Archive for USA

Of fire escapes and fiery escapes

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It is not in every city in the world that you can fall in love looking at a fire escape. Of course, there has been much debate about whether fire escapes are actually emergency exits or romantic balconies. Maybe the use of a fire escape in ‘West Side Story’, inspired by William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet resulted in this. Who knows?

I was in New York last week on business. I don’t know where the energy came from, but I landed up spending close to 66 hours awake out of the 72 I was there for. It’s definitely the city that burns with spirit. It is infectious and for someone who is already hyperactive, it is a drug. I won’t go on and on about Manhattan’s dizzy effect, the psychedelic billboards on Time Square, the never ending nightlife (even during the day I suppose) and the energy that comes with New York. It was a work trip after all, where did I have the time for that?

In between all the work, I took time out to escape just for one thing. A tour of the city’s fire escapes. I noticed it for the first time when I was walking back to my hotel at 4 am, after one of those spontaneous nights. If I get around to that story, it will take me a few blog posts. Let’s just say I landed up meeting someone who is supposedly family after a few years of Facebook messaging, in New York, only to discover that every crazy thing I’ve done traveling is nothing compared to his adventures. We discovered that we never met before because we probably avoided all the family get-togethers where there was a possible chance of meeting.  Someone I am so glad to have met, even if it was for a few cocktails and a greasy breakfast and I am certain I am likely to meet in some unsafe corner of the world in the future. I am pretty undecided on whether to call him family as there can only be one black sheep per family and I’ve taken that spot.

Anyway, from the fiery escape to the fire escape, here is a snippet from the New York Times on Fire escapes and my iPhonography discovering them.

Officially, of course, the urban fire escape is primarily an emergency exit, but in New York, this prosaic adornment of countless five- and six-story apartment houses has assumed myriad other functions: faux backyards, platforms for criminal getaways, oases for marginalized smokers and makeshift bedrooms popular during an age before air-conditioning. And they are often visual knockouts, too. Strikingly designed fire escapes have complemented some of the city’s grandest structures, like the Puck Building on Lafayette Street, and enhanced even the dreariest structures.

First built in New York well over a century ago, mandated by the 1867 tenement law, fire escapes soon became a canvas for the virtuosity of local foundry workers, including recently arrived European immigrants. Throughout the city, these artisans created ornate objets d’art constructed and molded from wrought and cast iron. The designs that resulted present a decorative smorgasbord, and include such rich details as arabesques, filigree lacework and rosettes.

Aesthetics, though, are only skin deep. In the case of the Lower East Side in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the fire escape ornamentation on scores of tenement blocks hardly masked the poverty within. Notable photographers like Weegee took pictures of fire escapes to help demonstrate both the hurly-burly and inhumanity of immigrant life. Even the film version of the musical “West Side Story,” a retelling of “Romeo and Juliet” in Hell’s Kitchen, substituted a fire escape on a cheerless tenement for the Shakespearean balcony in the famous love scene.

Although many of the fire escapes built during New York’s second wave of immigration still exist, these well-worn structures have been lamentably overlooked. Even the venerable Encyclopedia of New York City neglects to give them a separate entry. Perhaps it’s time for New Yorkers to give these old cultural symbols a second look.

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t know if New Yorkers want to give this a second look, but I’m surely headed back to New York for another look.

Anthropomorphic image of Mumbai – Figure this one out!

I’m reading this book by John Malathronas. – Brazil – Life, Blood & Soul. No guesses why I would buy a book with Brazil on the title. Anyway, within the first chapter itself, I find myself closing the book and getting into a very deep thinking exercise. John says ‘every city has an anthropomorphic image’. Firstly, I had to go and look up anthropomorphic. Wikipedia – Thank you! Anthropomorphism is a term coined in the mid 1700s to refer to any attribution of human characteristics (or characteristics assumed to belong only to humans) to non-human animals or non-living things, phenomena, material states and objects or abstract concepts, such as god(s). I guess the definition really doesn’t matter. The author has written statements about 4 cities – London, New York, Paris and Rio. Here they are –

London is a City gent in a striped double-breasted suit, holding his chin up as he rushes by without an umbrella in spitting rain.

New York is a loudmouthed, overweight baseball fan, cap and all, who pushes you away from the salt beef deli queue as you fumble for your change.

Paris is a chic grand-dame, ex-model, ex-actress, her make-up dextrously applied, who walks her Pekinese in the Jardin de Luxembourg.

And Rio is a calliphygian (refers to shapely buttocks) copper-coloured beauty, as naked as Eve, dancing in stiletto shoes to the blast of beating drums.

All this got me thinking. Just got me thinking about what is Mumbai’s line. And, I wrote this on the tube ride back home. And, I’m not very happy with it.

