I'm all excited about the newly-introduced New Zealand cricketer.
I've always been a fan of New Zealand Cricket. It probably started off with my fascination with the country, and escalated because my favorite cricketer, Shane Bond, was a Black Cap. So it's always been with keen interest that I've followed the fortunes of the New Zealand cricket team, or the Black Caps, as they're called. And it interested me when, in the third Test match between New Zealand and England, the name of Tim Southee was being thrown about.
Timothy Grant Southee is a player who's been in the pipeline for quite some time. I've been reading about him, first as an excellent schoolboy cricketer, and then as a very, very good player in the U-19 team of New Zealand. He played a massive part in NZ U-19's win against Ireland in the ICC U-19 Cricket World Cup in 2006 -- when he was just seventeen. He played again in the 2008 U-19 World Cup, and this time, was the Player of the Tournament, with an amazing 11 wickets, in spite of playing one match lesser than his closest contender for the title. I was all eager to see the young boy play.
When he was selected for the third Test, I doubt anyone thought initially he would be actually used -- with Kyle Mills present, there was very little chance of a 19-year-old rookie being offered the new ball. But Mills pulled out of the match, Southee was given the new ball, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Southee was excellent. I couldn't see every ball he bowled, but I managed to see a few overs in between -- and he bowls impeccably. He's not Shane Bond -- I doubt there will ever be another -- but Richard Hadlee? Yes, perhaps. He bowled with control, and swung the ball beautifully. His first wicket was a beauty -- four balls dished out to English captain Michael Vaughan, all outswingers. When Vaughan was expecting a fifth, Southee bowled a straight one, and trapped Vaughan leg before. Beautiful. His second over in Test cricket, and Southee had a wicket -- that of Michael Vaughan!
He went on to capture four more, two of them being Andrew Strauss and Kevin Pieterson, two of the most dangerous men in the English batting line-up. Wonderful, wonderful bowling. Kid, I thought to myself, consider me impressed. His final figures? 23.1-8.55-5.
He was out for 5 batting, and didn't get a wicket in the second innings, though he bowled quite well, in my opinion (not that I got to see a large part of the innings). But he was scintillating in the final innings of the match! He smashed 77 runs off 40 balls, which was studded with 9 sixes -- the most by any number 10 batsman. He hit his fifty off just 29 balls, the fastest ever by a New Zealander, and the sixth fastest ever. He was a revelation, in every sense of the word.
Tim Southee seems to be here to stay.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Harris Park Horror
To those who live near the North Campus area of UT, Harris Park needs no introduction. It's that green stretch of land between San Jacinto and Red River streets, that looks refreshing in the daylight and terrifying at night. Many a tale I've heard of murderers lurking in the undergrowth, waiting to slice through the throats of hapless passers-by. The leaves rustle at night, sounding downright creepy, more so than ever when you're returning home at 3am after a session of heavy-duty coding. Yes, Harris Park's an interesting place.
In the daylight, it's pretty innocuous. There are some swings and picnic tables there, and I've seen families there, having fun. It's usually inhabited in the mornings by joggers and people taking their dogs for walks. All-in-all, it looks like a very nice place in the morning. I've spent time with friends on those swings. Another reason I like the place is because it's a short-cut from my apartment to my department (hey, that rhymed!). Going down Dean Keeton takes a good ten minutes more than it would take to cut through Harris Park.
With this in mind, my friend Archana and I decided to take Harris Park when we were returning from a satisfying dinner at Thai Kitchen on 30th St. We looked at the park before entering it. It looked sinister, with large dark patches. There were a couple of lights shining bleakly, giving pale blobs of yellow light. Most of the park was shrouded in darkness. There was not a single soul there. A light wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. Archana and I looked at each other.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Archana.
"Sure," I said, exuding bravado, though I was quaking inside. It looked creepy, and it didn't help matters any that we'd been discussing ghost stories on the way, with Archana telling me how she thought her apartment was haunted, and how she and her roommate heard random sounds at night that had given them the creeps. All this raced through my mind as we entered the park.
We walked through the lighted patch, my breath quickening. I gave a nervous laugh. "You wouldn't want to have a go on the swings, would you?" I asked Archana.
"NO!" Archana returned firmly. She probably thought I was eccentric enough to do that!
"No, of course not," I said, and we moved on ahead, till we reached the end of the lighted area. Then we stopped.
The part ahead was darker than black (borrowing the phrase from a favorite anime series of mine!), and looked like something out of a horror movie. Large trees barred our way, and made funny noises (wind whistling through the branches, but my overactive imagination thought otherwise). Strange shadows flitted across the area. It agonized me that the apartment was just across the "twilight zone" as I dubbed it, but it was too much for my limited stock of courage to try to make my way across the area.
"Er....." I asked. "Are we making our way across that?"
"No," said Archana, firmly. "I don't think so."
"It's a short cut," I told her. Just then, something seemed to move in the shadows, and it seemed to move at superhuman speed. I jumped, and grabbed Archana's arm in a vice-like grip, probably making her jump as well.
"What was that all about?" she asked.
"S-something moved," I told her fearfully. We took another step into the darkness, with me literally quaking. My breath was coming fast now -- I was close to hyperventilating.
"That's it," said Archana. "We're not going through there." She led me back to the lighted area.
As soon as we came out into the light, I let out a huge breath, my heart fluttering. For some reason, that had shook me up a lot more than usual! We started walking back toward the entrance to the park, when a shadowy figure ran by us. I jumped violently again, and the state of our minds wasn't eased by the fact that it was a large-ish black dog that had passed us.
"Meh," I said, not sure what to do or say any more.
"Let's get out of there," said Archana.
"I agree," I said, and we practically ran out of there.
"That black dog reminds me of something," I told her.
"Yeah, me too," she said.
"Shall I tell you what it reminds me of?"
"No!" said Archana sharply. "Not here. Let's get out first."
We were practically running when we reached the entrance. It was then that I noticed the leash around the dog's neck. I almost stopped.
"Hey, it's someone's pet," I said, almost stopping.
Archana pulled me along. "Sure, whatever," she said, and with a few more steps, we were out on the road. We stopped to catch our breaths. It was then that we looked inside, and saw a man walk over to the dog and pick up the leash. We stared.
"So it was a pet!" I said, vindicated.
Archana laughed. "We were so terrified!" she said.
I laughed too, feeling much braver now out on the road. "Wanna do that again?" I asked, with a devilish gleam in my eye.
"No, thanks!" said Archana. "Let's walk back along Dean Keeton."
"Okay," I said. "By the way, what did that dog remind you of?"
"The black dog from Omen," said Archana. "What did it remind you of?"
"The hound of Baskervilles," I said. "The black dog of death."
We looked at each other for a minute, and then shivered. "Let's just get out of here," said Archana.
So we did just that, and walked back home. All the way we discussed the incident, almost laughing at our cowardice. But it sure was spooky when we walked through that park!
In the daylight, it's pretty innocuous. There are some swings and picnic tables there, and I've seen families there, having fun. It's usually inhabited in the mornings by joggers and people taking their dogs for walks. All-in-all, it looks like a very nice place in the morning. I've spent time with friends on those swings. Another reason I like the place is because it's a short-cut from my apartment to my department (hey, that rhymed!). Going down Dean Keeton takes a good ten minutes more than it would take to cut through Harris Park.
