Cinque terre

Our third tour in Florence will take us out of town to cinque terre this is and unesco world heritage site. The tour tells us clearly that the trek is not for the faint hearted so we choose a less strenuous one . The drive out of Florence takes two hours and along the way we pass beautiful countryside with miles and miles of garden shops growing all manner of Christmas trees ready for the season. Tomatoes and other vegetables are also grown but all this on a massive scale.

Our guide like mentioned earlier is a girl and a very professional one at that. Her English and Spanish is flawless and she points us towards the ugliest building in Florence and I must admit it's an eyesore among all the beauty.

As we climb the hills to cinque terre the landscape changes. Breathtaking mountains descend into the Mediterranean. The air is fresh with the aromas of fresh pine. The cactus has flowers on it and the sea shimmers in the mid afternoon sun. It's picture postcard perfect.

As we get off at our parking lot,we are told that there are only three thousand people on that island. Cinque terre as the name suggests is a collection of five fishing villages along the Mediterranean coast of Italy. Life here isn't easy,floods have destroyed this area in the past,there are no medical facilities and the local people have had to toil on the harsh and dangerous terrain to farm the land. In winter it can become intolerable to live but as in all things beautiful it has its downside too. We climb down narrow steps and reach the first island of riomaggiore a small fishing village. We walk many steps down to the sea where fishing boats of all sizes are either bobbing on the water or drawn ashore. There is nothing much to see besides the Mediterranean but that is enough. In the sunshine the sea is in three shades of blue,pounding relentlessly on the rocks in a cascade of foam. The water is cool,the way to go down to the water is steal,the rocks slippery but the beauty is well worth it. I have seen the Mediterranean from many sides but it never fails to amaze me and hold me in its spell. Our next stop is to the next island and unfortunately because of rough seas we have to take a train instead of a boat. I am deeply disappointed. A sea ride was something I was looking forward to but it is not to be. The trains are packed with tourists and we are told to be very careful with our belongings as pick pockets abound. Used as we are to all the rouges in india it's not a big deal with us but the unsuspecting American is in danger. The rail tracks run along the sea and as we cross each tunnel the sea comes into view again. We are skipping one island as it involves climbing some tree hundred odd steps and our group doesn't look like they can handle it I am disappointed again as I was a.l ready to push myself.

Lunch is in a costal place with fish and pasta and it's homemade so great. Along the way we meet two women one judge and one attorney from the states. They are full of fun and have a great sense of humour but like most Americans they are not used to rough and tumble and are pretty shocked when our guide takes us off the railway platform into the tunnel to board the train. Of course in this small island it is actually the platform that goes into the tunnel but they take all the jokes on them like good sports and they are so much fun I am willing to change my view on the well travelled American a little bit.

At the end of a long day our feet are killing us with all the climbing but the sea is so calming and beautiful that I can gaze and gaze and like the poem,say I gaze and gaze and little thought what wealth the shore to me had brought. I am a great lover of the sea and can stay for hours near the water and not get tired of it. It was a great trip despite the train running late by twenty minutes,the boat ride not happening,the guid getting us into the wrong train and all but the guides are such nice girls we can stay mad at them for two long. A day well spent.

Strolling around Florence

Our day begins with a walking tour of Florence. Asked to be there fifteen minutes in advance the husband decided it had to be half an hour in advance so we hang around waiting while I fume and the husband is calm and collected. The guide is late so we start the tour late. This is Italy I am getting used to their ways. A few minutes into the walk and I am convinced the guide hasn't a clue what he is talking about. Thankfully I speed read Rick steins book on Florence so was up to scratch on its famous landmarks. If all this wasn't enough it started to pour. Suddenly the streets are filled with umbrellas and milling crowds. The duomo is packed,and with pickpockets in anudance I have to be on high alert and clutching my handbag while dodging the umbrellas not the finest way to see the city. In the meanwhile the guide drones on and on. A tedious two hours later we are rid of him but are waiting for our next tour which is the uffizi gallery.

