North Spain / France Day 2: San Sebastian – Biarritz – Bilbao

North Spain / France Day 2: San Sebastian – Biarritz – Bilbao

Day 2 of our trip started with a few showers and a walk along the Bay of Biscay and the La Concha. It was amazing to see the waves crashing against the peculiarly shaped rocks along the coast. We then walked through a flower market, a vegetable market and visited a bakery where the sizes and shapes of the breads amazed me. Among the main attractions was the Santa Maria Basilica, with a huge statue of Jesus with several arrows pierced into his body (see pic). Another feature which I saw in various places in Spain was that streets in hilly areas sometimes ended in a flight of stairs (see pic)! The entrance to the Santa Monica was spectacular, with several sculptures of babies, and faces of children and a statue of Mary (see pic).

Directly opposite to the Basilica, several streets away into the newer part of the city was the San Sebastian Cathedral. From the distance, it looked as if the church was under restoration. Upon approaching it, I realized that the architecture was peculiar – the spire of the church was made of a mesh (see pic).

We then left for Biarritz, a small French coastal town near Bayonne, east of San Sebastian. We took a smaller highway to avoid the toll, and we saw on one side the beautiful coast of the Bay of Biscay and on the other side, the Pyrenees, which forms a natural border between the two countries. The road winded up and down the slopes of the Pyrenees and the town Biarritz, which would probably exhibit a very lively atmosphere in summer wore a deserted look.

We then drove to our next destination further west of San Sebastian – Bilbao. This town was similar to San Sebastian in many ways. However, the main reason for our visit was to see the Gugenheim Museum, famous for its modern architectural beauty. The streets of the old city of Bilbao were filled with people eating, drinking and making merry, watching the football match with enthusiasm… well, enthusiasm is a gross understatement. The town seemed completely alive and ‘kicking’ well after midnight!

North Spain - Day 1: Zaragosa, San Sebastian

North Spain – Day 1:

Two green Renault Megane’s, an endorsement on the rental slip that I could drive with my Singapore license, and we were off – 8 of us, mostly exchange students, to North Spain. For probably the first time ever, I dint even know how to pronounce the names of the towns we planned to visit over the next two or even three days. For the first time ever definitely, none of us in the car knew exactly where we were going to halt for the night, and in which hotel. For the first time ever, we did not even know if we might be in the same country the next day! All the same it was a trip I was looking forward to… why I don’t know even today!

Our first halt was Zaragosa, a beautiful town along the river Ebro. Across the bridge from the road leading to the city, we could see the magnificent Basilica of Our Lady, and behind that, the city, which was also called Saragossa, the capital of the Aragon community of Spain. Spain, although a single country, has several internal divisions among its people such as the Catalans, the Aragons, the Basques, etc. The Basilica was a classic example of the Mudejar architecture of the Aragons, a world heritage site. A short walk into the Basilica revealed a design, which I later realized I would be seeing repeatedly in several churches and cathedrals across Spain. There was a central altar, with a hall for conducting mass, with huge ceilings, with either sculptures or paintings or painted glass windows.

Our four-hour drive to San Sebastian proved to be a very interesting one. There was a hill, atop which a huge black hoarding of a bull attracted our attention from more than a kilometer away. For miles and miles thereafter, there were hills with a huge number of windmills for as far as the eye could see. As we got closer to San Sebastian after dusk, the roads got narrow and windy and we drove through several long tunnels before we reached the Basque town, the capital city of the Gipuzkoa province, also known as Donostia. San Sebastian, on the river Urumea, is a coastal town on the northern coast of Spain south of the Bay of Biscay between Spain and the British Isles. The La Concha’s bay and beach soon gave way to a small pier and the Urgull hill, atop which stood a giant statue of Jesus, as if overlooking the bay and the town.

