Kochi: by night

What do Kochi and Bangalore have in common? Other than the same country, mallu population, etc etc? Think maadi.

Anyhoo, have you played Wolfeinstien 3D? That one kickass game which ruined many a summer day when we were kids? Well if you have played and remember the UI, with BJ running around the claustrophobic labyrinth in a Nazi encampment in search of Ammo, Medicine and one big bad ass to kill. Remember? Remember? Freak man, that could as well have been Old Kochi. These guys (at ID software, which i am told no longer exists by that name, god bless their bank accounts) were surely sitting in Old Kochi when they conceptualized the UI. Narrow walled roads, about one and a half car’s width across (yes width, not length) snake around the city in a elaborate pattern ensuring that you travel 10 kms by road to be displaced by only 1km. No footpath. None. Wall – Road – Wall. That's it. Apparently people don’t need to walk in Kochi. While we are on the topic, let me not forget to mention the odd telephone or electricity pole planted in the middle of the road :) Yes, it is not just Subsaharan Africa (or Bangalore) which can lay claim to ingenious road widening/narrowing projects worthy of an Ig Nobel prize.

So, did you guess already? The freaking Traffic is a nightmare! Serious competition to Bangalore. In everything. Traffic, infrastructure, Software companies, underwear ads and the insane number of cubbyholed malls fueling consumer excess. Serious competition. Or maybe, just maybe, we guys were always at the wrong place at the wrong time?

But you know what? Even in the middle of all the madness there are pockets of serenity and bliss. Like the Kochi port. Gardens line the M.G. Road area, from where you can see the cargo ships berthing at the port. Here are few photos of Kochi by night. The first two are of the Kochi Port. In the second photo the tiny building to the left is the Taj. The last one was shot from the roof top of a friend’s house.

And you know what? The food is freaking amazing :) The Puttum Kadalayum is to be eaten. The Appam Stew (Not to be mistaken for Appam Chuthiya, who apparently also stays here), the Idiappam. Finger licking good. Daimn, my mouth is watering already.

Oh ya, don’t forget the Chinese fishing nets :)

Kochi: by night

Alappuzha and its backwaters

First of all, it is not pronounced the way you’d imagine it to be. That is correct, is it not Ah-la-poo-sa. It is Aha-la-poo-rla, or some such weird tongue contorting thing. Ask Shenoy, and he’ll tell you the tongue gymnastics we had to perform to ask for directions. First we used Ah-la-poo-sa, and all we got were blank looks, and then we used the Marathi equivalent of la, rolling tongue and everything, and all we received were bouts of laughter, and then if the askee could tear himself away from LHFAO (Laughing his freaking ass off), then we’d be pointed along in the right direction. I can now sympathize with the British fellas for choosing to call this place Alleppey.

After two hours of providing entertainment to the locals, we found ourselves on a bridge. Yeah, right, not just any bridge, but a bridge in the town of Alappuzha. Believe me, it was the most disappointing sight of my life (given that my life is akin to a goldfish, 5 second memory and everything, that statement is no surprise). I had expectations of this place man. Expectations. Close your eyes and imagine “Houseboat + Kerala”. Does it involve water ways clogged with water hyacinth? Stinking of shit? Dingy motor boats, without a house boat in sight? Wild pigs running around? It doesn’t, now does it? Well, that is exactly what we got. I was in half a mind to turn around and go away and drown myself in the Arabian Sea (G.O.L.D.F.I.S.H.), but then wiser counsel prevailed and we parked the car near the tourist office to fish around for a suitable boat.

The tourist office informed us that the only way to traverse the waterways is to hire a motorboat. Available for only Rs.500 per hour. And that it would take us about 3 hours to visit the village to Kuttanad and back. According to lonely planet, the revered – I am only for idiotic f*cking clueless travelers – guide book, it was some sort of cultural village to be seen. Those of you who know me, also know that I religiously follow this book, even though it ALWAYS falls way short of expectation. But, but, Katpad it was for us, and we haggled around and found a PINK, yes PINK, boat for Rs 2000 for a 4 hour trip around the backwaters.

