Friends in Strangers in the Himalayas

After almost an hour and a half into the picturesque drive towards Shimla, a catastrophic realization dawned on my mom! Her eyes suddenly became as round as coins as she looked at me in baffled desperation. She had blissfully forgotten her handbag in the restaurant where we had briefly stopped for our lunch along the drive. Horror, fear and agony gripped her all at once. The bag contained: a decent amount of cash - both RMB and INR; indispensable credit cards; several documents; an expensive camera; two of her much-valued mobile phones; some pieces of her prized jewellery items and most importantly our passports. You may well imagine the pandemonium that ensued at the sheer thought of losing our passports; our car came to a screeching halt in an instant. My Himalayan holiday plans encountered a severe jolt on the very first day of the vacation. How was this going to end?

Excitedly, I recalled the name of the restaurant after a few moments of pondering – Pinewood Inn. Within a few minutes our chauffeur, Arjun made a hasty U-turn towards Chandigarh. He kept assuring us that my mom would retrieve her bag. However I could almost feel the trauma of facing a never-ending series of bizarre government procedural norms. I was well nigh certain that our entire vacation would go topsy-turvy. Upon figuring out the contact numbers of the restaurant from the internet after what seemed ages of buffering, my dad frantically tried to reach the restaurant. But luck seemed to betray us! Each of our attempts to call the restaurant failed due to poor connectivity on the highway. A distraught countenance on my dad’s otherwise composed face did not escape my eyes. My mom brooded over her loss unabatedly while hot tears kept flooding her cheeks. 

With surprising deftness, Arjun drove us along the highway, snaking its way through the magnificent mountains. Quite abruptly that sky was overcast with dark grey clouds. To make matters worse, it started raining torrentially. I was absorbed in the menacingly beautiful look of rain-drenched Himalayas clad in mist and clouds.  The mental turmoil was killing. Nevertheless, the beauty and verdure of the clumps of majestic pine trees mesmerized me. Suddenly I heard a low rumble, which grew louder every second. Looking up at the hillside, I saw that several trees shuddered, tilted outward and fell off on the road.

Landslide. Arjun stopped shortly pressing his foot brake hard. My mom was in a state of absolute panic.

We remained rooted to the spot until the rocks stopped rolling down and the trees stood still. I noticed that some birds were circling the area. A frightened barking-deer darted past our car. Small cascades of water became gushing waterfalls. Frogs chanted. A tea vendor popped up from somewhere and served us piping hot ginger-cardamom tea in clay cups. Strong, spicy and zesty flavor of the tea mixed with the fresh aroma of rain and created a heavenly atmosphere. A cup of tea with some hot and crisp peanuts refreshed us in a jiffy. Arjun took a shortcut through a jungle path to circumvent the landslide and merge with the highway again.

As soon as our milky white car stopped in front of the quaint restaurant, my mom stormed into the reception area and blurted out the incident to the manager.

The pleasant looking manager listened patiently and politely replied “Mrs. Chatterjee, please be calm. It is safe in our custody”.

We had not heard such comforting words in a long time! A huge sense of relief enveloped all of us as the shiny crimson-red Prada bag was handed over to us with all its contents safe and sound. The manager explained that a waiter had spotted the bag and immediately handed it over to the management. The managerial staff contacted some Mumbai numbers that they found in a diary but they did not receive much information about our whereabouts. Subsequently they were about to contact the police when we rushed in. My dad thanked the staff immensely and desired to meet Amar, the waiter, who found the bag.

 “I do not want any money Sir. I just want to help a traveler who might be in crisis,” Amar humbly refused to accept the cash that my dad offered to him as a gesture of our appreciation. We were amazed and deeply touched by his incredible honesty, wondrous simplicity and humanity. The staff of Pinewood hotel, a small road-side inn in Barogh on the Chandigarh-Shimla highway in India still remains as one of our greatest friends.

The next few days were spent in Shimla, the erstwhile summer capital of the British in India. Hiking up hilly roads lined with pine trees, exploring forests covered with oak, deodar and rhododendron trees, horse riding and running about in apple orchards recharged me. But I realized one thing - the element of adventure that lurks in any journey often becomes more awe-inspiring than the destination itself!