Exploration for a restaurant took us through Parte Vieja, or the ‘old city’, which I later realized was another common feature of any Spanish town with a long history. The old city area of any town is essentially a labyrinth of streets with no specific pattern. It is very easy to get lost in these streets even with a good map. The labyrinths could have several ‘plaça’s in them. A plaça is a square area from which several streets could branch off. The square area would house several bars and restaurants, and have a central pillar with a sculpture, a statue, a church or a cathedral.

to be contd...

The Rich Beggar

Whoever said that going back to Business school means revamping your thoughts and assumptions was absolutely right. This blog comes after a rapid-fire Financial Accounting class and may hence be infested with uncomprehendable jargon and concepts that come free with every purchase of a Financial Accounting course asset.

So every time I learnt a new concept in this class, I was supposed to debit my "brain" account and credit the "lecturer" account. And every time I indulged in Arbit CP or arbitrary class participation, I credited my "mouth" account and debited the "class" account. However there is nothing positive or negative about debiting and crediting the accounts, as one may have thought thus far. Debiting the brain account may turn out to be a negative since it could get you completely confused. And debiting the class account could invoke the wrath of the people surrounding you if the account is debited with Arbit CP.

Blame it on the banks! No Im talking about the financial crisis for a change. Im talking about the jargon that we have gotten used to since time immemorial, all due to our transactions at the bank. We have been accustomed to the fact that our account will be debited when the bank is taking out money. Whenever Dad transferred money to my account when I was studying, he used to ask me "has the money been credited?". So all we thought was crediting one's account means blessing it with money, while debiting it means stripping it off to some extent. All the same, in the Accounting class, we were made to "un-learn", all in the name of management jargon, what we already knew about debit and credit.

Some were highly intrigued by the concept. Debit and credit are probably the most English-sounding words in Accounting, as compared to words like assets, liabilities, accruals, equity, receivables, etc. And just when you thought that your twenty years' knowledge of the English language was probably the only pre-requisite you had while taking up an Accounting course, that tower of knowledge started leaning like the Qutb Minar. And once you heard the definition of debit and credit in Accounting parlance, the tower just collapsed.

Of course, at the end of the day, it is just a question of practice and working out more and more balance sheets, which most of my accounting friends claim never balance. After a couple of weeks of accounting, I would probably and hopefully be able to rattle off more concepts like "debit what comes in and credit what goes out". But until then I am going to be confusing my friends saying "the sun just rose in the west" or "i climbed down to the second floor from the ground floor".

The Rich Beggar

Forgetting Savage Civilization...

The time was 5 am. The street leading to the Main Guard Gate, usually bustling with activity - vendors selling everything from flowers and garlands to clothes and electronic appliances - was for the first time deserted and devoid of all activity. The distant signboard "Singapore Plaza" reminded me of Singapore's very own busy shopping mall Plaza Singapura - a sprawling 7-storeyed shopping complex, full of eating houses, expensive branded-item shops (where the only type of shopping we did was the type that had Microsoft's famous invention for a prefix), a cineplex and a supermarket, with a train station at its basement. However, the Singapore Plaza in question was basically a row of street shops, each shop large enough just for a row of ten cordless telephone sets (most probably purchased in Singapore for 80% of their current price or less) and a 2-ft square area where the shop owner sat on a cushion - shouting his deals all day to attract the passers-by. But the earliest bird among these birds (pun intended) was probably still at home brushing his teeth with a healthy twig from the nearest banyan tree.

As our car took a turn, the graceful Rock-Fort came into view - the new golden 'vimaanam' glittering in the night lights for the final hour before dawn. The symbol of Trichurapalli or Trichy, the Rock-Fort somehow demanded respect and gave the kind of feeling that Lord Vinayaka was overseeing everything that happened in this South Indian town. As we drove out of Trichy northward along the bridge on the river Kaveri, the spire of the Srirangam temple rose majestically in the distance in the middle of the lush folliage on the island formed due to the splitting and rejoining of the river into Kaveri and Coleroon or Kollidam. To my knowledge, I have never seen water in Kollidam. But Kaveri used to have water to its brim and the speed of its flow always frightened me as a kid. Today the river was but a solitary stream of water a few feet wide, with sufficient water for the washermen to wash clothes. The rest of the river bed was bare, waiting only for the lorries to pick up loads of sand as illegal construction material.