The sky is grey and heavy with clouds so we start our walk away from the crowds towards the piazza Michelangelo. It's a stunning walk towards this square but our tour begins at three in the afternoon and the husband is a,ready anxious that we will miss it never mind that we have at least half an hour to go. We head back to wait for our guide at the gallery and the rain pours. My spirits are dipping at all the time we waste waiting for people because we are over anxious but one must weigh the highs and lows and decided what outweighs what. Unfortunately the guide on this tour is no better than the one of the morning. He spends a full fifteen minutes giving us an art lesson on three paintings ,and none of it interesting. I am beginning to think he is some failed artist and soon many others are getting restless too. We decide to leave the man to his lecture and get ahead And see all the Italian masterpieces T our own pace. The only reason we took the tour was that the crowds at the entry was frightening. All in all the men guides are a big disappointment and have no sense of humour either. Too caught up in their own history they forget to see the lighter side of life. Though I must admit the same can't be said of the other women guides on the tours out of Florence. The girls Re fluent in at least five languages,have very pleasant attitude and know what they are talking about,besides which they are efficient.

We end the day with a meal in our favourite place and chat up two women one from Cape Town and the other from Perth and end the night with plenty of laughter. The highlight was an earthquake at three the previous night which the husband work up to but I told him to stop being paranoid and slept through it. Since earthquakes seem common in Florence no one was making a fuss and for that I am glad.

Under the Tuscan sun

It's our first full day in Tuscany. For me Tuscany represents all that is good about Italian good. We set off on our trip to the wine yards of San giimignano,Siena and monteriggiono. The bus is full of tourists from England,Canada,America and many others. Different nationalities,religions and cultures but joined by one common goal. To enjoy the beauty of Italy's most beautiful region.

As we leave Florence behind we pass ancient crumbling walls set in the Roman age and then on to wide countryside. After a few minutes,we encounter the sun drenched landscapes of Tuscany. Rolling hills dotted with villas typical of the region. In the relentless sun we see miles upon miles of rolling hills most of it covered in wines all ripe for the picking. The sky is a deep blue,the clouds in waves of fluff. It's sunshine and wine all the way. Our first stop is San giimignano a place for wine and olive oil. The place itself is small,cobbled streets wind their way up and down the town. The town has two squares and like in all of Italy it's full of churches,medieval building housing cafes,pizzeria and shops. Countless shops sell everything from wine to cheese,olive oil in a deep green colour,crafts,leather goods and all manner of temptations.

It's all vey laid back and happy. We stop for coffee and for someone like me who dislikes coffee I must admit that I have fallen in love with the bitterness of espresso. It's come in one sip but a heady one at that.

We move on to th Chianti wine region for a lesson in wine tasting. It's a large wine yard run for generations by an Italian family and it's full of cousins all doing their jobs rather well. We start with a lesson on how to hold the glass the science behind it,how to twirl it ,sniff it and drink it ,all the time looking out for aromas and flavours . For one as unschooled as me I must admit I know a lot about the technique but must admit my abject failure when it comes to sniffing out flavours. She tells us that the the wine has the aroma of peppers. Now for a person like me peppers are the heady black peppers which have no place in the Italian countryside so I have no clue what she is talking about. Suffice to say that all the wines are excellent,the desert wine being pretty strong and we are all a happy bunch at the end of the meal.

We move on to Siena,another medieval town set among narrow cobbled streets,high ancient building which throw their shadows in the mid afternoon sun. We get a guided tour and taste the famous pan forte a sweet made in this place and one which I promised myself I would try. It heavy with honey and dried fruits and nuts but I give it a miss. It's a bit too sinful for my taste. Siena is also home to the famous Palio where the horse races took place. A wide arena is currently full of tourists basking under a Tuscan sun. It's roads are lined with shops with designer labels to local craft. The churches are beautiful and full of history. The sent of many burning candles are pretty heady. We soon have to move on to monteriggiono a very small town with a castle to a it's credit though to me it looks more like a fort. We are told that this was a strategic location with one end looking out to Florence and the other to Siena both sworn enemies. It's takes about half and hour to see it and then as the sun sets on another day and the wine yards and rolling hills sink into the shadows it's back to Florence and dinner at our new found local. The husband is exhausted with the long day,I am too busy chatting to every Italian who knows even a smattering of English. Dinner is ravioli in meat sauce ,wine and a Parma ham pissa. Need I say more. The temperature has dipped to twenty one degrees but I choose to miss the night life in Florence and to the sound of contented snores of the husband I bid this day good night.

