Eiffel Tower, Paris, 13th March 2010

Here I was, in Paris, the city of romance.

It was going good till it got better, saw the Louvre and had da Vinci's 'Monalisa' pose with me for a couple of snaps.

Everyone was just interested in visiting the Eiffel tower but I carefully manouevred things around to make sure we were only there after nightfall to experience the splendour of the night sky being lit up by the golden hue of the tower.

So, finally we were approaching the Eiffel Tower - we view it in the distance, resplendant in its brilliant yellow lighting.

As we get closer, lo and behold! The clock strikes 9 and the Tower starts glittering with 20000 bulbs synchronised to stud the gold with sparkling diamonds for the next 5 mins.

This, we later discover, is an hourly extravaganza at that time of the night.

The view completely blows you off and leaves you with one everlasting expression - WOWWW !!!

Could there be a better sight on the planet - well if there is, I will be left speechless there.

You have obviously seen the monument umpteen times on your screens and on paper, but the actual view is beyond a parallel.

You gawk and gawk in amazement till you realise you are just 1 among 7 million visitors per year, so there is a long queue to be negotiated.

So there you stand overthrilled to visit the top level in a looong queue to buy tickets, with Indians aplenty giving you company.

You also have a flourishing market of Desi salesmen trying to use patriotism as a tool to sell you replicas of the Eiffel Tower, which you ofcourse disregard as frivolous.

Finally the ticket is bought and your excitement gets steeper as you are aboard the elevator that takes you to the 2nd level first. Winter has not left us and its freezing there with the wind leaving you scurrying for cover.

However nothing can deter the ultimate conquest and you reach the 3rd or top level at a height of about 300 m.

What you see from there makes you feel like the most fortunate person. You look down upon Paris in all its sparkling grandeur and it makes you haste into a free wheeling session of endless clicks of the camera.

Paris looks like a babe and you just want to keep gaping. 

You want to thank Gustav Eiffel for conceptualising and creating this gem and thank God for the gift of sight.

The River Seine flows gently past on one side accentuating the beauty of the place.

The cold wind is no more a deterrent by the time your heightened sense of excitement takes over.

Its believed that one of the purposes of the Eiffel Tower was to serve as a lighthouse for ships and boats on the river Seine and it still serves as a beacon of light with its magnificent beam powered right from the top.

However, now the primary function of the Tower seems to be of embellishment rather than enlightenment.

That prompts me to think that even the zillion camera flashlights from the top and bottom of Eiffel Tower must be lighting up the place by itself.

Due to the cruel speed of the ever ticking clock, we were supposed to make our way back down again. All of us grab a souvenir or two to forever remember this memorable visit.

With all the excitement, we all developed some appetite and headed to a crepe store near the Tower to grab a bite. After walking around the place for a fair amount of time to soak in the fervour, we decided to stick on for an extra 15 mins to ensure a final view of the sparkle at midnight.

There we sat on a bench, all eyes gazing upon the architectural masterpiece. The dazzling diamonds dance on the Tower once again and as they fizzle out, that's the end of the show for us. Thus ends a most memorable evening.

Makes you wonder, what would Paris be without the Eiffel Tower? Perhaps just as beautiful but definitely not as spectacular.

Barcelona - Sept 2010

Barcelona is a city of pleasant surprises and muted disappointments, atleast it was so for me..

Barcelona was a desired destination as soon as I arrived in Switzerland and was always on the agenda as one of the places I'd visit soon.

However, due to one or the other reason it kept getting pushed back so much so that when I finally got tickets booked to visit it, I was surprised thinking that I'm actually going there for real.

The train ride was a marathon exercise and took about 14 hrs overnight.

Somehow, Barca to me was always an essentially Spanish destination which in my mind was a close cousin to Italy and was supposed to be dirty, unsafe but spectacular..

When I reached Barcelona, I wasn't expecting a lot out of it suddenly.

We decided to explore the slim chances of landing tickets for the La Liga game at Camp Nou.

So we dashed to the stadium and wandered around a little till we finally got to the right counter and waited with bated breath to know if we would strike gold and grab tickets to watch one of the greatest teams assembled at the continent's greatest venue.

All the while we were setting limits to how much we were willing to splurge for the chance and luckily we got the tickets we wanted.