With this in mind, my friend Archana and I decided to take Harris Park when we were returning from a satisfying dinner at Thai Kitchen on 30th St. We looked at the park before entering it. It looked sinister, with large dark patches. There were a couple of lights shining bleakly, giving pale blobs of yellow light. Most of the park was shrouded in darkness. There was not a single soul there. A light wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. Archana and I looked at each other.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Archana.
"Sure," I said, exuding bravado, though I was quaking inside. It looked creepy, and it didn't help matters any that we'd been discussing ghost stories on the way, with Archana telling me how she thought her apartment was haunted, and how she and her roommate heard random sounds at night that had given them the creeps. All this raced through my mind as we entered the park.
We walked through the lighted patch, my breath quickening. I gave a nervous laugh. "You wouldn't want to have a go on the swings, would you?" I asked Archana.
"NO!" Archana returned firmly. She probably thought I was eccentric enough to do that!
"No, of course not," I said, and we moved on ahead, till we reached the end of the lighted area. Then we stopped.
The part ahead was darker than black (borrowing the phrase from a favorite anime series of mine!), and looked like something out of a horror movie. Large trees barred our way, and made funny noises (wind whistling through the branches, but my overactive imagination thought otherwise). Strange shadows flitted across the area. It agonized me that the apartment was just across the "twilight zone" as I dubbed it, but it was too much for my limited stock of courage to try to make my way across the area.
"Er....." I asked. "Are we making our way across that?"
"No," said Archana, firmly. "I don't think so."
"It's a short cut," I told her. Just then, something seemed to move in the shadows, and it seemed to move at superhuman speed. I jumped, and grabbed Archana's arm in a vice-like grip, probably making her jump as well.
"What was that all about?" she asked.
"S-something moved," I told her fearfully. We took another step into the darkness, with me literally quaking. My breath was coming fast now -- I was close to hyperventilating.
"That's it," said Archana. "We're not going through there." She led me back to the lighted area.
As soon as we came out into the light, I let out a huge breath, my heart fluttering. For some reason, that had shook me up a lot more than usual! We started walking back toward the entrance to the park, when a shadowy figure ran by us. I jumped violently again, and the state of our minds wasn't eased by the fact that it was a large-ish black dog that had passed us.
"Meh," I said, not sure what to do or say any more.
"Let's get out of there," said Archana.
"I agree," I said, and we practically ran out of there.
"That black dog reminds me of something," I told her.
"Yeah, me too," she said.
"Shall I tell you what it reminds me of?"
"No!" said Archana sharply. "Not here. Let's get out first."
We were practically running when we reached the entrance. It was then that I noticed the leash around the dog's neck. I almost stopped.
"Hey, it's someone's pet," I said, almost stopping.
Archana pulled me along. "Sure, whatever," she said, and with a few more steps, we were out on the road. We stopped to catch our breaths. It was then that we looked inside, and saw a man walk over to the dog and pick up the leash. We stared.
"So it was a pet!" I said, vindicated.
Archana laughed. "We were so terrified!" she said.
I laughed too, feeling much braver now out on the road. "Wanna do that again?" I asked, with a devilish gleam in my eye.
"No, thanks!" said Archana. "Let's walk back along Dean Keeton."
"Okay," I said. "By the way, what did that dog remind you of?"
"The black dog from Omen," said Archana. "What did it remind you of?"
"The hound of Baskervilles," I said. "The black dog of death."
We looked at each other for a minute, and then shivered. "Let's just get out of here," said Archana.
So we did just that, and walked back home. All the way we discussed the incident, almost laughing at our cowardice. But it sure was spooky when we walked through that park!
Friday, February 29, 2008
GRACS Game Night
Did I ever mention that I've been elected an officer of GRACS this semester? No, I don't believe I did. Well, I have -- and it's a fact I'm inordinately proud of. I've been going about the place broadcasting the fact that I'm a GRACS officer (a fact that makes me extremely proud, and makes it hard to avoid strutting). I take my duties very seriously -- representing the grad student population of the University of Texas at Austin Department of Computer Sciences, to give it its full name. GRACS stands for the Graduate Representative Association of Computer Sciences, and I'm a member.
GRACS is the body that represents us poor graduate students, and makes sure that people remember that we're alive, we're human, and we exist for purposes other than researching for professors. GRACS currently consists of six members -- Sudipta Chatterjee, Thomas Finsterbusch, Joel Hestness, Christian Miller, Donald Nguyen -- and me of course. Awesome people, all of them. But more about them later. This post is to describe the game night.
I believe the game night was Christian's idea. He basically put together a huge array of gaming machines and consoles, and a mind-boggling array of games, and told grad students to go out and have fun. My part of it was to arrange for the pizzas to feed the hungry army that I was sure would invade the food. Who would turn up to actually play was the real question. We were unsure about whether the event would interest grad students -- a special species characterized by their non-existent social life. So it was with some trepidation that we waited for 6:30pm on Wednesday, 27 February 2008.
At first, we were pleasantly surprised to find quite an impressive number of people accumulated in the room -- but that was rapidly abolished on learning the fact that almost 75% of them were there for the food. When the food arrived, there was a stampede. When the dust cleared, only about 15 or 20 people were left, and all that was left of the food was a pile of empty pizza boxes from Pizza Hut, and some crumbs lying on the floor. Poor Christian didn't even get any pizza.
I tried to clear up the boxes, but after pushing aside the pile of boxes listlessly to one side of the grad lounge, I felt too bored to do any more, and besides, I was curious about how game night was progressing. So I made my way to ACES 2.402, where the event was happening.
When I walked in, the room was in darkness, the only illumination coming from the large projection screens on the walls. Games were in progress, and there were people playing them. Loud rock music blared out, from Guitar Hero. There were random battle cries flying in the air from the various games in progress. I made my way to the back of the room, and perched myself on the top of the table (it's useful at times being tiny -- I can pretty much fit myself anywhere I want!) -- and watched the Wii being set up. At that, my eyes lit up. I hate to admit this, but I'm not a gaming freak. In fact, I don't even know the difference between a Gameboy, a PS2/3 and an Xbox, physically. I don't know what games people play on them either, except for Super Mario or some such derivative. I know pitifully little about the world of games, which always manages to stun people, because I'm an artist and they automatically assume that I'd be good at gaming as well (If you haven't gotten the association between the two, welcome to the club). It doesn't help matters that I'd taken the graduate level Graphics course last semester -- from the way some people announce the fact, you'd think I was the numero uno student in the class! Not so. I suffered badly in the course -- something that's been chronicled with plenty of heartbreak on this blog. But I digress. I was saying that I don't know much about games. Security, yes. Web development, yes. Networking, yes. But gaming -- no. Which was why I wasn't sure what I'd do in the room -- until the Wii came up.
Wii is something I can play -- and pretty decently too, at that. I'd been coached by my teammates while I was an intern at Dell, and considered myself pretty decent at Wii Sports (though I've only played tennis, bowling and boxing). The Wii is intuitive (man, gotta give it to the Japanese!) and I love playing. I looked on as Donald and Thomas played on it. When the game ended, Donald offered me his controller. With enormous eyes, I jumped into the game.