With a disguised disappointed look, I got into the boat and resigned myself to 4 four hours of stink, water hyacinth, and boredom. But then, like the proverbial (really? which proverb?) goldfish, in about 2 minutes i had my camera out and shooting at will. I shot the pig, I shot the dilapidated boat, I shot the car on the road, I shot the sheriff… err… no. But you get the picture. Shenoy and me were commenting - “So, this is how they put chuna to the foreign tourists”. Falsers words had not entirely tumbled out of our blasphemous mouths, that lo, behold we were in the real backwaters. Houseboats. Gazzilions of them. In mind blowingly beautiful settings. Even after a month of this revelation, I find it particularly difficult to write about that moment. I think “I was bowled over” is a gross understatement.

There were so many of these house boats, and not one was available to us! It was apparently the tourist season. Not too hot, not too humid, and hardly any rains, so all in all perfect weather to hole up in one of these house boats and err… well.. do nothing. Absolutely nothing. What bliss (sigh)

The going rate for one of these boats was Rs 10000 a night. I know, WTF? But well, I think we got the inflated prices, perhaps haggling can get it down. A bit. According to Reju, our friendly boatsman, it costs upto Rs 10,00,000 to build one of these houseboats. The are all equipped with a kitchen, library, a lounge, and all modern gadgets that you’d really have wanted to leave behind on a vacation. Yeah, like who would want to see the idiot box on a vacation? Huh? Apparently, a lot of people (Not everybody is like you Mr. Me). These boats are equipped with DTH service and big ass plasma Televisions. No kidding. Check out the guy with the My-toddy-strongest pose ;)

We, were still reeling from the after effects of the colossal house boats (colossal is err… well… you know… exaggeration) when we meandered into this section of the backwaters, where there was no one but us. The homes were so beautiful. But with only waterways connecting them. If in the urban setting a family has two cars, one for the husband and one for the wife, then here they just substitute that with boats. These guys live off the water. Literally.

I particularly was blown away by the house on the extreme left.It looked like it was inspired by Laurie Baker, and to be honest, it is quite similar to the fantasy home that i have built for myself in my head.

For about an hour and a half we were just meandering the backwaters, soaking in the scenery, the greenery, the water, the little fishes in the water, the ducks, the billions of ducks, the different methods of fishing, and then a freaking phone rang. It was Reju. Our enterprising boatsman, had a tie up with this little restaurant in the middle of the backwaters, where lunch was awaiting us. So he brings in the fish (i.e. us) and they cook it (i.e. fleece us). Wow.

Anyway, hungry we were, so we agreed to lunch. The fish was fresh, straight from the river. The owner seemed a bit disappointed that I was a vegi. But I must agree on one point – it was finger licking good. It wasn’t too heavy on the pocket either – Rs 400 for three people and plate of shrimp pepper fry or something.

After the finger licking good lunch, we headed back to Alappuzha, but hey.. we didn’t need that extra hour, so we forced Reju to give us an extended tour of the Vembanad lake :) Boy, this lake is huge. Colossal (no exaggeration this time!)

And we also learnt an important lesson. You can use the State transport ferry service to do the same route, well almost the same route, for a little under Rs 60 per head :) I like it when I am told such things! On the whole, I’d say it was the highlight of the trip to Kerala. These four hours were by far the best. Not that the rest of the trip was crappy or anything, yet – these were the backwaters man! Lazing on a boat. Now if only I got to see the Nehru Cup like that lucky pig Googie got to see ;)

P.S. Whatever on earth happened to the Kuttanad thingy? Even we forgot :)

Alappuzha and its backwaters

Zurich

After several months of lost opportunity and after 7 transits and a day spent at its zoo, I finally got to eat authentic classic Swiss Fondue and Raclette... oh yes, and also spend an entire night in Zürich last weekend. My cousin, the same one I was trying to call in the Heathrow incident, was visiting Zürich with his friend, so it was quite logical that I got my fat ass to Zürich :)