Noyonika

A Not So Traditional Christmas Dinner

Christmas dinner in Boston...e-version coming soon!

Surfing in Paradise

“Hurry!” yelled my mum. I eagerly approached the car after a calming break on the toilet. I couldn’t wait till we arrived at the surfing center. After a long but short journey I hastily jumped out the car and sprinted towards the shops quick as I could. when all of the other people arrived I took the closest board over to the beach and started to wax the board so I wouldn’t fall off. I looked to the sea and found myself watching the spectacular waves that I was going to surf.

The awesome sea was so clear that I felt like you could fall right through. As I wriggled into the water the instructor started to paddle to the set of waves that were starting to form. I couldn’t wait until I was finally on a wave enjoying the beautiful moment.

The first wave was a nice medium sized one to get me going but I just couldn’t get myself to standing up. It was a long time since I had been on a board and I felt it right away when I found my self on the board but Unfortunately the wave didn’t last forever and before I knew it I was lying in the water getting back on my board. After some warming up in the shallow part we moved out where all of the locals were hanging out to catch the perfect wave.

Then-- on the horizon I saw that there was a tremendous wave stretching to reach the sky but I decided to let it go since there was another wave covering anything that was hidden behind the ginormous wave. Because most of the locals had gone for the first it was easier for me to compete for the second wave and before I knew it my arms were paddling as fast as I could snapping my feet up to the position that I needed them to be in.

I could feel the wave crashing down angrily behind me in a white scramble but right before me the wave was as smooth as silk and as clear as glass.

The ride felt memorable.

It ended with a calming decrease of the wave. I jumped of the board but needed to got back on again since I had to get back out to the amazing but furious waves. This was not an easy task since all of the other waves were coming in as I was going the opposite way. BOOM there was a big wave coming my way that had just smacked me right in the face. BOOM, again another wave smacked me off my board and into the water. There was a quick gap for time until the next big wave came and smacked me off my board. I used the gap to my advantage and quickly paddled my way as far out as I could. Out at sea from the middle of nowhere a huge wave popped up but I had time before it crashed and probably would have swung me off my board and thrashed me into the sea.

I ferociously paddled my way over the towering wave-me and my board made it safely over the wave. But this time as a team. I was a back with the group of locals. Ending the same way that I started. After a few more beautiful waves I headed back in to the beach.

After all that surfing my arms were hurting already and I had to squeeze out the last of my energy to get me back home. At 6:30pm and after 4 hours of surfing I was hungry and dying to get something into my mouth. Luckily the food was heaven in a place like Hawaii. 

Johnny

Taipei

On the 28^th of March, I got off the airplane at Taipei, Taiwan. The first thing that hit me was that Taiwan was as hot as a volcano. The second thing that I realized was that I was still Nauseous. I had a big lunch right before the plane ride, and the plane ride made me nauseous. After my parents collected the luggage, we went outside and got a taxi. After what seemed like hours, we finally arrived at a hotel called Regent. It was a grand hotel with a big plaza in the middle.

In the afternoon, we went to Taipei 101, an important landmark in Taiwan. The tower was extremely high and I couldn’t even see the top. We entered a building a block away from the tower and I met my aunt, uncle, cousin, grandma and grandpa. We had dinner there. After that, we went back to our hotels. On our way back to the hotel, we went pass a garden that had a lot of colorful flowers. My brother wanted to hide and seek there so we did. However, since my little brother is my little brother, he couldn’t find me and we ran out of time so we went to the hotel.

The next day was really really good and bad. In the morning, we went to the Oceanside on a metro. We rented a bicycle and met my aunt and uncle on the way. For lunch, we ate at a fancy Oceanside restaurant. The view was beautiful. You can see the whole sky and ocean. The food there was also impressive. The extremely bad part of the day was at noon.

My parent and grandparents wanted to eat at the food street. The food street is a basically a street where a lot of locals sell food. It took about half an hour to get there and as the temperature was extremely hot, I got extremely annoyed. I was pretty much whining the whole time. Even when my mom bought ice-cold water, it still couldn’t fix my tantrum. Since my little brother is also whiny, he managed to convince my dad to let me, my brother and him to eat a McDonalds while my mom and grandparents ate at the food street.