I put all my energy into the game. I must admit, I'm a very violent Wii player. I don't content myself with only moving my hand -- if I don't throw my entire body into the game, I feel as though I'd lose. I swung my controller like a pro tennis player, and threw myself wholeheartedly into the game. I think I banged my wildly flailing arm onto Thomas a couple of times. By the time the game ended -- and I lost, by the way -- my arm was already sore.
But that was just the beginning! I watched as my friends also threw themselves into the game. Some of my friends were there -- Ruchica Behl, Harshdeep Singh, Aditya Saurabh and Hari Jayaraman. Hari played the Wii the entire time were there -- I was surprised he had the stamina! Then again, except for me, no one exerts themselves as though they were playing pro tennis. After some rounds of the Wii, Ruchica, Harsh and I decided to try Mario Kart. We spent a hilarious 15 minutes trying to figure out how it worked, and then finally got it going. After I got annoyed banging into walls, I turned my console over to Aditya -- who was ragged to death by Harsh about his lack of knowledge about the game. It didn't help that Aditya kept making critical comments about the game.
"I discovered a bug," he announced, and proceeded to demonstrate it. "Look, when the car hits the wall, it goes through it instead of crashing against it!" and he banged his car repeatedly against the wall until it did go through.
"Saale, tu yahaan testing karne aaya hai ki game khelne? (Are you here for testing or for playing the game?)" demanded Harsh, his eyes glued to the projector screen.
I laughed and laughed. They kept jibing each other good-naturedly throughout the game, and I laughed till I almost lost my balance off my precarious perch. Ruchica, all this while, kept her cool, and managed to win the games simply by coasting through the maze.
In between listening to the two bicker, I looked around the room as well. People were playing all kinds of games. Christian was busy with some anime-looking game, and Donald and another Graphics student, Peter Djeu, were playing another anime-looking game. I think I'd die of humiliation if those guys ever found out I called the games "that anime-looking game"; but I really don't know one of them from the other. On another end of the room, Thomas and Joel were also playing some game. Guitar Hero was still in full flow, and at some point, I heard someone switch to a Muse song. The mood in the room was very exciting, very upbeat.
We played all the way till 10pm. We had thought that we might need to pack up by 8:30, if no one showed up -- but game night was an official success! I don't think the people wanted to leave at 10. I was exhausted, for it had been a long day, and my right arm was sore from playing Wii Tennis as though my life depended on it. Finally, at 10pm, we all ended game night, and returned back to our dreary lives.
I returned to my "office" -- it's actually Ruchica's office, but I've claimed it as my own :) and plonked myself on the chair I've claimed as well (I've claimed an unusually large number of things in that room), and felt my life force seeping out of me. Well, not really -- but I was seriously exhausted. When I returned home that night, I couldn't lift my right arm to wash my face, and the next day, I seriously thought about getting a sling, my right arm was so stiff with pain. But it was worth every moment of Game Night!! Game Night was an official success, and I sure hope we have more of them!
GRACS is the body that represents us poor graduate students, and makes sure that people remember that we're alive, we're human, and we exist for purposes other than researching for professors. GRACS currently consists of six members -- Sudipta Chatterjee, Thomas Finsterbusch, Joel Hestness, Christian Miller, Donald Nguyen -- and me of course. Awesome people, all of them. But more about them later. This post is to describe the game night.
I believe the game night was Christian's idea. He basically put together a huge array of gaming machines and consoles, and a mind-boggling array of games, and told grad students to go out and have fun. My part of it was to arrange for the pizzas to feed the hungry army that I was sure would invade the food. Who would turn up to actually play was the real question. We were unsure about whether the event would interest grad students -- a special species characterized by their non-existent social life. So it was with some trepidation that we waited for 6:30pm on Wednesday, 27 February 2008.
At first, we were pleasantly surprised to find quite an impressive number of people accumulated in the room -- but that was rapidly abolished on learning the fact that almost 75% of them were there for the food. When the food arrived, there was a stampede. When the dust cleared, only about 15 or 20 people were left, and all that was left of the food was a pile of empty pizza boxes from Pizza Hut, and some crumbs lying on the floor. Poor Christian didn't even get any pizza.
I tried to clear up the boxes, but after pushing aside the pile of boxes listlessly to one side of the grad lounge, I felt too bored to do any more, and besides, I was curious about how game night was progressing. So I made my way to ACES 2.402, where the event was happening.
When I walked in, the room was in darkness, the only illumination coming from the large projection screens on the walls. Games were in progress, and there were people playing them. Loud rock music blared out, from Guitar Hero. There were random battle cries flying in the air from the various games in progress. I made my way to the back of the room, and perched myself on the top of the table (it's useful at times being tiny -- I can pretty much fit myself anywhere I want!) -- and watched the Wii being set up. At that, my eyes lit up. I hate to admit this, but I'm not a gaming freak. In fact, I don't even know the difference between a Gameboy, a PS2/3 and an Xbox, physically. I don't know what games people play on them either, except for Super Mario or some such derivative. I know pitifully little about the world of games, which always manages to stun people, because I'm an artist and they automatically assume that I'd be good at gaming as well (If you haven't gotten the association between the two, welcome to the club). It doesn't help matters that I'd taken the graduate level Graphics course last semester -- from the way some people announce the fact, you'd think I was the numero uno student in the class! Not so. I suffered badly in the course -- something that's been chronicled with plenty of heartbreak on this blog. But I digress. I was saying that I don't know much about games. Security, yes. Web development, yes. Networking, yes. But gaming -- no. Which was why I wasn't sure what I'd do in the room -- until the Wii came up.
Wii is something I can play -- and pretty decently too, at that. I'd been coached by my teammates while I was an intern at Dell, and considered myself pretty decent at Wii Sports (though I've only played tennis, bowling and boxing). The Wii is intuitive (man, gotta give it to the Japanese!) and I love playing. I looked on as Donald and Thomas played on it. When the game ended, Donald offered me his controller. With enormous eyes, I jumped into the game.
I put all my energy into the game. I must admit, I'm a very violent Wii player. I don't content myself with only moving my hand -- if I don't throw my entire body into the game, I feel as though I'd lose. I swung my controller like a pro tennis player, and threw myself wholeheartedly into the game. I think I banged my wildly flailing arm onto Thomas a couple of times. By the time the game ended -- and I lost, by the way -- my arm was already sore.
But that was just the beginning! I watched as my friends also threw themselves into the game. Some of my friends were there -- Ruchica Behl, Harshdeep Singh, Aditya Saurabh and Hari Jayaraman. Hari played the Wii the entire time were there -- I was surprised he had the stamina! Then again, except for me, no one exerts themselves as though they were playing pro tennis. After some rounds of the Wii, Ruchica, Harsh and I decided to try Mario Kart. We spent a hilarious 15 minutes trying to figure out how it worked, and then finally got it going. After I got annoyed banging into walls, I turned my console over to Aditya -- who was ragged to death by Harsh about his lack of knowledge about the game. It didn't help that Aditya kept making critical comments about the game.
"I discovered a bug," he announced, and proceeded to demonstrate it. "Look, when the car hits the wall, it goes through it instead of crashing against it!" and he banged his car repeatedly against the wall until it did go through.
"Saale, tu yahaan testing karne aaya hai ki game khelne? (Are you here for testing or for playing the game?)" demanded Harsh, his eyes glued to the projector screen.