The Ayyan Vaaikaal is a creek off the mainstream Kaveri and flows for more than twenty kilometers in the area North-west of Trichy and is one of the three branches at the Melanai (The Upper Anaikut dam) at the Mukombu (Three branches). A State Highway has been laid along the river, closely following the bends of the river. Drivers who prefer driving on straighter roads would curse this design. But it only adds to the beauty of this eastward road - on one side the meandering stream, and beyond it, the broadest section of the Kaveri river; on the other side: lush green fields of paddy and sugarcane stretching as far as the eye can perceive; and at every third bend, a small temple dedicated to one of the many local deities.

A by-lane into what looks like a banana plantation brought us to our native village - Amoor. We were here for the Balaalayam, or the initiation of the renovation and the Kumbabishegam, of the temple of our family deity - Goddess Angalamman. "Bala alayam" literally means "small temple". The aim of the Balalayam was to ceremoniously transfer the power from the main spire atop the sanctum sanctorum(s) to a smaller replica or painting of the spire, after invoking the blessings or in other words obtaining official permission from the presiding deities to proceed with the renovations. Its amazing how the most complicated of rituals and ceremonies usually have the simplest of meanings.



The Shivaachariyaar, the main priest conducting the ceremonies of the day, seemed to have the same energy and lustre since the last time he conducted the Kumbabishegam at our temple twelve years ago. He and his four assistants kick started the ceremony with the Poornaahuti which means "complete offering" and is meant to symbolize the integration of all our abilities into a particular activity with unified dedication.. The 'aahuti' or the offering contained a dry coconut with nine types of grains and coins all tied in a piece of cloth and was offered to the fire with ghee while chanting Vedic manthras. "Pledging the dedication of every member in a team is the first step in any project.", the Shivaachariyaar explained. Coming to think of it, this simple one liner could be applied to any field as the underlying principle for success.

The Shivaachariyaar moved on to the next ritual which I call the 'Transfer of Power' - the main purpose of the Balalayam. The 'kudam's or the holy pots with water were first consecrated and the 'abhishegam' was done on replicas of the 3 temple towers of the 3 main deities with towers. Apart from these three main deities, there are 4 other deities with colored statuettes and no towers - all the Goddesses incarnations of Goddess Paarvathi and the Gods incarnations of Lord Shiva - all local Protector Gods with fiery eyes and wielding huge swords, one of them is even shown devouring the flesh of a probable demon defaulter. The transfer of power for the deities without a tower was done onto 4 miniature paintings quickly drawn by the chief construction engineer or the 'Stapathi'. The Transfer of Power complete, the Stapathi, followed by a few of us, gently hammered one side of the tower with a sword - symbolizing the official launch of the renovations and painting work for the temple.

One of the best parts of these traditions apart from the divinity of the actual rituals, is... you guessed it right - the Food! Sadly it usually comes at the very end. But the spread is usually something to look forward to. This time too, we were not disappointed. The two cheerful cooks ensured we ate till we dropped. Our street housed the upper-middle class of the village population. Unlike the condominiums or bangalows of the crowded cities which somehow have an element of egotistic pride attached to them, these old-fashioned mud-and-stone houses interspersed with some more modern concrete houses, had an unassuming appeal about them. As we walked past, our neighbor allowed us to take a couple of drumsticks from her tree. I initially struggled with the long stick which had a hook at one end, much to the amusement of the villagers. I couldnt do much until one of them actually taught me the art. Once I knew how to do it, we decided to rid the tree of the burden of carrying so many drumsticks and brought home whatever we could.