On the next day, we had a 2-hour car ride to the mountains. We stayed at a hotel called- ‘The Old England’. The Old England hotel was a hotel that impressed me. It was on a high mountain. Everything there, the rooms, the garden, the corridors, it was all suppose to be just like 20^th century. The room contained lots of complimentary treats, like fruit candy and others. It might not have been big, but it looked antique like a 20^th century household. The area of the hotel was quite small. Most of the place was filled with decorations. In the room, if you look out the balcony, you can see the whole mountainside. The air is fresh and the view is perfect.

I can say that Taipei is a wonderful place to be.

Rick

Being High!--Las Vegas

I sat down on a sofa with its skin ripped off; waiting for my turn to actually do something I will love to do again in my life. The place was crowded, cold and big, the other customers there were very loud when they laughed and they did not stop or quiet down at all. My family seemed to be the only people that sat down waiting quietly and normally for our turn.

As I walked into the preparation room it shocked me because the people there were very nice, completely different from the people outside, they gave you advice and taught you moves some of the most comfortable and the safest in their opinion. The reason I came here was because people say skydiving is a culture or a tradition in Las Vegas.

“You will be about to enter on an menacing flight and we are not responsible for any injuries.” The manager said.

Every part of this should be a good experience for me and this is part of taking risks, almost everyone in Las Vegas has done this once or twice in their life – I was not afraid!

I think everyone has now known a little bit of my identity, I am a student and a traveller, I go to places and I do things (they have to be a tradition or something famous in that region).  

Guess where I am going to land for the end of the trip?

Yup, nowhere because the place I am in is an indoor skydiving base located in Las Vegas (I am too small for real skydiving!). For events like this, my family usually allows me to do this in the morning or the afternoon because there might be a lot of people trying to skydive (this is usually an experience, people who have travelled a lot know this like my family and me. Probably some other people too!) You may wonder what people do in a gigantic tube with a fan below. Blowing them up and down, giving them a headache. At the “tube”, the people inside will do some tricks like this:

My brother and I did not know what we would look like inside the “tube” so we asked the manager to take photos of us while we were flying or gliding in the middle of the “tube”! The camera was used to take videos and photos for customers that paid extra so we decided to pay the extra amount that was required. 

Soon after this we were sent into the “tube” for the first time in our lives and to see what it was like in there. Nothing was there for me to do and I was not responsible of anything but to go in and enjoy and get out; there was a coach that will guide us through the process, he held our suits so that we won’t fly very high up in the air. Some of the suits were baggy so that the air could get in and out. Inside the “tube” the fan was extremely loud and I could feel my ear beating; luckily the flight was only 15 minutes long.

 The whole progress was amazing even though it was only 15 minutes long; it felt like 30 minutes because there were only two people, if there were more people, less flying time for everyone!

The dive is done now, the tube has been sealed again waiting for its next diver. Next time it will blow them up in the sky and let them drop – Indoor Skydiving was really fun!

Albert 

A Hindu Horror Story

A few years ago, when I was in primary school  on summer holiday, I spent several months travelling through Asia with my family. We had to make our way from the Himalayas in Nepal down to Delhi. We arrived late one evening at the railway station of Gorakhpur, in time to catch a train at midnight. Or at least that was the plan.

I waited, and waited, and still the train did not come – until finally, at around 9 o’clock in the morning, the train arrived.  Oh… my… God…I thought, This train is packed ! I climbed into the train, and clambered over people and luggage until I found the compartment where my seat was reserved. There seemed no room, but they made space for me and I squeezed in by the window. It was a 3rd class carriage, just a wooden bench for a seat, and no aircon ! It was May, and stiflingly hot in the Northern plains of India – thank goodness for the breeze coming in through the open window !  The train chugged on through the morning, until …. Calamity !

