It's been a while since I wrote anything coherent or sensible (code included) and somehow reading countless blogs of friends and other random people induces me to write this. Just to make sure that I am still capable of forming reasonable sentences of appreciable length. That, and the absolute boredom of being, which I shall get to soon.
It's been a little less than a month since landing up in Italy and one thing that keeps going around in my head with irritating regularity is 'stranger in a strange land'. The biggest shock that is still only very slowly fading off is that of language - everything is in ITALIAN. And, hardly anyone speaks English. So much so, that, at the local immigration office, where one goes to apply for the stay permit, the people cannot speak English. WTF? You expect foreigners to come there, but then again in Europe, unlike the rest of the world, English is not a language that you can get by with. Argh! Six languages on a box of chocolates and not one is English - there is Hungarian and Polish - but not even a sliver of English.
Well, one thing is for certain - Russel Peters wasn't wrong about the hand gesture. That one hand gesture is possibly the most frequently used - though it does not always mean 'WTF?'. What is actually means depends on a) the tone of the conversation (normal, heated, nuclear) and b) the force of execution. Italians cannot ever speak without using their hands. Tie an Italian's hand behind his back and ask him to speak and he will probably just spontaneous combust.
Eating outside is, as expected, a little bit of an issue for TamBrams. Even, if it is a non-conformist chicken-mutton eating TamBram. Pork, beef and the some seafood is what they eat here. Chicken and mutton, I guess, is too pedestrian. Pork, maybe I can manage, but a few thousand years of culture, religion and values hardwired and programmed into me refuses to give in to eating beef. You do get vegetarian food, but after a couple of weeks you run out of options. Not to mention the absolute blandness of food - I really fail to see the subtlety of taste and flavor, except the overpowering taste of cheese and cardboard. Last Friday, while eating lunch (risotto, funghi e formaggio - rice, mushroom and cheese) after one spoon of it, I went and doused the entire thing with about four or five spoons of pepper powder (which also isn't very spicy - God alone knows why). An Italian friend who was with me looks at the plate and asks me how I would be able to taste the vegetables and rice with so much spice. I could only shrug and say that without the pepper I couldn't taste anything. The Indian taste-centers of the brain have been designed to taste everything else after canceling out the spice.
The margherita pizza is stupendously amazing. It isn't close to anything I have has in India. In fact, the pizza here has no comparable equivalent in India. It's just brilliant. Especially, the Napoli pizza. And the gelato - the worst gelato here is better than the best I have eaten in Bangalore. You can get really surprising flavors like ginger and saffron and choose to mix it with something regular like chocolate or pistachio. It's creamy, cold, sweet and one of those things that is familiar and comforting. The gelato pricing when converted to Indian rupees is still in the same range - 1.5-2 euro (or 90-120) for two normal scoops. Everything else is expensive. I paid 1.5 euro for three garlic and I pay 33 cents for a large glass of plain drinking water in the canteen. Maybe by European standards it isn't too much, but heck, I am Indian currently living on euros purchased with rupees - of course, 20 rupees is too much.
Quite honestly, the Leaning Tower isn't that stupendously mind-numbingly spectacular. It's nice. Probably because I pass by it almost every day, the charm has worn off. But, even at first sight, it did not make an impression like Ankor Wat or the Taj Mahal or the Vittala Temple in Hampi. It was just about so, so.
This place is small enough to walk and get around. One end of the town to the other end should take approximately a little more than an hour - that is how small it is. And since it is a university town, it's mostly filled with university students. Weekend nights at Piazza Garibaldi are noisy. Tons of young cute women around - this post that I chanced upon probably best describes the situation here. The only problem is though they are of every imaginable size, shape, color and undress - they all pretty much look the same to me. Heavily made-up, tight (often plunging/enhanced necklines etc) and white. I just can't seem to tell them apart very well. And, they all speak mostly only Italian. Strike one, two and three. I'm out.
I have a ticket booked back to go to India in September. Do you think I should buy myself a fancy Android smartphone at the Dubai duty free - or drink a glass of champagne? It's not quite often that an ATB gets his annual dose of a few more grey hairs (or in my case, another centimeter of receding hairline) over the Persian Gulf or maybe over Iraq? Of course, the scariest part of the trip home is the Dubai - Bangalore leg where you fly just off the coast of our dear neighbour (yes, the very same one who was whacked in the semi-finals). I think the entire aircraft including the atheists start praying.