My joy was overflowing and I was thinking of people who would give an arm and a leg for such a chance.

Rishabh's name sprung to mind and I sent him this message being so full of myself.

Then I snooped around in the Barca megastore there and bought a few petty souvenirs.

It was past midday with the Sun beating down upon us and we drew up a tentative plan for the rest of the day. It basically revolved around the 6 pm game we were to watch.

We made our way to the Sagrada Familia Cathedral, which is the leading landmark of Barcelona.

It is an impressive structure made of stone and its spires towering in 4 sets of twins.

The architecture by Gaudi is avant garde and breathtaking in some details, but I was expecting something even more fascinating and was a touch disappointed looking at the interior which wasn't something I could appreciate.

We headed to our booked hostel from there and rested our tired legs for sometime.

It was getting closer to our big moment and rather than allow it to come onto us, we rushed towards it and reached the stadium well in advance such that we were seated an hour in advance for an extravaganza that was in itself for 90 mins.

The stadium was a delight to be in, with proper order and organization unlike the chaos one would see all around a cricket stadium in India.

I had to pinch myself to believe that I was actually there at Camp Nou !!

After a long wait and build up it was finally action time.

We were worried whether the stars would be playing, against the opponents who were considered unworthy of the stage by us.

The line up though was nothing short of World Class, boasting names such as Pique, Abidal, Valdes, Mascherano (Xavi 45'), Iniesta, David Villa, and the favourite son of Barca, Lionel Messi.

The game started well with the loudest cheers reserved for the slightest of touches by the nouvelle stars Mascherano and David Villa.

Barca were dominating when out of nowhere, Hercules (Valdez 26') struck a goal and the crowd was in disbelief.

Everyone was still pretty settled treating it as an aberration on way to another win at home for Barca.

The clock kept ticking and the anxiety mounted.

At 58 mins, tragedy stuck out its face when Hercules (Valdez again) counterattacked to take a 2-0 lead.

This was blasphemy and the crowd let out a collective shriek.

The tension got palpable and unbearable when a couple of close shots were fruitless and hell was not far when thankfully Hercules hashed up a perfect chance to score a third.

The game ended and so did a special experience which left mixed emotions in its wake, given the result extraordinaire.

I trudged back in disbelief and with a strange sense of disappointment and contentment.

Our next destination was the immensely popular street La Rambla which is abuzz with tourists and myriad activities all day and all night long.

It was a spectacle to behold and was a charming experience to walk alongside hundreds of tourists from all over the globe, all trying to soak in the best of Barcelona.

There were janitors, artistes and performers all along the long stretch with each of them trying their best to attract maximum eyeballs and more importantly, moolah, from the rapt audiences.

Along the way, Vibhas' eyes fell upon probably the 1st Vegetarian-only eating place we had seen in all of Europe.

It was nothing short of a miracle and we gratefully obliged ourselves, filling ourselves upto the throat virtually.

We then continued our jaunt down the street and reached one of Barcelona's ports with small boats lined up all around.

The place was lively and tourist-friendly much like all other places we had seen in Barcelona.

It was time to retire for the night and to dream about probably the last day of my foreseeable future in Spain.

The next morning seemed fresher and we had lots to cover.

The day began again with a trip to La Rambla where we decided to take a divergent route to explore the parallel streets.

It was a nice experience seeing the Barcelona cathedral and the famous Placa Reial. In the midst of all this, we enjoyed the freshest Mediterranean orange juice and I couldnt resist a 2nd helping.

Next on our agenda was a visit to the beach which spans a huge area and is only a couple of kilometres from La Rambla.

It was a brilliant beach and the water was a sparkling blue.

However the 'view' was disappointing after what one has come to expect having seen the lovely Swiss.

It was getting hotter and the Sun was quite strong, reminding of the discomfort that awaits me once I'm back to India.

Then we chanced upon a few rocks (a la Nariman point) by the seaside and sat there taking in the cool sea breeze.

It was time to decide what our next destination ought to be. In the process we sauntered along the La Rambla once again and then settled on Tibidabo as our last major stop in Barca. I had heard a lot about Tibidabo and how it was a must-visit spot. Getting there was a task as we had to travel on 4 different trains at different levels of the earth's surface. However, once we got there it was a pretty emphatic sight.