 The train broke down, in the middle of nowhere !  No more breeze, it got hotter and hotter inside the crowded compartment. Nothing seemed to be happening, until finally a train conductor arrived and announced that another train would soon come and everyone had to transfer onto that one. My family and I looked out of the window waiting, and waiting, for the new train.  When  it did arrive, I was just thinking 'Is this a joke ?!' There were more people on this train than on our very full train and all of us had to get in ! There were people on the roof, hanging out the windows, under the bench and even in the luggage compartment. Everywhere I turned my head there were millions of eyes staring back at me ! So again I climbed over bags,  people, goats and chickens to find my seat.

 The Indians were somewhat nice to me and let me sit. But I think it was because I was a child and a foreigner because soon after this a fight broke out between two Indians : one wanted the seat for his pregnant wife but the other wouldn’t give up his seat. It was quite funny actually because their language is quite onomatopoeic so I could know that they were swearing.  After an excruciatingly hot 15 minute break, the train started to move and all that I could think was  'get me out of this hellhole!' or 'I’m never getting into a train again' but then the breeze started and all of my anger towards trains melted away. The train finally tiptoed into Delhi train station and I just told myself. Thank goodness It’s over ! I promised myself that I was never taking a train in India ever again.

Elenor

Tokyo: City of Perfection

Poor Shanghai. I used to think you were the new Star of the East, but a visit to Tokyo made me rethink, big time. Skyscrapers fill the futuristic city, with enormous billboards clambering on top of them, so desperate to be in the center of the stage. Blinding neon lights rebound off the building windows, flashing into the sky. Cars, buses, and motorbikes zoom past crowds of people who are hurrying to reach their destinations— laughing, chatting, and having fun. I’m sorry, Shanghai, but Tokyo is truly the most beautiful city in Asia. But, what makes it so unique?

It is the people, focusing on details to beautify their already flawless city in every aspect; perfectionism is the key.

Beautiful surroundings are the fundamental necessity for an ideal city. Imagine the look on my face as I stepped out of the airport doors. My eyes were wide with disbelief, and my mouth made a shape into an O. Saying that the streets were clean is an understatement. No kidding. Maybe I was just used to seeing dirt-covered pavements with crumbling bricks and mysterious puddles back in Shanghai, but honestly, Tokyo is the cleanest city I have ever been to. The sidewalks were clear of scraps of paper and pools of spit, and the bushes lining them were fastidiously trimmed. There were no plastic bags drifting through the busy traffic. And it’s not just the environment they want to perfect, the Japanese also bring their obsession with perfectionism to their daily fashion.

Tokyo, no doubt, is a city of true fashion. Not only does it have major influence on international fashion trends, it also holds important events such as fashion week. Everybody living there had their own style of dressing, and every one of them were different. No matter where I went in Tokyo, there were always large crowds of people — some with exotic pink hair or short wacky dresses, and others with dramatic makeup on their faces. They looked like they were from the Capitol in the Hunger Games. Now, let me describe a typical middle-aged woman from Shanghai. She twists her mousy hair into a droopy bun, holding it loosely with just a tiny hair clip. Her face is heavily powdered with a thick coat of foundation (which is way too white for her skin tone), and fills her lips with an awful shade of dark red lipstick. The woman wears a glittery shirt that is two sizes too small, matching it with a tight neon yellow skirt and Hello Kitty leggings. They totally have great fashion sense, right?

The Japanese not only perfect their physical appearance, they also try to beautify their manners. One of the most convenient transportation in Tokyo is the Shinkansen. I remember being surprised whilst boarding the high-speed train. Not being as rude as the people in Shanghai, the Japanese passengers who were boarding the train waited patiently for the people getting off before stepping through the doors. When I got on, it was quiet. Like really quiet. People chatted in whispers, and didn’t consume any food or drink at all. My eyes and ears were so used to the high-pitched screaming back in Shanghai, this sudden change made me uncomfortable, until I realized how much more enjoyable was my journey.  

This woman, wearing designer brands from top to bottom, with her sunglasses coolly perched on her nose, demands the spotlight. She turns heads when she strides by, enjoying the amount of attention given to her. She speaks confidently, as if her words were sweet melodies that came out of her mouth. What a beautiful lady she is, Tokyo!

Candy