If you have seen the Bangalore International Airport, then you have pretty much know what to expect at the Zürich Airport. Zürich Airport is part of the consortium running BIAL. And like namma bengaluru airport the public transport connectivity from Zürich Airport to the city is funkastic. You have a choice of the train (SBB), which will take you to the main railway station (no prizes for guessing! its called Zürich Haputbhanhof) for 6 CHF, or the tram line number 10 which will also get you to the main railway station in a few extra minutes. You can also buy a 24 hrs pass for 8 CHF. Pssst... I did not know this.

Anyways, a trip to the information center at the main railway station is worth the 10 odd calories spent. You can find out just about every thing you need to know for your short visit from the friendly people manning (O.K. Womanning) the center. We spotted a brochure advertising an interesting city walk here – The Ghost walk of Zurich. You are promised goosebumps and hair raising stories. Alas it was only available in spring or fall. It is something I would like to try the next time I am in Zürich.

By the time we guys reached Zürich it was 6 pm in the evening. Time for dinner you'd say huh, but we were a bit full with some junk food we had had, a little stroll in the city was in order to build up an appetite. So, we walked around the city, nearly froze in temperatures of below -4°C; soaked in the magnificent and charming sights of a city by night, which European cities seem so adept at exuding; and occasionally broke our zombie state walk to click some photographs.

What you see above is a view of the river Limmat, with the Zürich main railway station in the left edge and the Zürich Museum of something something. There are way too many museums to remember in this city!

The above is a view of the Grossmunster (i.e. big church) across the river Limmat.

The above the view of the city library (Zentralbibliothek)

And this is the view of the Kantonsrat (or Canton advice?? must be some sarkari office)

Oh well, so we were semi frozen, and had built up an appetite, so we headed to the world famous in Zürich restaurant for Original Swiss Fondue and raclette – Restaurant Swiss Chuchi. A cloud of aromatic cheese overwhelms the vicinity of the restaurant, so you cannot miss it. Apparently this is some sort of dandy place where folks need to make a reservation, so the waiter gave us some serious attitude for not making one in advance and warned us that nothing was available until 10.30 in the night. But Fondue we wanted, so we put our names on the list and made our way to the bar with the propeller. I remembered this place on the corner of Zähringerplatz from a previous trip.

It really was funky visiting this place with my cousin (a PhD) his two friends, both PhDs. hehe. It sure was fun. Oh, btw, for all the gay people out there, Zurich has a mind boggling number of gay bars and pubs, and not to mention exotic dance bars (you know what I euphemistically mean)

Anyhoo, the food at the Swiss Chuchi was not all that great. First they force you to buy one dish per person (??), first time i ever saw that on a menu by the way, and then the service was.. hmmm.. well.. flaky at best. I think it was because we got a waiter from the neighbourhood of our motherland, who was intent on getting his revenge for an imaginary crime we had committed by feeding us some “desi” Reisling. Yes, he said - “Original Desi”. I am no wine expert, but I have my doubts about “Original desi” ;)

Now, I was a 110% certain that we had trains every hour to Konstanz, even at night. Before someone gets all ecstatic, no. That is far, far, far away from the truth. The last train is at 1, there is another at 3 to Kreuzlingen, and the first train in the morning is at 6am. Or so the oracle of the TV schedule bespoke. Crap! so I had to spend the night at Zurich. God bless the poor souls\ of my cousins friend, for having given shelter to an almost homeless guy that night :P

Anyways, the next morning, we had a nice stroll near the Zurich lake; got aquainted with the ka-ka-ka-kawah-ing gulls; and then walked up to the Grossmunster for a splendid view of the whole city.

A hazy morning at the Zurich lake.

