medium budget, occasionally solo, sorta-backpacking roam through Switzerland, Italy, Vatican City, Spain, France, India, and the United Arab Emirates!

9 days and counting…

- Rohan