To me, Mumbai is the Rickshaw driver who tells you his life story and is certain that he is going to make it big. Mumbai is also the Taxi driver who refuses to take you a short distance. Mumbai is the lady who worries about whether her son would complain about the cauliflower she plans to cook that night, the one that she chops as she is riding the local train back home, after a long day at work. Mumbai is also the bunch of rich women, who spend more time on manicures and designer shopping than with their kids. Mumbai is the dancer who doesn’t want to give up her dreams of Bollywood. Mumbai is also a group of 19 year olds who sneak into a club, drink and smoke and spend more money than what a Bollywood extra dancer would make the entire month. Mumbai is the serious business graduate in a pin-striped shirt, burning the midnight oil trying to make his variable pay. Mumbai is also the lucky son, who inherited his dad’s business, without knowing much about it. Mumbai is the young college graduate, who is working on his American accent to answer customer service calls from God knows where. Mumbai is also the lost artist, who blends into galleries even better than the champagne glasses. Mumbai is the girl who runs away from home, because her parents want her to marry someone she can’t imagine even spending 5 minutes with. Mumbai is the crazy lover, who would marry the guy and then find a boyfriend. Mumbai is the helpful uncle, who gives you directions, when you are completely lost in a new city. Mumbai is the painful shopkeeper who refuses to budge from his original price, when you pride yourself on bargaining. Mumbai is the kid who never gets tired, rain or sunshine, selling books in the traffic signal and making just enough money to afford one meal. Mumbai is everything and nothing.

If you can think of what could be Mumbai’s line, let me know. If you have a picture for Mumbai, send it to me. I’ll just keep adding it here and hopefully, I’ll get back to finishing that book.

Around the world in many Cups

People are clearly coffee people or tea people. Just like you find Dog people or Cat people. Just last week, a good friend of mine made a remark about how I had changed in 2 years. Apparently, when he met me 2 years ago, I would drink nothing but black coffee. Agree. About a year ago, I was overworked and I would drink nothing but Red Bull. Partly agree. Recently, he mentioned that my preference has changed to tea. Disagree. All this hype about Coffee, Tea and Red Bull, I decided to think about my life, my travels and really figure out who I am. So, here are plenty of coffee moments, some tea moments and many life lessons.

Nothing inspires me to write more than coffee – Coffee has been the savior. When I blog. When I write in my travel diary. More than anything, when I had to write innumerable mails at work. When I had to especially frame politically correct emails. When I had to apply for a job. When I had to write my resignation. You get the drift. (Infact, right now, that’s what I’m drinking)

Starbucks should not even be your last resort – If you are anywhere near North America, they sell you brown liquid in the name of Starbucks Coffee. I detest Starbucks. I avoid it all costs. Whoever came up with Tall, Grande and whatever? I know Americans like everything ‘supersize’ but it is ridiculous making anyone drink that amount of bad coffee. (I know my sister is probably going to kill me for this, but to save humanity from bad coffee, I had to write this). If they worry so much about the coffee farmers and so on and so forth (as it reads in their promotional material in store), they would stop spending so much money on real estate and give it back to society.

The best coffee can be brewed with socks – Honest to God. In Brazil, they have this coffee maker called a Cuador, which is nothing but a sock like cloth attached to a metal ring and handle. You put the coffee powder in this and Voila, you have a hot cup of awesome coffee. This makes a fabulous travel companion. All you need to do is buy the local coffee from a supermarket and boil water and you can make your own coffee, about 10 times cheaper than drinking coffee outside. If you do not get a cuador, fresh clean ankle socks works.

Meet the people behind the scenes and hear the coffee stories – Whether it is in the Guatemalan coffee farms or the Bali coffee estates, you’ll find coffee farmers to be warm and loving and ready to make the 100th cup of the day just to share with you. I remember sitting and chatting with this lady who was roasting the ‘Luwak’ beans in Bali and telling me the history of coffee. Known as Kopi Luwak, it is among the most expensive coffee in the world. The process of making this coffee will disgust you – they make the little Asian Palm Civet’s eat the berries and excrete the same. Then, the beans having gone through the intestines and out, are separated, cleaned and roasted and so on and so forth, till the most amazing coffee is made.

Sometimes, the only thing that can get you through bad coffee is good company – I love black coffee. Hanging around a bus station in Brazil with a friend, I was deeply disappointed to find only coffee chains with milky coffee and not the usual Cafezinho (small black coffee). Remember cribbing a lot. Then, the adaptable calm friend of mine picked up the coffee and literally thrust it on my face. One coffee slap was good to get me slurping out of the cup. And surprisingly, I enjoyed it as she cracked jokes about bus stations, travel, losing weight and all that. So, it is true. Bad Coffee + Good Company = Great memories.