It costs 4 CHF to climb up the 70 meters and 187 steps up to see this view. Unfortunately for us, it was a rather hazy morning, but not too hazy :)

We spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around the city buying some swiss army knives at Teddy's souvenir shop, and in the evening we made our way to Sihl city and to Vapiano’s for a super duper dinner. I realized later that Vapiano’s is a franchise operation, but the setting was spectacular, the food was good, and light on the wallet by Zurich standards. The most interesting part of the setting was the bonsai tree around which we ate. We could garnish the dish with fresh mint, basilikum, petersilie straight from the bonsai garden.

P.S. And then I took the 8.30pm train home ;)

P.P.S. The seeds of a new adventure have been sown - The Santiago de Compostella. Will I do it? Won't I do it? Will it be like the millions of other plans that i make? Muhuhahahaha....

P.P.P.S Did you notice that every shop has a website????

Zurich

One life to Ride: Book review

Have you ever ridden a RE motorcycle from Manali to Leh? Are looking for a quick trip down memory lane? Have you not ridden in a while? Then “One life to ride” by Ajit Harisinghani will compel you to look at your old photographs or even better - clean the dust off your bike, top up the engine oil and hit the road again.

The book itself is void of any photographs, yet as one reads, the characters and the landscape jump out of the book with remarkable clarity. One is magically transported to the hills, and old memories of that one kickass ride flood the mind...

This book is not just about an old guy riding a bullet to the hills. You've probably heard those stories a large number of times. This book is also about what goes on in the author's head as he rides across India. It is a cheerful collection of short stories, a few not related to the cross Indian ride, but all well within context.

I made the mistake of reading this book on a flight taking me away from India. Why did I ever have to leave, when I could have rather been in Ladakh? The hills, the friendly people, the Indus river, the crazy nallahs, the glaciers, the ever present threat of High Altitude Mountain Sickness, the feeling of peace, utter peace. Why? Sallaaa paapi pet #$%^&*@

Statutory warning: If you are not a motorcycle travel enthusiast as the author is, or as I fancy myself to be, then this book may just about make you one :)

http://www.onelifetoride.com/index.html

One life to Ride: Book review

My lucky day - Thank you Heathrow, and BA ground staff

So, apparently I am supposed to be the world's luckiest man. Why? Ha ha. First I must let you know that I am probably the world's most stupid man first and then maybe today was my lucky day.

Background info: I was flying from Bangalore to Zurich via London. My cousin lives in London, and he had just earned his PhD, so I thought I'd save some cash by calling him from London rather than from Konstanz.

I deposited 2 pounds in a payphone and dialed my cousin's number. Absent minded me also deposited the wallet on the payphone. As luck would have it, my cuz was unreachable on phone. Disappointed I walked away. Wait. Rewind a bit. There was also that wallet on the phone. Yes. But I just walked away. The wallet contained my EC card – i.e. direct access to all my money; the walled also contained my rail pass, Swiss francs for my ticket to germany, my insurance card and god alone knows what else.

I walked across the terminal found a secluded spot, fired up the laptop, and started writing about “One life to ride”. That done, I felt thirsty. Don't ask why. To quench the thirst I decided to gulp some liquid, then as I stood in queue to buy a hot chocolate, I realized that I was missing something. Yeah. Right. Ich bin eine tooblight!

Then started my crazed run through Heathrow airport in search of the wallet, and when that turned to be a no show, for the security people. One directed me to another and then to another, and then finally one man directed me to the team lead of security at Terminal 5. I spoke to the man, and he was like, “So you left it on the phone?” with a distinct tone of incredulity. I confessed my stupidity, at which point he delicately told me not to get my hopes up. “In all probability it is all gone by now”, he said, a point which was already bouncing around wildly in my head.

He did give me two numbers and told me that the cops would not register a case for two days, which is the window they adhere to in the case of stupid people losing their belongings. As usual I kept laughing. At my own stupidity.