A huge mirror in the hall of the house we stayed in, had not too long ago been shattered to pieces, thanks to the bunch of termites who had happily made a mid-day meal out of the mirror's decades-old hook. But for these occasional signs of deterioration, more due to the neglect of the owner than anything else, the house was comfortable. It had a superb ventilation system, no mosquitoes, and a brilliant old-fashioned feel about it. Somehow the entire setting, of the Kaveri, the fields and the rustic scenes made me feel I was in some other world - much more beautiful, much more peaceful and far far away from the hustle and bustle of savage civilization...

The Negative Optimist

Ghar aaja pardesi tera des bulaye re!!

After having spent eight years abroad, I am back in my hometown, for (at least what seems like) good. Although I have lived here for more than fifteen years before I left for Singapore, Chennai today seems to be an entirely different animal. Spending a couple weeks here on holiday is completely different from returning here wondering if this is probably the place I am going to be working the rest of my life. And having resigned, in a downturn, from a company doing considerably well, with my boss begging me to stay, to take up an entirely new career path in a country where I have never 'worked' before - I feel clueless! Indeed I did not make these decisions overnight - to return to India has always been my eventual plan. I had even made a wager with one of my former colleages when I was 21 that ten years hence I would be settled in India. Yet, perhaps one could say as always, the reality about taking a decision to relocate never hits you fully until you have actually relocated.

Take a drive on Chennai roads at 8 pm, and you will agree that chaos is an understatement. Having spent eight years in Singapore where even an ambulance carrying a dying patient would stop at a red traffic light for several critical minutes, I was shocked to see a full-sized SUV overtake me on the left and turn right into a crowded road at top speed, all after the signal had turned red! Talking about these "gas-guzzlers" or SUVs - a concept that was first promoted with vested interests by both the oil and car companies in the then burgeoning American economy - I have fundamental doubts as to why they should even be so popular in India, despite being expensive, low on mileage and bulky on the narrow city roads. Rewinding just a few hours before that SUV zoomed by, however, we had driven over 300 kilometers averaging a speed of almost a hundred kmph on what I felt was an unprecedented stretch of Indian highway. The amazing road quality, beautiful landscaping and the neat exits to smaller towns with white-on-green signboards gave the NH45 a true feel of an international expressway.

As much as one may site these SUVs and expressways as proofs of India's economic development, one cannot hide from the fact that poverty is still rampant even in the metropolis. I took a train journey along the recently developed Mass Rapid Transit System, which has been laid almost completely alongside a meandering sewer which bears little semblance to what it was once upon a time - a river. The Buckingham Canal, with no correlation whatsoever to the royality except for its name, is now the slushy backyard of some of the poorest slums of the city. Even there however, some of the thatched huts have given way to small concrete box houses with electricity - I could even see computers in some houses.

There are basically two aspects in this blog about the entire relocating exercise. First, about India's development, I have always been raised in the school of thought that Indians are best at reaching their high goals amidst complete confusion - whether its the economy developing despite the country's politicians or simply reaching home on roads where not following rules is the only rule. Of course to this chaos, there are both silent spectators and loud complainers, both within and outside the country. There is yet a third category of forward-thinking optimists who want to do their bit to be an active part of India's development - whether it is converting those congested roads to 6-lane expressways or converting the thatched huts to concrete houses with computers. It may be true that India still has its share of poverty, pollution, red-tapeism and that certain aspects of daily life are not as streamlined as in certain other countries. But driving on NH-45 certainly enhanced my optimism.

Second, about relocation in general, it is the perception and mindset that matters. I feel it is a question of whether one considers the glass of water to be half-empty or half-full. Socrates once encountered a man entering Athens, who wanted to know more about the city and its people. The great philosopher asked him in turn about the city the man came from. The man replied that it was a horrible place filled with cruel people, hence his decision to move out of there in search of greener pastures. Socrates replied "Athens is no different" and the man ran away. Another man came to him with a similar question about Athens. But when Socrates asked him about the city he came from, his answer was different..."the city I come from is beautiful and the people there are wonderful." To this too, Socrates replied: "Athens is no different!"