The one thing on top of my sightseeing list in every city is the oldest café – Whether it is Café Sperl in Vienna or Café Tortoni in Buenos Aires, it was top priority for me to visit these cafes. All the museums and palaces of the world came next. Old world charm, black and white photographs, the history adds to the nostalgia.  Imagine sitting in the room where the King of Spain sipped coffee. I’ve landed up spending a bomb across such cafes but you never think money when you think coffee. These are far stronger memories than seeing a hundred paintings in a museum and not remembering one.

When in trouble, find an Illy - For those who take their black coffee seriously, visiting a new country and not finding the perfect blend can be worrisome. I’ve had terrible terrible coffee in Malaysia, North India and Egypt. A wise woman I met in Mexico told me that the easiest way to find good coffee in a country is to find the Italian Embassy or Italian Cultural Centre and hope they have a cafeteria. Illy rocks. (Now, I can’t help but remember the day my Italian neighbour in Chennai taught me how to make an Italian espresso – Read more here)

Never make the mistake of ordering coffee in Tea land – Was in Egypt last year and craving for coffee one day. Made the terrible mistake of ordering a coffee in the old markets of Cairo. With tons of Elachi and a terrible fragrance, one sip made me cry out Allah. I had the impression it would be close to Turkish coffee or Arabic coffee, dark and strong. Had no idea it came with spices. Prompty, I switched to Tea. It is not about the drink at all. It is about lounging around in a Sheesha place with a glass of tea for hours.

When you in the wilderness, coffee or tea, have it hot – After a long day bushwhacking or trekking or hiking or whatever you do in the wild, the only thing I yearn for is a hot cup of whatever. (This is obviously second to a cold beer, but I generally don’t carry a mini fridge when I go hiking). So, for a change, its not about coffee or not about tea but about hot water. As the kettle gently sways over the camp fire, you have this warm feeling within you that doesn’t go away. (Tried and tested in many places around the world – Special moment was in Swansea in Wales and Smoky Mountains in the USA).

While coffee goes with backpacking, tea goes with luxury – Unless you are backpacking in the Middle East or roughing it out in a guesthouse in Varanasi, I would suggest the best companion to backpacking is coffee. Anyway, coming back to tea, why tea and luxury? Recently, I was invited to a Champagne Afternoon Tea at the Dorchester hotel in London. No, I’m not kidding. With scones and jam, champagne and perfect little sandwiches, they served a whole bunch of us tea in fine china. I was so worried I was going to knock down something or break something. It was like being in the Titanic, with all the cutlery. Rated as one of the best Tea experiences in all of Britain, this was something way out of my league. (Ok.. someone else was paying.. Haha) Anyway, I’m not bad at role playing. I promptly held the cup like most of them do, with the little pinkie finger sticking out, pursed my lips and slurped away. And, I felt like the perfect lady when the waiter actually asked me, ‘Would you like some more teaaaaa?’. And, that is the London experience I worry about.

Saving the best for last, nothing beats South Indian Filter coffee – Yes, I’m that South Indian girl who grew up drinking filter coffee from a tumbler. So, now you know why the obsession to find coffee everywhere I go. This was just a few moments before my wedding (early in the morning), drinking a strong cup of filter coffee, freshly brewed at home. (My aunt was hyperventilating that I would spill the coffee on my Sari, but I managed). I absolutely needed to clear my head before taking that big step towards marriage. Like I said, nothing beats South Indian Filter coffee.

So, brought up in coffee land (South India) and obsessed with coffee land (Brazil), moving to tea land (Britain) is a bit of a worry. Especially after I read this quote. “Coffee in England always tastes like a chemistry experiment.” – Agatha Christie

And, such is life. No fear. What lays ahead is a path of discovery. I cannot wait to begin my coffee crawl of London and add to these stories here.

Bombay London New York – Crazy Cabs!

My recent trip to London helped me complete the full circle in terms of cabs. If you manage to take the cab in the three most craziest cities of the world – Mumbai, New York and London, you have as good as seen the eigth wonder of the world.

Whether it is the yellow cabs of New York or the black cabs of London or the black & yellow taxis of Mumbai, they all have one thing in common. Have you heard of the third cousin in the family who always demands meals at expensive restaurants and never knows where those restaurants are how to get there. Well, these cabs are somewhat close to them. If the last person you want to meet is that particular third cousin, the last thing you want to take is the taxi. Why? I have a different reason for each city and here they are.

Whizzing yellow cabs of New York and 2 top reasons why I don’t like taking them -

1. New York’s Yellow Cabs are yellow because John Hertz, the company’s founder, learned from a study that yellow was the easiest color for the eye to spot. He was right. Of course, they are easy to spot. But, try spotting a yellow taxi that is empty. That is the key. The taxi has to be empty.