Its basically an amusement park on the top of a hill but the view of the entire city from there is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Barcelona looks quite stunning from this height, what with hundreds of small distant houses interspersed with a few tall landmarks of the city.

After posing for photographs in all conceivable angles and expressions, we walked a bit around Tibidabo. 

Soon the clock had ticked enough to make us retreat to the city. We reached well in time and had to satiate our hunger now. 

There werent many promising options open at 5pm on a Sunday and we had to be content with some sandwiches and the freshest orange juice in all the world, squeezed out of a fancy looking and efficient juice extraction equipment, apparently by an Indian couple.

In the midst of all this, I had to lug myself with Spanish 'kesar' which my people from back home were very keen for.

It was then that I realised how expensive a tiny strand of 'kesar' is and how I should be sorry for every time I dropped one

down the drain along with the milk.

Such was my tryst with Spain, one of more pleasant surprises than disappointments.

¡Viva la Espana!

Venice Memoirs 30th - 31st Jan 2010

If Rome enthrals, Venice enchants.

Its a city unlike any other.

Imagine having canals for roads and waterbuses for public transport.

And to spice it up, you have a main 'road' running all through town called the Grande Canal as well as taxi rides where speedboats are your taxis.

When you have your first glimpse of the city, you can be forgiven for underestimating its uniqueness.

It initially seems like any other city in Europe with a lake all around.

However, Venice is absolutely a different species.

First of all, you would struggle to find a land transport option in the actual town coz there are none.

There are buses which ply in certain areas but those are not places a tourist would be much interested in.

The waterbus-stops are themselves floating on water and can be really shaky when a berthing bus disturbs the water currents.

The waterbuses are similar to ferries but the view of the route is something to gape at.

The main square of the city is Piazza San Marco.

When you alight from the waterbus there, you are inadvertently drawn to the Gondolas berthing peacefully in a cluster. Bad weather and astronomical prices meant there werent many takers for them and the Gondoliers perhaps attuned to this fact were nowhere to be seen.

Now ofcourse this gives an Indian like me the unavoidable urge to step into one and make the most of the photo-op and so I do.

When you head towards the main square you are greeted by a huge flock of pigeons and sea gulls gladly jumping on top of any person's head and palms, who is willing to offer them food.

On walking further and viewing the same structure as shown in 'khuda jaane' your instincts take over and you become Ranbir Kapoor and moreso start looking out for Deepika but are pricked back to sad reality soon.

The monuments are stunning but when its -1 degree C, a little flavour is lost.

To restore the flavour, I head to a gelato store, nevermind the freezing weather.

(Statutory Warning - The gelatos at any place in Italy are not to be bunked even by the calorie conscious freaks.) 

Its sunset and we head back to locate our booked hostel and after a while set off again, to Rialto, a famous bridge in Venice.

Its a bustling area with activity and life.

Then curiosity makes you wanna explore the lanes and by-lanes of Venice.

We head into wherever the lanes lead us, crossing small canals and climbing mini bridges.

Infact it seems closer home in Venice than any other place in Europe, what with houses and buildings which take your mind back to a quiet day in Burrabazar or Kalbadevi.

The lanes of Venice virtually transport you to an era gone by, with the happy exclusion of modern distracting structures and transport.

We retired early that night due to lack of options and hopes of an early morning stroll before our train at 9.50 am on Sunday.

The next morning brought with it an icy town waking up from a snowy night.

We took off on an uninitiated route willing to explore more of the 'real' Venice and blessed we were.

The quiet lanes and bylanes were a joy. There were small canals at every juncture lined with boats and taxis and gondolas.

The serenity was breathtaking where every human being seen  could be described as a rara 'sighting'.

But it was the best hour I had at Venice, evermore wishing for a return trip once in life with a romantic partner.

Venice was a surreal destination, though the experience would have been at another level altogether with better weather and more time.

WC Final 2011 - A firsthand account

There are a thousand dreams you dream but alas they just stay as dreams.

But sometimes dreams come true and how!

I had a dream - to watch the finals of the WC 2011 at Mumbai between India and Australia.

However that was shot down on 20th March when it became official that these 2 teams would only meet in the QF.

Even then the dream of watching the Final lived on in the deepest recesses of my mind.

On the morning of the Final I was woken up to the reality of an invitation to watch the Final, or was I dreaming still?