The Negative Optimist

The Consistent Irregular

Back after a justifiably long nand tiring break... Im not sure how funny nor awry this post's gonna be. It is probably going to have all the aspects of a technical paper that failed to be published, but here I go... in a momentum rise-time delay between two exams. The air-gap that's created between two exams always gives you this porous feeling that has to be given sufficient temperature and shearing stress to facilitate better alignment that exhibit good permeability into the inner layers of the human brain.

Phew! Even after six years of university and many more years of writing exams ( I remember writing exam since I was in kindergarten ... and appearing in the "India Today" magazine for complaining about it when I was 5!! ), some aspects of exam preparation just do not change. Fighting between two totally unrelated subjects of circuit design and membrane science, my mind is but an entanglement of hollow fibers and logic gates...

Old habits die hard, and I am proud to be part of the huge bunch of people who are last-minute muggers. Now these poor souls have an exponential sinusoidal curve of study-relax-study which begins to rise as slowly as a anti-logarithmic function of time, and then suddenly peaks to the maximum on the day before, sometimes night before, or even on the day of the exam. Of course there are always papers, for which the momentum peaks in the examination hall!

In the study-relax-study mode, the relax mode could take various forms. Nerds (with due respect to them) consider going to relieve themselves urgently after a long session, a good enough break. To some it could be as simple as a puff of cigarette or a can of coke. Others could listen to the same song or even the same line of the song over and over again. I know people who take breaks even before they start their study for the day.

Im not sure if you have noticed that even if there are 5 days to study for the exam, the last day seems to be reserved for the peak of the exponent - or about 80% of the preparation. No one knows where one gets the strength and concentration on that day. On the last day, some people spend the relax mode thinking "... if only I had spent this effort one 3 days during the rest of the year... I would have been relaxed now" Really?

Sometimes the 'relax' break is spent planning. There have been exams where I could and did plan on which chapter to skip since it could be left in choice at the exam. For other exams, I have planned on the grade I would be satisfied with, and the amount of leeway that gave me to skip more chapters. Apart from finding such legitimate or illegitimate methods of skipping chapters, the planning could take other funny forms like "... I should change my studying tactics for my next exam, next semester or next year ... " or even "... I think I need a break. Hey! Isnt it high time I visited Angkor Wat!"

Have you ever wondered why the best musical concepts, the best cooking recipes or the most artistic ideas struck you when you were stuck neck-deep into a math problem. And as you are debating whether to proceed with the problem or with the idea, a long-lost friend would walk past and say "Hey! How's it going?" Fighting to avoid the inevitable expression and forcing a smile, 2 things could happen to you. Either your friend's smart, realizes its not a good time and walks away. Or he decides to make himself comfortable at a table near you and thats when some of the most uninteresting conversations or even monologues take place.

And then suddenly the realization dawns upon you... as it does now on me... "Gosh! its time for me to get up and get going. Iv got lots to study. Bye!!!"

The Consistent Irregular

The Anglicized Tamilian

To us south indians, anyone coming from north of andhra pradesh is a North Indian, and any language he speaks is Hindi. And to the 'north indians', anyone south of bombay is a south indian and any language he speaks is Tamil!! Yet, ask the Malayalee, and he will say how much he feels out of place when people speak Tamil around him, and vice versa.

India has more than a hundred languages including dialects. We still survive because there is at least one in a thousand who can speak hindi. Hey, thats a large number of people considering the population of India. Most of our political transactions are done in hindi. But even there, the hindi spoken by various people can take different forms. Just try to compare Lallu and Vajpayee! Or Venkaiyaa Naidu and Advani, or even Sonia & Manmohan. In fact one of our prime ministers once said "Bhaiyon aur Bhaiyon" in the Independence Day address ... to think how much of a male chauvinist he should have been!