I laughed and laughed. They kept jibing each other good-naturedly throughout the game, and I laughed till I almost lost my balance off my precarious perch. Ruchica, all this while, kept her cool, and managed to win the games simply by coasting through the maze.
In between listening to the two bicker, I looked around the room as well. People were playing all kinds of games. Christian was busy with some anime-looking game, and Donald and another Graphics student, Peter Djeu, were playing another anime-looking game. I think I'd die of humiliation if those guys ever found out I called the games "that anime-looking game"; but I really don't know one of them from the other. On another end of the room, Thomas and Joel were also playing some game. Guitar Hero was still in full flow, and at some point, I heard someone switch to a Muse song. The mood in the room was very exciting, very upbeat.
We played all the way till 10pm. We had thought that we might need to pack up by 8:30, if no one showed up -- but game night was an official success! I don't think the people wanted to leave at 10. I was exhausted, for it had been a long day, and my right arm was sore from playing Wii Tennis as though my life depended on it. Finally, at 10pm, we all ended game night, and returned back to our dreary lives.
I returned to my "office" -- it's actually Ruchica's office, but I've claimed it as my own :) and plonked myself on the chair I've claimed as well (I've claimed an unusually large number of things in that room), and felt my life force seeping out of me. Well, not really -- but I was seriously exhausted. When I returned home that night, I couldn't lift my right arm to wash my face, and the next day, I seriously thought about getting a sling, my right arm was so stiff with pain. But it was worth every moment of Game Night!! Game Night was an official success, and I sure hope we have more of them!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
A German Adventure - Part III
(continued from last time)
The next morning, I woke to see the sun filtering in gently through the filmy curtains. I yawned, stretched, wondered vaguely why I had filmy curtains on my window -- and sat up with a jerk when I remembered the adventures of last night. I looked around the room. Yep, the whole thing hadn't been a dream -- I was still very much in Frankfurt. However, something had cooled my temper and anxiety -- probably the fact that I had, for the first time in three months, slept for more than 5 hours at a stretch. I felt relaxed, and ready to face whatever the world threw at me. With this resolve in mind, I freshened up, and went downstairs for breakfast.
I went with Anita, the girl from San Jose I'd met the previous day. She was accompanied by a hell-like woman who insisted on making her order for everything, claiming she didn't know English (Bull. How would she have made it to the United States otherwise?) The three of us went downstairs to the French restaurant. It was adorable, and I felt like spending the rest of the day there. We were seated next to a glass wall, where we could see out onto the cobble-stoned street outside. People dressed warmly walked past, breath misting in the cold air. There was a sprig of beautiful wild pink flowers just outside the restaurant window, and lent a touch of color to the gray scene outside. In the distance were some tall buildings, which reminded me of Bombay. I loved it. The scene looked very much like my imagery of "Europe".
After the meal was over, we wondered what to do. I went over to the reception, and asked for a pin converter. I had discovered, the previous night, that there was a 110V outlet in my room, but unfortunately, it needed a pin converter. I got that, and went upstairs to my room to leave my laptop to charge up, and went downstairs again.
There were a bunch of people accumulated there, all from Air India, all hollering at each other, rumors floating in the air. Some people said that the flight would leave later that night. Some said we were stuck there till December 26th. Some said we'd be sent back to Chicago. It was crazy, and I made a face and tried exploring the hotel. It was pretty, no doubt about that. The reception was tastefully decorated, and there was Christmas decoration all over the place. I loved the two Christmas trees, and the gingerbread house, complete with a gingerbread crow on the chimney!
Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. A bunch of us decided to eat lunch together, and searched for a place to eat. We finally decided on the quaint Italian bistro in the hotel, and accordingly, went there. I looked over the menu, and finally decided on a turkey wrap and a cup of mandarin oranges with yogurt. The German waitress asked me anxiously, "Iss goot?" I smiled at her. "It's good," I assured her, and she went away, pleased. I felt myself laze, and even managed to forget the fact that I was stuck in a foreign country, where English was not the main language, for God knew how long, and in a way that was cutting into my vacation time at home. I felt at peace after the meal. I even managed to order a huge chunk of blackforest cake and an enormous cup of latte, and a bottle of water to finish it all off, while the other passengers looked at me, astonished. One of them even asked me, "How do you eat all that and still remain so tiny?" But my hurt look made him hurriedly change the topic!
Outside, the street was busy. There was a tram station right outside on the street, and green trams arrived every five minutes, so so it seemed to me. People thronged the street, Hamburger Allee. Cars drove past -- cars! Sleek, elegant German cars that made me drool. Every fourth car seemed to be an Audi. The light changed over the scene as the sun made its way across the horizon. I watched the scene, entranced, until the waitress came over the clear our table. Some of the people suggested a quick tour of the town, but I had to turn down the proposition, as I didn't want to catch pneumonia traveling in the cold Frankfurt night with nothing warmer than a hooded sweatshirt. I, instead, decided to go back to my room.
I exited the bistro, and saw a huge crowd at the reception -- all passengers from Air India. I went over and joined the crowd, and at the center of it all, discovered one of the Air India crew, trying to be heard over the noise. Finally, I got the gist of what he was saying: Air India had been unable to fix the busted engines of the airplane we had arrived in, so a relief aircraft was being flown in from Calcutta. It would arrive in Frankfurt early tomorrow morning, and we would set off sometime around 8:30am. In the meantime, to keep us busy, we had 10 minutes to talk to anyone anywhere in the world over the phone, and two hours of free internet access. The second option was what uplifted me.
I went to the elevator, and pressed the button for the 38th floor. Also inside the elevator was a pilot in uniform, a tall, rangy blond man. He kept looking at me, and after we'd gone up some ten floors, he pointed at me, and said: "Longhorn?"
My jaw dropped, and I gave him a grin of pure delight, while making the hook-em sign with my hand. He grinned at me, made the same sign, and got off at the 35th floor, while I continued on to the 38th. I retired to my room, and with something resembling a yell of joy, went to my favorite website -- Google. The internet! I realized for the first time how much I relied on it. I checked everything I could, trying to make sure I spent every minute of the two hours wisely. I checked my mail in every mail server I have an account on -- Gmail, Yahoo, Hotmail, AOL, even the UT server. I checked my Facebook page and wrote back to some people who had scribbled on my wall. I looked up my grades on UT Direct, and emailed a professor about them. I checked my bank account, and was delighted to discover that the call to India the day before had cost me only $10, and I had moreover just received my paycheck for December, so I had nothing to worry about, financially. I felt relaxed after the bout of internet-surfing, and called my parents to let them know of the updates about the flight situation. After all that, I packed up my backpack, and went down for dinner.
Dinner was again at the Champions Bar. This time, I actually felt a little sad that I would never see the place again. I'd grown fond of Frankfurt, for in spite of the incompetence of Air India, I had spent a good two days here. I had a hearty dinner, finished it off with apple strudel, and went up to my room. Grad school has given me the ability to doze of anywhere, anytime, for any number of hours, and wake up not feeling like a zombie, so I woke after three hours, feeling reasonably refreshed. I went downstairs, and saw all the other passengers accumulated in the lobby. I checked out, had a last cup of coffee, returned the pin converter, bid the cheerful receptionist goodbye, and went out to the bus for the trip to the airport. When it was full, the bus glided through the dark, empty streets, with a gaslight-like glow from the street lamps, giving it a surreal look. I bade a mental goodbye to Germany, and we left the city of Frankfurt, and landed back at Frankfurt Flughafen.