PS: Episode Five - very soon. Written, but as soon as I figure out where I stopped Episode Four.
It's been a little less than a month since landing up in Italy and one thing that keeps going around in my head with irritating regularity is 'stranger in a strange land'. The biggest shock that is still only very slowly fading off is that of language - everything is in ITALIAN. And, hardly anyone speaks English. So much so, that, at the local immigration office, where one goes to apply for the stay permit, the people cannot speak English. WTF? You expect foreigners to come there, but then again in Europe, unlike the rest of the world, English is not a language that you can get by with. Argh! Six languages on a box of chocolates and not one is English - there is Hungarian and Polish - but not even a sliver of English.
Well, one thing is for certain - Russel Peters wasn't wrong about the hand gesture. That one hand gesture is possibly the most frequently used - though it does not always mean 'WTF?'. What is actually means depends on a) the tone of the conversation (normal, heated, nuclear) and b) the force of execution. Italians cannot ever speak without using their hands. Tie an Italian's hand behind his back and ask him to speak and he will probably just spontaneous combust.
Eating outside is, as expected, a little bit of an issue for TamBrams. Even, if it is a non-conformist chicken-mutton eating TamBram. Pork, beef and the some seafood is what they eat here. Chicken and mutton, I guess, is too pedestrian. Pork, maybe I can manage, but a few thousand years of culture, religion and values hardwired and programmed into me refuses to give in to eating beef. You do get vegetarian food, but after a couple of weeks you run out of options. Not to mention the absolute blandness of food - I really fail to see the subtlety of taste and flavor, except the overpowering taste of cheese and cardboard. Last Friday, while eating lunch (risotto, funghi e formaggio - rice, mushroom and cheese) after one spoon of it, I went and doused the entire thing with about four or five spoons of pepper powder (which also isn't very spicy - God alone knows why). An Italian friend who was with me looks at the plate and asks me how I would be able to taste the vegetables and rice with so much spice. I could only shrug and say that without the pepper I couldn't taste anything. The Indian taste-centers of the brain have been designed to taste everything else after canceling out the spice.
The margherita pizza is stupendously amazing. It isn't close to anything I have has in India. In fact, the pizza here has no comparable equivalent in India. It's just brilliant. Especially, the Napoli pizza. And the gelato - the worst gelato here is better than the best I have eaten in Bangalore. You can get really surprising flavors like ginger and saffron and choose to mix it with something regular like chocolate or pistachio. It's creamy, cold, sweet and one of those things that is familiar and comforting. The gelato pricing when converted to Indian rupees is still in the same range - 1.5-2 euro (or 90-120) for two normal scoops. Everything else is expensive. I paid 1.5 euro for three garlic and I pay 33 cents for a large glass of plain drinking water in the canteen. Maybe by European standards it isn't too much, but heck, I am Indian currently living on euros purchased with rupees - of course, 20 rupees is too much.
Quite honestly, the Leaning Tower isn't that stupendously mind-numbingly spectacular. It's nice. Probably because I pass by it almost every day, the charm has worn off. But, even at first sight, it did not make an impression like Ankor Wat or the Taj Mahal or the Vittala Temple in Hampi. It was just about so, so.
This place is small enough to walk and get around. One end of the town to the other end should take approximately a little more than an hour - that is how small it is. And since it is a university town, it's mostly filled with university students. Weekend nights at Piazza Garibaldi are noisy. Tons of young cute women around - this post that I chanced upon probably best describes the situation here. The only problem is though they are of every imaginable size, shape, color and undress - they all pretty much look the same to me. Heavily made-up, tight (often plunging/enhanced necklines etc) and white. I just can't seem to tell them apart very well. And, they all speak mostly only Italian. Strike one, two and three. I'm out.
I have a ticket booked back to go to India in September. Do you think I should buy myself a fancy Android smartphone at the Dubai duty free - or drink a glass of champagne? It's not quite often that an ATB gets his annual dose of a few more grey hairs (or in my case, another centimeter of receding hairline) over the Persian Gulf or maybe over Iraq? Of course, the scariest part of the trip home is the Dubai - Bangalore leg where you fly just off the coast of our dear neighbour (yes, the very same one who was whacked in the semi-finals). I think the entire aircraft including the atheists start praying.
PS: Episode Five - very soon. Written, but as soon as I figure out where I stopped Episode Four.