2. New York city subway is a little more 100 years old and I love all things ancient and efficient.

Kaali – Peeli of Mumbai & Top 2 reasons why I don’t like taking them –

1. Bustling morning and you will find an entire queue of taxis on your street corner. Guess what, there won’t be a single guy in the taxi though. All of them would be standing next to the nearest panwallah or sitting around playing cards. Without the slightest hesitation, they would ask you where you want to go. However, if you give them any destination short of 1.5 hours, they would turn a blind eye to you and continue indulging in their lazy lifestyles. I wonder how they even make money to sponsor all the Gutka.

2. If the guy finally decides to move his butt and drive you anywhere, he will honk and honk and honk and give you a migraine early in the morning.

Finally, the deadly Black cabs of London and why I don’t like taking them –

1. Have you heard of ‘The Knowledge’. It is the in-depth study of a number of pre-set London street routes and places of interest that cab drivers in that city must complete to obtain a license to operate a black cab. It is the world’s most demanding training course for taxicab-drivers, and applicants will usually need at least twelve ‘appearances’ (attempts at the final test), after preparation averaging 34 months, to pass the examination. Jesus – It is more difficult that taking the IIT and IIM examination back to back. So, coming to the reason why I don’t want to take a London cab, it is primarily because I know that the guy driving me around probably has an IQ of a genius. The sooner he goes out of business, the sooner he would find his calling.

2. Prince Philip (husband of Queen Elizabeth II) drives a London cab, when he can afford just about any other car in the world. Other celebrities are known to use London cabs too for their anonymity and their ruggedness/manoeuvrability in London traffic.  That worries me. There would be one more cab in London that would be occupied and not ready to ply passengers. And just in case he does decide to pick up passengers, I worry about being driven around by a 90 year old man.

If all the reasons above have taught you social lessons about not honking, not chewing gutka, not adding to the traffic volume of the city and more than anything, not taking a freaking cab when there are cheaper and quicker options like the trains, subways, tubes, metros or whatever you want to call, I have succeeded in my mission.

For the best public transport, look up the following sites -

1. Transport for London

2. Metropolitan Transport Authority – New York

3. Mumbai – Contact the Ninja!

Traveling Toilet Trauma

Lately, I have been getting a lot of mails from Women travelers asking me for travel tips. The questions have ranged from – Is it safe to take overnight bus journeys alone? Do you think its ok to stay in a Dorm in a Backpacker hostel or will you meet wierdos? How do you carry your money? I’ve been able to give confident advice on everything except one question. I should say I’ve been stumped when it comes to the most popular question. So, what are we talking about here – “How do you manage with toilets?”. “How did you manage peeing in the open?” kind of questions.

Simply put, women are shit scared when it comes to this particular topic while traveling. No pun intended on shit. So, to give confidence to all women travelers about traveling and the toilet experience, I’d like to share 3 of my travel toilet memories here.

The Rio De Janeiro Pee in Public experience - It was February 2009 and I spent my first Brazilian Carnival in the streets of Rio. Rio Carnival is not just known for the almost naked Samba dancers parade. It is known for the street parties or “Blocos da ruas”. With a party in every corner and bands leading mad costume parades through every street in Rio, you can say I lived on the streets for almost a week. Spending days and nights in the streets, wearing ridiculous costumes, drinking beer and dancing was the order of the day. All the beer drinking just leads to one outcome – what goes in needs to come out. With all the bars overflowing with people, overused toilets, peeing in restaurants / bars was just not an option (And I hate hovering over dirty toilets). Going all the way home to pee was just plain stupid. With no choice but to pee in the streets of Rio, I joined the crazy Brazilians and learnt the art of peeing in public. Introducing miracle product ‘Xixi Feliz’ – which means ‘Happy Pee’. It is a paper funnel, made out of 300 GSM art card and printed in 2 colour. Given away by this wonderful lady (who happens to be the mother of my dear friend Lola) in exchange for free beer, this product came to the rescue of most women in the streets of Rio. It even has simple instructions on how to place it between your legs and pee standing up. Well… I did it!

Only one advice – If you are slightly shy, just drink enough beer and get high.

Street Parties in Rio …

The more ridiculous the costume, the easier it is to blend in….

Xixi Feliz crew..  Lola’s mom, Thiago and Lola

Check out these Videos on how Xixi Feliz works -


Its 2 years since this experience and now, there are  experts on this topic on the internet. Check out Stand2Pee, run by Stacy Kwan, who is the expert on standing and peeing. She even has an instructional DVD on this.

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