Again, there was Air India incompetence at work. Although they'd summoned us at 6am, there was no one manning the counters, but we had grown so used to it, we didn't even complain. We stood in an enormously serpentine queue, waiting for it to dissipate. Finally, the check-in counters opened, and people started checking in. I went through check-in and security, losing my bottle of water in the process. An old security guard at the security check remarked on the number of books in my backpack, "You like to read!" I gave him a grin, and went through.
Finally, feeling as though it were all a dream, I was on the plane. It was a smaller one than the one we'd come on -- it was a 777 -- and much nicer than the 747 we'd arrived in. As I watched, it started snowing outside, and the world grew white. Finally, unable to keep my eyes open, I dozed off. I woke up at 10:30, to the announcement that we were about to take off, so please fasten your seatbelts. Mine was already fastened, so I sat back, and felt the engine purr outside. The plane started moving. It moved faster and faster, till it was gliding over the runway, and then suddenly, with a little bump, it was in the air. A great whoop of joy went up from all the passengers, and the atmosphere in the plane lightened considerably. I gave a grin that stretched my mouth from ear to ear, and opened up my manga -- I could read it now!
The two movies running were the irritating Bratz, and an obscure The Last Legion, so I closed my eyes, and dreamed of home. I guess I must've fallen fast asleep, for when I woke up, it was 4:00pm German time -- we'd be landing in under two hours! I cleared the cobwebs from my brain, shook off my sleep, and resumed reading my manga, the iPod in my ears, the battery dangerously low by now. The stewardess came over with food, which I gobbled down somehow, suddenly caring for nothing more than to meet my parents and my sister. The plane droned on through the night, with faint patches of light far below the only indications that we were passing over civilization.
Finally -- finally! -- the pilot announced that we were about to land in Mumbai -- at which a cheer went up from the crowd again. The crew started bringing over customs forms, which I filled with alacrity. My breath actually shortened when the plane started losing altitude, and I strained to look out of the window. And there it was! The bright yellow and white lighting of Bombay! Well, of any other city, but I knew it was Bombay. We flew over the ocean, and then swooped back over the mainland, the ground approaching us at breakneck speed. The ground came closer and closer, there was a little thump -- and we were on ground! The engines strained to slow us down, and the plane coasted over to the airbridge -- and we had landed! The doors opened, and I was one of the first ones out, flying out of the aircraft as though it were on fire. I practically ran through the airport, noting immediately, the warmth, humidity, and the smell -- I knew I was back home! I had to wait for ages at Customs, and then again at the baggage check, but finally, with baggage in hand, I made my way out, and saw my parents and my sister! My joy was unbounded, and I fear I scared quite a few people waiting there -- they probably thought I was some species of a wild animal. But I was delighted -- after the long -- loooong! -- trip from Austin to Chicago to Frankfurt to Mumbai, I had finally made it back home!! And, it might have delayed me a lot, but thanks to Air India's incompetence, I got to see a beautiful new city!
The next morning, I woke to see the sun filtering in gently through the filmy curtains. I yawned, stretched, wondered vaguely why I had filmy curtains on my window -- and sat up with a jerk when I remembered the adventures of last night. I looked around the room. Yep, the whole thing hadn't been a dream -- I was still very much in Frankfurt. However, something had cooled my temper and anxiety -- probably the fact that I had, for the first time in three months, slept for more than 5 hours at a stretch. I felt relaxed, and ready to face whatever the world threw at me. With this resolve in mind, I freshened up, and went downstairs for breakfast.
I went with Anita, the girl from San Jose I'd met the previous day. She was accompanied by a hell-like woman who insisted on making her order for everything, claiming she didn't know English (Bull. How would she have made it to the United States otherwise?) The three of us went downstairs to the French restaurant. It was adorable, and I felt like spending the rest of the day there. We were seated next to a glass wall, where we could see out onto the cobble-stoned street outside. People dressed warmly walked past, breath misting in the cold air. There was a sprig of beautiful wild pink flowers just outside the restaurant window, and lent a touch of color to the gray scene outside. In the distance were some tall buildings, which reminded me of Bombay. I loved it. The scene looked very much like my imagery of "Europe".After the meal was over, we wondered what to do. I went over to the reception, and asked for a pin converter. I had discovered, the previous night, that there was a 110V outlet in my room, but unfortunately, it needed a pin converter. I got that, and went upstairs to my room to leave my laptop to charge up, and went downstairs again.
There were a bunch of people accumulated there, all from Air India, all hollering at each other, rumors floating in the air. Some people said that the flight would leave later that night. Some said we were stuck there till December 26th. Some said we'd be sent back to Chicago. It was crazy, and I made a face and tried exploring the hotel. It was pretty, no doubt about that. The reception was tastefully decorated, and there was Christmas decoration all over the place. I loved the two Christmas trees, and the gingerbread house, complete with a gingerbread crow on the chimney!
Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. A bunch of us decided to eat lunch together, and searched for a place to eat. We finally decided on the quaint Italian bistro in the hotel, and accordingly, went there. I looked over the menu, and finally decided on a turkey wrap and a cup of mandarin oranges with yogurt. The German waitress asked me anxiously, "Iss goot?" I smiled at her. "It's good," I assured her, and she went away, pleased. I felt myself laze, and even managed to forget the fact that I was stuck in a foreign country, where English was not the main language, for God knew how long, and in a way that was cutting into my vacation time at home. I felt at peace after the meal. I even managed to order a huge chunk of blackforest cake and an enormous cup of latte, and a bottle of water to finish it all off, while the other passengers looked at me, astonished. One of them even asked me, "How do you eat all that and still remain so tiny?" But my hurt look made him hurriedly change the topic!
Outside, the street was busy. There was a tram station right outside on the street, and green trams arrived every five minutes, so so it seemed to me. People thronged the street, Hamburger Allee. Cars drove past -- cars! Sleek, elegant German cars that made me drool. Every fourth car seemed to be an Audi. The light changed over the scene as the sun made its way across the horizon. I watched the scene, entranced, until the waitress came over the clear our table. Some of the people suggested a quick tour of the town, but I had to turn down the proposition, as I didn't want to catch pneumonia traveling in the cold Frankfurt night with nothing warmer than a hooded sweatshirt. I, instead, decided to go back to my room.
I exited the bistro, and saw a huge crowd at the reception -- all passengers from Air India. I went over and joined the crowd, and at the center of it all, discovered one of the Air India crew, trying to be heard over the noise. Finally, I got the gist of what he was saying: Air India had been unable to fix the busted engines of the airplane we had arrived in, so a relief aircraft was being flown in from Calcutta. It would arrive in Frankfurt early tomorrow morning, and we would set off sometime around 8:30am. In the meantime, to keep us busy, we had 10 minutes to talk to anyone anywhere in the world over the phone, and two hours of free internet access. The second option was what uplifted me.
I went to the elevator, and pressed the button for the 38th floor. Also inside the elevator was a pilot in uniform, a tall, rangy blond man. He kept looking at me, and after we'd gone up some ten floors, he pointed at me, and said: "Longhorn?"