I thought I'd try the lost and found department right away. I asked for directions at the currency exchange counter. On hearing my situation they advised me to get in touch with the customer service. The customer service desk was maned by a man in his late twenties, blond spiked hair and the attitude of a teenager not bothered about the rest of the world. He directed me to the other customer service counter, where I saw a very familiar looking object on the desk.

This desk was manned, errr womanned by three blond middle aged ladies. And they were jubilant to find me! “What was in it?”, one asked, while another chimed in, “Can you show us your passport?” followed by “I think we got him! We were just about to page you, you must be the luckiest man on earth today.”

I was so relieved, that I kept mumbling my inadequate “thank you”'s like a stuck record.

“It was just luck, we were walking by on our break and someone handed this to us. You truly are a very lucky man”, said one of the kind ladies. What are the chances of that happening? Daimn.

Thank you unknown good Samaritan. Thank you wonderful ladies at the BA customer service. Sometimes one does feel quite lucky and very very stupid at the same time too.

B.T.W. The wallet also contained two expired and non existent credit cards – a decoy method some one once advised me about :)

My lucky day - Thank you Heathrow, and BA ground staff

Spicy tales from Junagadh

I have always thought of the Nawab of Junagadh in rather unfavorable terms, because of what I learned in my high school history classes. According to the present day locals of Junagadh my misgivings are misplaced. Here are two very interesting stories about the Nawab narrated to me by the locals.

For a while, just skip back to high school and more specifically to the history classes dealing with Indian independence. Recall that at independence, there were 400 odd princely states. Of these more than 300 were in Gujrat. All the princely states had the freedom to remain independent or join Indian or Pakistan. Out of the 300 in Gujrat, only one was a troublesome state, which refused to join the Indian Union. That is Junagadh. The Nawab of Gujrat was Muslim and he wanted to join Pakistan, but the majority population of Junagadh was Hindu and they wanted to join India. Things untangled itself and eventually Junagadh joined the Indian Union.

Now, this is the account of events which the people of Junagadh gave. The Nawab of Junagadh was a very good man. He was a just ruler, forward thinking, implemented several developmental projects etc etc. (But I think the "good" was used by my source because of the following..) Even though he was Muslim, he did not force his religion on his subjects. On the contrary, he made sure that the Hindu places of worship were protected, sufficiently funded. He even ordered that mosques be kept out of the Girnar hills, given that these hills are sacred to the Hindus. The Dewan, or prime minister, of this Nawab was a man of questionable morals and ambitions. The Dewan's progeny would later go on to rule Pakistan. Anyway, he instigated the Nawab to join Pakistan, so the Nawab signed the declaration to join Pakistan. What was signed was signed, so Junagadh was all set to join the Union of Pakistan, but then the citizens of Junagadh were appalled at the Nawab's decision. At this point, there was nothing much that India, or Sardar Patel could do. The people of Junagadh were on their own. So they formed a militia, and fought the Nawab's forces. After three months of revolt they overthrew the Nawab's forces, and installed a new King – Mr Samaldas Gandhi. Mr Gandhi, promptly singed a declaration joining the Union of India. And that is how Junagadh became a part of India. Quite an interesting tale, and something which even the source of eternal truth (Wikipedia) seems to partially corroborate.

Illustration 1: Bahauddin Arts and Science College

The Nawab's interesting life does not stop there. According to folk lore (or “ facts”), Girnar hills is considered to be the abode of holy men. Each having meditated enough to have visions and interactions with the meta-physical world. So, once upon a time, a long long time ago, there lived a widow in Junagadh. She had two young kids – a girl and a boy. She would go into the Girnar forest every day to collect firewood. She would sell this firewood and with that money, she would buy food for her children. It was a hand and mouth existence for her family.

