Escapading.

Time for leaf blowers and pumpkin spice lattes. Gorgeous colors and pea coats. Slumbers, Strolls and singing songs. Packing up and going away. To caves of winds and wax museums. Falling in love with U2 again. Beautiful day, it is indeed. What would I give to see China right in front of me and the world in green and blue.

I’m not letting this day get away.

Rush-die

Rushdie catches all the dream demons in me and gives them a whirl. Toys with them, teases them and gets their tongues-a-flapping. Enraged, excited, incensed, they come and whisper dream inducing nothings in my ear, dragging me into their abyss. The withered words they conjure up are entwined with a glimmer of magic, a thread of mysticism. The filth they serve keeps me in a vice-like grip, enchanting me with fresh possibilities thrown in with trashed, much used and hated commonalities. And when the yellow feverish heat of their tales finally fades, I am left in a sticky web, that other nether-world, where I dream of hearing words never thought, create delirious scenarios that torment me with their unnatural longevity.

Questions and Answers

Some questions just have to be asked. Much to the consternation of others.

Vegas was, well, Vegas. Lights, shows and extravagance. The desert sun is unbelievably unforgiving. Alcohol feels more dehydating in Vegas than anywhere else. Though Madras Mojitos rank now top in my book :)

Casinos are filled with fat, lazy people, drowsily/drunkenly (however you choose to look at it) clicking on buttons, hypnotized by the flashy lights. They make you think of life without hope, without purpose, devoid of any emotion. Like mindless robots.

Gambling doesn't appeal to me in any way. Money is of no matter. Went to a Vegas style vampire show with girls too skinny for my taste.

Watched a circus performance like no other. Mystere was mind blowingly amazing. I did not know it was humanly possible to contort the body in such ways, nor did it strike me that being fancy pants once in a while would make me smile so.

Best part about the trip, though, was the long bus ride with a tour guide who spouted jokes which were woven tightly into his routine, and the Grand Canyon.

Veeri, Aggie, we need to make this trip. This December. Save up children.

Also, fridge magnets are now my thing.

San Frikkin Cisco

Arrived at San Fran hungry. Of all the places we could have chosen, went to the nearest Indian buffet. Tasted like home food. Not the mouth-watering, my granny's the best cook ever home food, the come home at 11 pm and eat a week old dal kind. The only redeeming factor was the kheer and the freezing gulab jamun.

Onto Golden Gate Bridge. A thousand photos and a very windy walk later, I was at peace.




Trying to find the crookedest street in the world involved more than 3 hours of driving with an unreasonably confused GPS.

Decided it was better done on foot. An unplanned walk up to Coit tower through steep stairs surrounded by teensy gardens and beautifully quaint houses later, I found my happy place.

A kind stranger gave us a map of SF, and we still couldn't find the elusive Lombard street. We were ready to give up when we spotted it.

Just how crooked can a street be? You have to see it to believe it.



San Fran just has to be done. Just has to. Even though I skipped all the art deco-y period stuff and most of the tourist-y places like Alcatraz, I felt like singing through it all.

It is one of the most beautifully quaint cities on earth. I will be going back, for sure.

I discovered I am a soft gooey traveler inside, complete with squeals at the sight of ancient moldings on downtown buildings. Might be all those hours of Lonely Planet. Then again, it might be San Francisco.

Possession

"What is it my dear?"

Ah, how can we bear it?"

Bear what?"

This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"

We can be quiet together, and pretend - since it is only the beginning - that we have all the time in the world."

And every day we shall have less. And then none."

Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?"

No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."

— A.S. Byatt