My jaw dropped, and I gave him a grin of pure delight, while making the hook-em sign with my hand. He grinned at me, made the same sign, and got off at the 35th floor, while I continued on to the 38th. I retired to my room, and with something resembling a yell of joy, went to my favorite website -- Google. The internet! I realized for the first time how much I relied on it. I checked everything I could, trying to make sure I spent every minute of the two hours wisely. I checked my mail in every mail server I have an account on -- Gmail, Yahoo, Hotmail, AOL, even the UT server. I checked my Facebook page and wrote back to some people who had scribbled on my wall. I looked up my grades on UT Direct, and emailed a professor about them. I checked my bank account, and was delighted to discover that the call to India the day before had cost me only $10, and I had moreover just received my paycheck for December, so I had nothing to worry about, financially. I felt relaxed after the bout of internet-surfing, and called my parents to let them know of the updates about the flight situation. After all that, I packed up my backpack, and went down for dinner.
Dinner was again at the Champions Bar. This time, I actually felt a little sad that I would never see the place again. I'd grown fond of Frankfurt, for in spite of the incompetence of Air India, I had spent a good two days here. I had a hearty dinner, finished it off with apple strudel, and went up to my room. Grad school has given me the ability to doze of anywhere, anytime, for any number of hours, and wake up not feeling like a zombie, so I woke after three hours, feeling reasonably refreshed. I went downstairs, and saw all the other passengers accumulated in the lobby. I checked out, had a last cup of coffee, returned the pin converter, bid the cheerful receptionist goodbye, and went out to the bus for the trip to the airport. When it was full, the bus glided through the dark, empty streets, with a gaslight-like glow from the street lamps, giving it a surreal look. I bade a mental goodbye to Germany, and we left the city of Frankfurt, and landed back at Frankfurt Flughafen.
Again, there was Air India incompetence at work. Although they'd summoned us at 6am, there was no one manning the counters, but we had grown so used to it, we didn't even complain. We stood in an enormously serpentine queue, waiting for it to dissipate. Finally, the check-in counters opened, and people started checking in. I went through check-in and security, losing my bottle of water in the process. An old security guard at the security check remarked on the number of books in my backpack, "You like to read!" I gave him a grin, and went through.
Finally, feeling as though it were all a dream, I was on the plane. It was a smaller one than the one we'd come on -- it was a 777 -- and much nicer than the 747 we'd arrived in. As I watched, it started snowing outside, and the world grew white. Finally, unable to keep my eyes open, I dozed off. I woke up at 10:30, to the announcement that we were about to take off, so please fasten your seatbelts. Mine was already fastened, so I sat back, and felt the engine purr outside. The plane started moving. It moved faster and faster, till it was gliding over the runway, and then suddenly, with a little bump, it was in the air. A great whoop of joy went up from all the passengers, and the atmosphere in the plane lightened considerably. I gave a grin that stretched my mouth from ear to ear, and opened up my manga -- I could read it now!
The two movies running were the irritating Bratz, and an obscure The Last Legion, so I closed my eyes, and dreamed of home. I guess I must've fallen fast asleep, for when I woke up, it was 4:00pm German time -- we'd be landing in under two hours! I cleared the cobwebs from my brain, shook off my sleep, and resumed reading my manga, the iPod in my ears, the battery dangerously low by now. The stewardess came over with food, which I gobbled down somehow, suddenly caring for nothing more than to meet my parents and my sister. The plane droned on through the night, with faint patches of light far below the only indications that we were passing over civilization.
Finally -- finally! -- the pilot announced that we were about to land in Mumbai -- at which a cheer went up from the crowd again. The crew started bringing over customs forms, which I filled with alacrity. My breath actually shortened when the plane started losing altitude, and I strained to look out of the window. And there it was! The bright yellow and white lighting of Bombay! Well, of any other city, but I knew it was Bombay. We flew over the ocean, and then swooped back over the mainland, the ground approaching us at breakneck speed. The ground came closer and closer, there was a little thump -- and we were on ground! The engines strained to slow us down, and the plane coasted over to the airbridge -- and we had landed! The doors opened, and I was one of the first ones out, flying out of the aircraft as though it were on fire. I practically ran through the airport, noting immediately, the warmth, humidity, and the smell -- I knew I was back home! I had to wait for ages at Customs, and then again at the baggage check, but finally, with baggage in hand, I made my way out, and saw my parents and my sister! My joy was unbounded, and I fear I scared quite a few people waiting there -- they probably thought I was some species of a wild animal. But I was delighted -- after the long -- loooong! -- trip from Austin to Chicago to Frankfurt to Mumbai, I had finally made it back home!! And, it might have delayed me a lot, but thanks to Air India's incompetence, I got to see a beautiful new city!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A German Adventure - Part II
(continued from last time)
We were all happy to be let out of Frankfurt Flughafen. I was heartily sick of reading the Fraport signs all over the airport. I had stopped listening to my iPod because who knew how long we'd be stuck in Frankfurt? And I didn't want the battery to get exhausted -- Apple claims that the battery of an iPod nano lasts for 24 hours, but I didn't want to test that out. 8 hours of those 24 hours had already been exhausted, and I could see the faintest sliver of gray next to the green in the battery icon. I was reading my book at snail's pace, because I didn't want to finish the book -- what would I do once I'd finished it? I would only have the mangas to read after that, and it really doesn't take long to finish a manga. The longest I've taken is two hours, and that's only because I stopped for an hour in between to do something. So there I was, tired, exhausted, sleep-deprived, tetchy, irritated, and wanting, more than anything, to go back home.
And then one of the passengers from Air India called out to tell us that the German government was granting us temporary visas!
The line to the visa post formed faster than guests lining up for food at a wedding. One minute the hallway was deserted, the next, full. And, what annoyed me to no end, people kept cutting into the line. I forced myself to relax and not snap at people. My favorite couple, the old ones from Hyderabad cut into the line someplace ahead of me, and were looking around. Thankfully, they didn't spot me, though my hiding behind the fat gentleman in front may have had something to do with the fact.
We inched forward. We had to go through security check, where my bottle of orange juice got thrown away. I forgot to remove my iPod from my pocket the first time I went through, and set off the alarms, and trudged back wearily to the line to put it into the crate. When we were finally cleared, we formed a massive group at a window that said Bundespolizei, with Federal Police written underneath it. Some of the Bundespolizei came forward to shepherd us into a line, strong blond men in blue uniforms. It seemed to me everybody in Germany was blond!
We stood while our names were called. Finally, mine was, and I glowered at the camera. The German official photographing me gave me an encouraging smile -- I wondered whether I looked like I was about to burst into tears? Finally, the formalities out of the way, there was nothing to do but wait. And wait we did. I reunited with the two Shrutis and Anita, and we laughed together a bit. Actually, that was where I found out that one of the Shrutis had been a classmate of a friend of mine at UT. We waited for the better part of an hour, swapping stories about our lives back in the US. Anita worked at a firm in San Jose, she had just moved there from Delloitte Consulting. One of the Shrutis had just graduated with a Masters in Biotechnology from someplace in Boston, I think, while the other one was at USC, studying Computer Science, like me. A fellow computer scientist! I was briefly interested, but was too exhausted to discuss courses, which is the normal thing you discuss with a fellow CS student. Of course, when you're a full-fledged computer scientist, I guess you discuss deeper matters, like the efficiency of randomized algorithms over regular ones. I wasn't in the mood to discuss either. I slumped against a wall, listening to the other older girls chat amongst themselves -- I was the youngest in the group.