One day as she was returning from the forest with her stash of firewood, a yogi met her on the forest trail. He needed some firewood, so he asked her if she could give him some. She gave the yogi all her firewood, without even thinking of how she would feed her children that day. The yogi was impressed. It was a test, which the widow had passed, and so the yogi blessed the widow and said – you will one day become royalty. A lot many years later the Nawab of Junagad was passing by the village of the widow and chanced upon her daughter. The daughter had grown up to be a beautiful lass – one imagines with a hour glass figure, a face to die for, and a smile that could light up a dark room. The Nawab made her his queen. So the widow became the queen mother, and the brother became the Vazir. (I am not sure if this is the same Vazir who is supposed to have “ poisoned” the Nawab's mind to join Pakistan).

Thanks to the abject poverty in which the new Queen and Vazir had grown up, school was luxury their mother could ill afford. The Vazir, though uneducated, was a worldly wise man and knew the importance of good education, so one of the first things he did was to start an arts and science college in Junagadh. That college is today known by his name – Bahauddin Arts and Science college. Further, legend has it that, during the design of the college, the Vazir wanted a pillar less auditorium, and apparently no architect (i.e. British architect) could come up with a viable design. A local carpenter eventually came up with an innovative slotted and pillar less design which keeps the structure erect even today, even withstanding the several earthquakes which have rocked the region.

A word of caution – these are uncorroborated stories, i.e. no documentary proof. But I kinda sorta see the Nawab of Junagadh in a different and slightly more kinder shade of light than I did before.

Spicy tales from Junagadh

Ahmadabad – An evening spent at the Kankaria lake

The first impression of Ahmadabad was that of a modern city with wide roads and low traffic density despite a practically non-existent public transport system. For a person coming from Bangalore or Cochin, this is a welcome relief. Not the poor public transport system, but the low traffic density.

The next thing which struck me as different from Bangalore, is the presence of a river (Yeah, I know - tubelight bugger wonlee). Ahmadabad is built on the banks of the river Sabarmati. The same river which lent its name to the iconic Sabarmati Ashram of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. A thermal power plant provides uninterrupted good quality power to the city. The only glitch – the power plant is well within the city limits. How much of the fog / smog problems of Ahmadabad can be attributed to this proximity is anyone's guess.

Architecturally, I would rate Ahmadabad as several notches higher than Bangalore or Cochin. Not that I am any expert on the matter, but to my untrained eyes, the buildings appear aesthetic. I saw quite a few ceramic mosaic art on the underpasses and building walls. Perhaps, these appeal to my sensibilities more than some crude works of art painted on the Bangalore walls, not to mention the jarring building colors apparently recommended by Vastu-Pasthu gurus. Maybe one can thank the National Institute of Design for the aesthetic city?

While Bangalore has been trying to build multi storied roads – like the elevated flyover, and the sometimes above ground metro and sometimes below ground metro, Ahmadabad has quietly implemented a rapid transport system – a dedicated bus corridor where only buses can ply. This is called the Bus Rapid Transport system, abbreviated as BRTS. The BRTS to me looks like a dedicated ring road for Buses. I did not travel by this system, so I am not aware of the frequency of service. But they do not have a service to the airport, if that is what you want to know.

The Kankaria lake is a good place to spend the evening if one also lugs along a pair of good ear plugs. Not that the people are noisy. The authorities in charge of the lake have installed speakers every 10 meters along the shore, which belts out “music”. Maybe they are vehicles for a hidden subconscious message to be transmitted by a devious government. Maybe the radio station paid a copious sum to the renovation project. Every single light bulb at the lake seems to be paid for by Max New York Life Insurance. Or so one would assume when one sees that name glowing from every light. Nevertheless, the lake is a good place to spend a lazy evening. The musical fountain and laser show is worth the extra 10 rupees. Also, do not forget to eat the corn samosa here.