When I listen to something, and ask a chinese friend of yours... " is this chinese? ", he will never agree to it. He will always say " Zis is not chinesu. Zis izu one ofu dialecthu from ____ part of China. Have you heardu of ze guanxouzi province??" And the only reply that I have is "O yes, is it the one with the big river flowing through it?" because to me, all chinese names sound the same! In fact for us Indians, its always a nightmare trying to remember the names of our colleagues. You change one syllable in his name and your talking about food! You change 2 and you either love his wife or you're swearing at your boss real bad!!

These are times when I thank God for English. But then English also has a million dialects. No, Im not referring to Shakespearean English or Biblical English. I am referring to the following, which are non-exaggerated adaptations from talks by representatives of two of the largest populations in the world:
" Plees welcome to thi Hyderabad, the Bill Clinton, United States of Amerika Precident. Dear Sir, I would like to introduce to you, the Ramalinga Raju and also the Narayanamoorthy. As the Chief Minister Andhra Pardes, I am the Chandrababu Naidu would like to present .... "
" When you substitoottu the yikkuzakkutu (exact) valoo ofu 'aenn' (n) into the ikuashing (equation) you will do the differenshiashing and the intigrashing to obtain the sulooshing (solution)... "

But the interesting fact is that English still rules! Despite those people who say "fly lice" for 'fried rice', and those who say the same thing whether they want to say 'fox' or 'focus'; despite those who use an article before adjectives and verbs and some who dont use verbs at all; and despite those people who need English subtitles on BBC & CNN when they are actually talking in English, the world still works in English!!

So the next time someone asks you "Is this English?" say "NO. Thats just a dialect!!"

The Anglicized Tamilian

The Lazy Workaholic

Hi everyone,

After a short break, here I go again. You have seen the 'hungry-ghost' face of me. Here comes another one...

Getting back to normal shift from the 4-day-week-day-shift was more difficult than I expected. It was because our team of 6 was short of a senior engineer as he was on vacation in China. So that made us 5. There was quite a bit of responsibility entrusted upon me. I felt important, but it was only a matter of time before the feeling gave way to the feeling of being over-worked.

I was working 8-7, 5 days a week. Things went on smoothly, until I started getting commitments outside work. I joined the local orchestra. This basically made sure my weekends were tight too. I ended up running around the city everyday, work, practice, weddings, swimming, etc, etc. I have always been this person who likes to be busy. My friends used to make fun of me that I have always wanted to handle more things than I can.

My daily fortune even once read - You have a great week ahead, but handle one thing at a time. Sometimes I wonder which guy who meets you daily is the one writing these daily fortunes, that they so vividly describe your current state of mind. Only when I read the fortunes for other zodiacs, I realized that these descriptions would fit any individual, because all of us often suffer from the same problems - stress, lack of motivation, handling too many issues, relationships, etc. So the work of a starscope writer is quite simple. All he has to do is choose 12 problems, and allot one to each zodiac!

A sudden weather change made sure I started bringing out my umbrella to work. But being the absent-minded-professor-aspirant, I left my umbrella at work one day. As fate would have it, it rained that very day and I got wet. That night, my throat started throwing tantrums. Luckily it was still weekend, and I thought I could recoup within a day and be ready for work the next day.

Soon my entire body was on strike. I could hear every organ - "down with all the running around" - "we refuse to budge". And being a nice boss, or rather having no other choice, I had to submit to the pleas of my employees.The last couple of days have been funny. I feel like a bird who's wings have been cut off. My doctor had specified... "No exercise, no running, no walking, no activities, no work..." I thought "well, that does not leave too many things that I can do!!"

Your body wants to rest when you want to run. But it wants to run when you want to rest. To explain that better, its as if your employees want to strike when they have to work. But they want to work when you've granted them their leave!! The world is full of such funny morons who always want to do things they are not doing. Err... why do I feel Iv just described myself!

Moral of the story: If a boss is too busy to notice his employees' problems, his employees have to go on strike, and so badly that the boss has no option but to submit.

The Lazy Workaholic