Finally, we were announced free to go. I got back my passport, adorned with a blue stamp declaring me as a transit passenger allowed into Germany for two days. I sighed, collected my passport from the (blond) policeman, and stood again in line to file out of the airport. Lines! I was starting to hate lines. We stood out for a while till the bus arrived to take us to the airport. It was -5 degrees Celsius, and all I had on was a black hoodie with Texas written across the front in the signature burnt orange. And regular clothes, of course! I didn't have any other warm clothing with me, all of that being relegated to my check-in baggage in Austin. I shivered, but told myself that I'd endured colder days in Austin, I could stand it! The freezing wind crept into the neck of my sweatshirt and into my T-shirt, chilling me to the bone. Finally the bus arrived! I sat in it, and waited while the other passengers made their way to their seats, little arguments erupting even on the bus as to who would sit where. For God's sake, I thought wearily, are they adults or aren't they? I thought briefly of my apartment in Austin, which was probably sitting alone and forlorn right now. I thought of my parents waiting for me in Bombay, and felt another wave of weariness roll through me. I just wanted to go home! Frankfurt was nice, but it wasn't home!
After the arguments between the passengers threatened to erupt into a full-blown knock-down-drag-out fight, the bus driver hurriedly declared the bus full and rolled away from the airport. The bus glided out of the airport, and onto the streets of Frankfurt. And while the roads outside the airport were broad and large, the ones inside the city were what European streets are rumored to be -- narrow, and surrounded by buildings. It was beautiful, though -- very beautiful indeed. The streets were dark at this time of night, with street lamps providing golden illumination and making the streets glow. There were too many Deutsche Bank boards on the way to count, and lots of things written in German which I didn't comprehend. Finally we pulled up at a sort of city square, and were told to go to the Marriott across the street. Hamburger Allee, we later learnt, was the name of the street. On the square was a large board advertising various events happening in Frankfurt over the winter, and the first one made my eyes go huge -- a Linkin Park concert! I looked at the date, and my eyes popped even more -- 20th! It was the 20th there, albeit almost over. Then I looked at the month -- and sighed.
20/1/08 was the date. A month from then. Just my luck! I'd been pondering if I could go to the concert and put it on the Air India tab (I felt vicious enough to do just that), but it obviously wasn't possible now.
We crossed the street, and finally entered the lobby of the Marriott. It was tastefully decorated, as all Marriotts are, and a cheerful man named....hmm, I've forgotten, something like Heinrich or something, greeted us at the counter.
Our registrations were processed quickly, thank goodness. I was starting to feel like I couldn't stand on my feet much longer. I grabbed the room key from Heinrich -- I was assigned room 3807 -- and waited for Anita and the Shrutis to get done, so we could all go up together. Anita and I were assigned rooms across the hallway, so we told each other to let the other one know if something came up. And I retired to my room.
It was a pleasant one, with, what pleased me, a 110V electric socket, so I could use my laptop! Unfortunately, it had a European 3-pin socket, and I definitely couldn't fit the plug of my charger into that. So I let it go, and let my backpack slide off my shoulders, and fell into the bed. It was thick and springy, and I could feel the tiredness creep out of my bones. After sometime of lying there like a corpse, I finally mustered enough courage to explore around the room. I freshened up in the bathroom, and went and peeped outside the window for a view of the outside world. It was dark outside, but the lights on the streets were visible as a bright golden snake far, far below. I turned away, and went out and knocked on Anita's door.
"Heard anything?" I asked.
"Not about the flight," she said, "But there's a dinner for us."
I went down with her, pleased. I've always wanted to try German cuisine. I went to the restaurant indicated, looked at the menu, and felt my jaw drop. It was American! Burgers and fries and Caesar salads and chicken tenders, all out of an American bar. I half expected to see chicken enchiladas on the menu. Stunned, I closed the menu card to look at the name of the restaurant. Champions' Bar, it said, adorned with the picture of a baseball player. I closed my eyes.
"What are the odds," I said, turning to Anita, "That we would get stuck in Germany, and then walk into a restaurant, and find the same dinner we eat every night?"
She laughed. "Low, indeed," she said.
Another man sitting with us informed us that this was the largest Champions' Bar in Europe. I looked around. It didn't look all that massive to me, but then, maybe things are smaller in Europe. The waiter came up to us, and asked us if we wanted any drinks. Everyone ordered their stuff. I had a hard time explaining mine.
"A Bailey's Irish Cream," I told him.
He was confused. "Bailey's?" he said.
"Irish Cream?"
"Bailey's Irish Cream?"
"Yeah, that's right!" I beamed.
"Do you mean Bailey's Irish coffee?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, thinking if that's what I wanted, why would I ask for an Irish Cream, moron?
"Irish Cream," I emphasized the latter part.
"We don't have that," he said, still confused. He called out to his friend behind the bar. "Hey, Michael, do we have Bailey's Irish Cream?"
"I don't think so," his pal replied. "Do you mean Irish coffee?"
"No!" I called back. "Irish cream!"
"No, we don't have that," said Michael, shaking his head. He brightened up. "But we can give you Irish coffee if you want it!"
"No thanks," I said, making a face. Coffee? At what was then 1:30am? Give me a break!
Then the waiter interjected, "But if you just want a Bailey's, we can give you that," he said.
"Yeah, that would be good," I said, and the moment he was gone, leaned against the table, my energy sapped. When the drink came, I was so exhausted, I almost gulped it down in one go -- and felt my head swim. I slowed down after that, but I couldn't deny, it was really good. I ordered something after that, I don't remember what -- pesto pasta, I think -- and retired to my room for the night. The first night in Frankfurt! And I remember hoping it would be the last as I sank into the depths of sleep, the last thing on my mental retina being the pale lights filtering in through the filmy curtains on the window...
(to be continued....)
We were all happy to be let out of Frankfurt Flughafen. I was heartily sick of reading the Fraport signs all over the airport. I had stopped listening to my iPod because who knew how long we'd be stuck in Frankfurt? And I didn't want the battery to get exhausted -- Apple claims that the battery of an iPod nano lasts for 24 hours, but I didn't want to test that out. 8 hours of those 24 hours had already been exhausted, and I could see the faintest sliver of gray next to the green in the battery icon. I was reading my book at snail's pace, because I didn't want to finish the book -- what would I do once I'd finished it? I would only have the mangas to read after that, and it really doesn't take long to finish a manga. The longest I've taken is two hours, and that's only because I stopped for an hour in between to do something. So there I was, tired, exhausted, sleep-deprived, tetchy, irritated, and wanting, more than anything, to go back home.
And then one of the passengers from Air India called out to tell us that the German government was granting us temporary visas!
The line to the visa post formed faster than guests lining up for food at a wedding. One minute the hallway was deserted, the next, full. And, what annoyed me to no end, people kept cutting into the line. I forced myself to relax and not snap at people. My favorite couple, the old ones from Hyderabad cut into the line someplace ahead of me, and were looking around. Thankfully, they didn't spot me, though my hiding behind the fat gentleman in front may have had something to do with the fact.