Hey, I almost forgot to mention the lack of potholes on the city roads :)

Ahmadabad – An evening spent at the Kankaria lake

Ramnagar hills - Sholay

Today / Yesterday we've had the smallest announce ride group in a long while. There were 6 main listers - KD, Goop, Toothpick, Rajeev, ADK and KML; and 1 newbie - Arvind T.
KD and Prakash Pai were going towards Ramanagar for the Jan 10th announce ride, and the Jan 3rd announce ride guys were heading towards Kunigal, Nagamanagala, Huliyurdurga and Ramanagar as per the "plan". We were supposed to start at 6 am so we waited till 6.35 am. But there were only 6 bikes. So, the two rides merged into one :)

A cold, misty morning and beltabale roads greeted us once we crossed the NICE ring road. If any of us hadn't woken up, then the short twists, curves, banks and the odd psycho bus drivers made sure we had (woken up). I hadn't ridden a motorcycle in almost 10 months (not counting the last two weeks), so this was joy. The Mysore road trip a couple of days back was nowhere near as good. The roads were good and the "old bridge" was not as scenic as it felt a few years back, perhaps why the point - Mr. Broadband, just kept going. Which ment we missed the first regroup point.

So, the new first regroup point was a chai stop a few kilometers before Magadi. A familiar looking Thunderbird went past, with the rider looking here, and there and front and back, but completely ignoring the line of 5 bullets. We were now 5, because Prakash Pai's ride was not behaving itself, so he pulled out a few kilometers after we started. We waved, yelled and whislted, but this guy turned off towards Savandurga and went off. Shortly, another Thunderbird rolled in. It was tooth pick. After another round of Chai, an aqua marine classic joined the party - ADK.

We stopped at the world famous in Kunigal breakfast point - Siddalingeshwara Tiffen Center for some finger licking good Thatay Idly, Vada, Pulao and Chai Kappee.
Then we proceeded towards Huliyurdurga fort on the same Bangalore Bypass route which we "discovered" for RM9. Some people.... errr one people, went back towards Kunigal instead. So we were waiting for a while near Huliyurdurga. Then we were playing around with ADK's new Classic, when this wrong turn macha appears.
The road from Huliyurdurga to somewere between Madur and Channapatana on the SH-17 is still good to ride, but a bit bumpy. A village lady was enthralled by the aqua marine Classic that she ran in front of it, ADK did the almost skidding and all thing.

30 odd kms later, Broadband, Arvind and I were having some Mazza and waiting for the rest of the guys at a roadside shack at the SH-17 junction. We were jabbering away in Kannada, which apparently impressed the shopkeeper. I know, WTF? We waited for a while, before wondering if something went wrong for the other guys. Apparently the overturned truck which we ignored caught the fancy of our motographing junta. Any way as the other junta arrive, a yellow Alto stopped by for its occupants to take a sutta break. Again the aqua marine Classic exercised its magnetic charm and pulled the PYT driving the Alto towards itself. The poor young thing kissed the silencer with her bare legs while possing for a snap. The pain she will be feeling right now... Sigh.

Rajeev P, the one who we have forgotten to nick, said he needed to download really really fast. Some where out of public view. So we rushed to the closest Highway Highspeed internet cafe with a clean download center, where the cache is flushed i.e. Cafe Coffee Day. So we sat in the AC. Rajeev P did the downloading and flushing (or so we presume) which is why he is now called Broadband ;)

From there we pushed off to Ramanagar in search of the famous Sholay hills. After a few Autorikshaw walla GPS consultations, we were in the right place. A guide, rather the only guide, was booked for next week. And then a few of us trekked up the Ramanagar hill.


Once we came down, Rajeev P a.k.a. Broadband, Goop and KD went off to KD's place for a chill beverage, while Arvind, Toothpick, ADK and I went off to Hotel Taj international and world famous in Ramanagar for Biryani - which btw we didn't get. The Vegis of the world have no hope in this cruel Biryani world. Crap.

After some hajjar Kerala Parotas we left the lunch place and proceeded towards Blr. We seldom crossed 70 kph after this point. Hehe. But we were not sleepy. No sir. Then we split at the University Gates. I was back home at 4.10 pm after 245 kms of riding in one day, and 380 steps up a hill. Boy it felt good.

Thanks guys for turning up for the announce ride and for clubbing the reccee ride with it too. I sure had fun.

Ramnagar hills - Sholay