Thankfully I wasnt.

It was a Godsent opportunity and I grabbed it gleefully. My cousin had 2 tickets and I was the fortunate companion to him.

The reaction was subdued and the joy muted for fear of jinxing it.

However as we reached closer to the destination the excitement got more palpable. Before it could be absorbed, I was queueing up to enter Wankhede.

As always we spent more than an hour to figure out where we would be sitting because seating regulations changed at the 

whims of our fellow spectators or the cops they dragged along with them.

When that was taken care of, all we cared about was the action, both on the field and in the stands.

The crowd was lively and star-studded with lots and lots of filmstars, politicians, industrialists, ex-cricketers all flaunting their patriotism and 

enjoying themselves at the biggest stage of it all. Our stand's resident celeb was Vivek/Viveik/Vievek Oberoi (not sure how he spelt it that day)

and he added some life by breaking into impromptu jigs to 'aey ganpat chal daaru la' and 'tere liye-prince'.

The sentiment in the crowd was largely optimistic throughout India's bowling, with odd spots of bother about Shreesanth's sustained generosity and Zaheer's late burst of charity.

The late bloom by Sri Lanka made the match prospects mouth watering albeit a little too hot for the spectators' liking.

With the start of India's batting, all that the public cared about was a 100 from Sachin and then the WC would be a certain by-product. 

The early exit of Sehwag and Sachin knocked the living daylights out of the Indian supporters and the silence was befitting a funeral.

The familiar feeling of scepticism swept across the stunned arena.

However, the steady progress of Gambhir and Kohli progressively calmed and then excited the spectators once again.

In my part of the ground, Malinga came in for some special lambasting by the Indian fans who strived to shred even the last vestige of confidence out of the Slinger.

It kept getting more and more vociferous once Dhoni and Gambhir started imposing India's mark on impending victory.

Chants of 'Chak de India', ' Vande Mataram', 'De Ghumake' and 'Sachin Sachin' (often out of context) worked up the fervent passion of the entire stadium.

As always there were some party poopers whose intention of watching the game quietly didnt quite strike a chord with the passionate majority and led to squabbles. This was obviously a source of amusement and entertainment for the onlookers.

All this while, the panning camera kept the fans on their toes with the everlasting hope of being beamed on the telly with a record viewership looking on.

Every now and then, I would steal glances towards the stand where Aamir and Preity were perched, with the innocent hope that they would somehow magically look back at me and wave.

The match ebbed and flowed but surely Dhoni and Yuvraj wouldnt shatter 1.2 billion dreams.

The script was too good to be spoilt and God had to be kind.

The runs diminished fast and the game was firmly in India's grasp.

No longer were people content with getting up for the fours alone, they wanted to cheer every ball. Dhoni and Yuvraj struck feisty blows to run down the target to 4 off 11 balls.

Then the moment arrived and what a way to seize it.

Dhoni slammed the next ball into space, no one cared where it landed, it soared on the strength of a billion prayers. 

The stadium erupted, the fans went ballistic, the players congregated and emotions poured out.

It was a sight to see Sachin running onto the pitch like a kid who had finally got his favourite toy. Words failed where tears of joy took over.

The whole gamut of positive emotions enveloped the stadium, the city and the country.

Soon after, the trophy that mattered was in India's hands.

This was what the Nation, the Players and most importantly, Sachin had craved for.

The entire stadium was, as Tony Greig would put it, dancing in the aisles, screaming their lungs out, crying themselves hoarse and yes, they were Bleeding Blue.

I thought the scenes inside Wankhede were breathtaking but outside it was crazier than all imagination.

There were thousands and thousands of people out on the streets celebrating arguably the biggest moment in India's sporting history.

Their joy knew no limits and feared no boundaries. This was bigger than any election, more sacred than any festival and crazier than any event perceivable.

It showed what the game of cricket means to the nation and how deep our craving for elusive world glory really is.

The crowd was euphoric - people danced and sang everywhere - be it on the streets, on terraces or even on the roof of moving cars.

Its incredible to experience what a simple game can do to the collective mood of a country as large as ours. 

Cricket unites, Cricket excites and Cricket defines India. 

Now, this is the stuff dreams are made of. This is what you live your life for. This was definitely the biggest day in the life of 21st century India and I am grateful to have been a part of it.