We inched forward. We had to go through security check, where my bottle of orange juice got thrown away. I forgot to remove my iPod from my pocket the first time I went through, and set off the alarms, and trudged back wearily to the line to put it into the crate. When we were finally cleared, we formed a massive group at a window that said Bundespolizei, with Federal Police written underneath it. Some of the Bundespolizei came forward to shepherd us into a line, strong blond men in blue uniforms. It seemed to me everybody in Germany was blond!
We stood while our names were called. Finally, mine was, and I glowered at the camera. The German official photographing me gave me an encouraging smile -- I wondered whether I looked like I was about to burst into tears? Finally, the formalities out of the way, there was nothing to do but wait. And wait we did. I reunited with the two Shrutis and Anita, and we laughed together a bit. Actually, that was where I found out that one of the Shrutis had been a classmate of a friend of mine at UT. We waited for the better part of an hour, swapping stories about our lives back in the US. Anita worked at a firm in San Jose, she had just moved there from Delloitte Consulting. One of the Shrutis had just graduated with a Masters in Biotechnology from someplace in Boston, I think, while the other one was at USC, studying Computer Science, like me. A fellow computer scientist! I was briefly interested, but was too exhausted to discuss courses, which is the normal thing you discuss with a fellow CS student. Of course, when you're a full-fledged computer scientist, I guess you discuss deeper matters, like the efficiency of randomized algorithms over regular ones. I wasn't in the mood to discuss either. I slumped against a wall, listening to the other older girls chat amongst themselves -- I was the youngest in the group.
Finally, we were announced free to go. I got back my passport, adorned with a blue stamp declaring me as a transit passenger allowed into Germany for two days. I sighed, collected my passport from the (blond) policeman, and stood again in line to file out of the airport. Lines! I was starting to hate lines. We stood out for a while till the bus arrived to take us to the airport. It was -5 degrees Celsius, and all I had on was a black hoodie with Texas written across the front in the signature burnt orange. And regular clothes, of course! I didn't have any other warm clothing with me, all of that being relegated to my check-in baggage in Austin. I shivered, but told myself that I'd endured colder days in Austin, I could stand it! The freezing wind crept into the neck of my sweatshirt and into my T-shirt, chilling me to the bone. Finally the bus arrived! I sat in it, and waited while the other passengers made their way to their seats, little arguments erupting even on the bus as to who would sit where. For God's sake, I thought wearily, are they adults or aren't they? I thought briefly of my apartment in Austin, which was probably sitting alone and forlorn right now. I thought of my parents waiting for me in Bombay, and felt another wave of weariness roll through me. I just wanted to go home! Frankfurt was nice, but it wasn't home!
After the arguments between the passengers threatened to erupt into a full-blown knock-down-drag-out fight, the bus driver hurriedly declared the bus full and rolled away from the airport. The bus glided out of the airport, and onto the streets of Frankfurt. And while the roads outside the airport were broad and large, the ones inside the city were what European streets are rumored to be -- narrow, and surrounded by buildings. It was beautiful, though -- very beautiful indeed. The streets were dark at this time of night, with street lamps providing golden illumination and making the streets glow. There were too many Deutsche Bank boards on the way to count, and lots of things written in German which I didn't comprehend. Finally we pulled up at a sort of city square, and were told to go to the Marriott across the street. Hamburger Allee, we later learnt, was the name of the street. On the square was a large board advertising various events happening in Frankfurt over the winter, and the first one made my eyes go huge -- a Linkin Park concert! I looked at the date, and my eyes popped even more -- 20th! It was the 20th there, albeit almost over. Then I looked at the month -- and sighed.
20/1/08 was the date. A month from then. Just my luck! I'd been pondering if I could go to the concert and put it on the Air India tab (I felt vicious enough to do just that), but it obviously wasn't possible now.We crossed the street, and finally entered the lobby of the Marriott. It was tastefully decorated, as all Marriotts are, and a cheerful man named....hmm, I've forgotten, something like Heinrich or something, greeted us at the counter.
Our registrations were processed quickly, thank goodness. I was starting to feel like I couldn't stand on my feet much longer. I grabbed the room key from Heinrich -- I was assigned room 3807 -- and waited for Anita and the Shrutis to get done, so we could all go up together. Anita and I were assigned rooms across the hallway, so we told each other to let the other one know if something came up. And I retired to my room.
It was a pleasant one, with, what pleased me, a 110V electric socket, so I could use my laptop! Unfortunately, it had a European 3-pin socket, and I definitely couldn't fit the plug of my charger into that. So I let it go, and let my backpack slide off my shoulders, and fell into the bed. It was thick and springy, and I could feel the tiredness creep out of my bones. After sometime of lying there like a corpse, I finally mustered enough courage to explore around the room. I freshened up in the bathroom, and went and peeped outside the window for a view of the outside world. It was dark outside, but the lights on the streets were visible as a bright golden snake far, far below. I turned away, and went out and knocked on Anita's door.
"Heard anything?" I asked.
"Not about the flight," she said, "But there's a dinner for us."
I went down with her, pleased. I've always wanted to try German cuisine. I went to the restaurant indicated, looked at the menu, and felt my jaw drop. It was American! Burgers and fries and Caesar salads and chicken tenders, all out of an American bar. I half expected to see chicken enchiladas on the menu. Stunned, I closed the menu card to look at the name of the restaurant. Champions' Bar, it said, adorned with the picture of a baseball player. I closed my eyes.
"What are the odds," I said, turning to Anita, "That we would get stuck in Germany, and then walk into a restaurant, and find the same dinner we eat every night?"
She laughed. "Low, indeed," she said.
Another man sitting with us informed us that this was the largest Champions' Bar in Europe. I looked around. It didn't look all that massive to me, but then, maybe things are smaller in Europe. The waiter came up to us, and asked us if we wanted any drinks. Everyone ordered their stuff. I had a hard time explaining mine.
"A Bailey's Irish Cream," I told him.
He was confused. "Bailey's?" he said.
"Irish Cream?"
"Bailey's Irish Cream?"
"Yeah, that's right!" I beamed.
"Do you mean Bailey's Irish coffee?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, thinking if that's what I wanted, why would I ask for an Irish Cream, moron?
"Irish Cream," I emphasized the latter part.
"We don't have that," he said, still confused. He called out to his friend behind the bar. "Hey, Michael, do we have Bailey's Irish Cream?"
"I don't think so," his pal replied. "Do you mean Irish coffee?"
"No!" I called back. "Irish cream!"
"No, we don't have that," said Michael, shaking his head. He brightened up. "But we can give you Irish coffee if you want it!"
"No thanks," I said, making a face. Coffee? At what was then 1:30am? Give me a break!
Then the waiter interjected, "But if you just want a Bailey's, we can give you that," he said.
"Yeah, that would be good," I said, and the moment he was gone, leaned against the table, my energy sapped. When the drink came, I was so exhausted, I almost gulped it down in one go -- and felt my head swim. I slowed down after that, but I couldn't deny, it was really good. I ordered something after that, I don't remember what -- pesto pasta, I think -- and retired to my room for the night. The first night in Frankfurt! And I remember hoping it would be the last as I sank into the depths of sleep, the last thing on my mental retina being the pale lights filtering in through the filmy curtains on the window...
(to be continued....)
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