An Italian impression

It's back to the road again,this time a train ride to Florence. We will be back in Rome despite not having thrown a coin in the Trevino fountain,but having said that I have mixed feeling about Rome. I was told by many that it's a beautiful place,it certainly is if you like ancient ruins,but for someone like me more in love with nature,the Alps and meadows of Austria hold more charm. Not to say that Rome isn't a nice place.

I was told to look out for pick pockets and thugs but am glad to say I encountered neither on the first trip. I face I found the Italians more laid back than most Europeans ,they are far more friendly,ready to share their lives with us. One question can set off a volley of rapid fire chatter and before you know it one is familiar with the family history. I have had women share their meals with me simply because I have eaten their food. At Florence after a five minute conversation with the hotel owner (which involved some shopping tips and exchange of recipes) she was willing to give me a whole bag of bread from Naples which is used to make panzanella the salad they have here. It was only my polite refusal that has me back in the room with two slices of this famed bread. I already know that she has two daughters,that one of her sons works for the police,the hotel is named after one of the daughters and her grandson doesn't think she is posh because she doesn't like truffles. I also discovers she has a friend in Delhi who makes excellent curry,that the lady of the hotel attempts to make curry but it doesn't taste quiet the same as Indian original. Phew would I have ever got such a mine of information from Germans or the English or French. I think more than their country I am liking the people and the food more.

The landscape is not very dissimilar to India too. So used to seeing lush green meadows and wholly sheep and cloudy skies,the Tuscan sky is a clear vibrant blue,not a cloud in sight. The earth is brown with occasional burst of green but a rugged Mediterranean green. It's a long time since I have been in a Mediterranean country and the contrast to the north of Europe cannot be more stark. Olives and grapes turn into wine,oil and vinegar,there are plenty of vegetables,simple dishes and many a grandmother in sight. The Italian nona is very much at the forefront of this busy country.

When in Rome

Rome has been part of our childhood learning experience ,if we were told that Rome wasn't built in a day ,we were also told that all roads lead to Rome and that when in Rome do as the Romans do. For us it was a distant reference to julius Caesar or some Roman god but beyond that they just remains maximums to live by.

Today we decided to try out a few new things as we had finished with all the touristy things.  A long walk to find another hotel we need to see so we try and do some word association to remember the names of streets. Maps are in such fine print its next to impossible to read and as we are not on any local data plan the smartphones have to stay not so smart. We walk for a good thirty minutes through some scary downtown areas and find the place only to find that there are three other ways to reach the place and far less scary roads.....so all roads do lead to Rome. We ask for directions to a place we want to see and misunderstand the instructions thanks to still getting used to European s driving on the wrong side of the road according to us. We get into a bus and after an hour realise that we have gone totally in the wrong direction,but in the process we have seen many residential areas,have travelled the length and breadth of the Rome that people stay in as opposed to the touristy parts. Our journey is interesting in many ways,the Italians gossip non stop,talk loudly and are always greeting each other over someone's heard. The bus is crowded and we are packed like sardines and there are plenty of families,small children,mothers,old people all out and about. The buses unlike other European cities don't seem to have wheelchair access,nor does anyone get up for old people though we do as it seems only decent to do. The old ladies don't have any problem asking the husband to help them with baggage or ticket buying,so very much like India. We finally reach our destination and are trilled to bits as we have used the 100 minutes of our ticket validity thanks to getting lost.  Lunch is in a market called camp do fiori and it's an interesting place. All manner of things are sold her. The Italian street markets are place to be in. All kinds of tomatoes,garlic,cheese,vegetables are up for sale along with shoes,clothes and what not . All around the market there are cafes selling food. Everyone asks us to come to their place but the husband tires of looking at menus and we decide on one place. Striking up conversations is not difficult and when the food comes it's so outstanding we stop talking altogether. Osscobusco which was on my list of must eat foods was everything and more. I haven't a clue what they put in it but it was so full of flavour I licked my plate clean.

Lunch over,the husband decided to go to the gallery borghese which is actually a park but we don't know that do we. Searching for a bus is next to impossible here as they don't have many signpost s not are the instructions very clear. Everyone will wave their hands and tell you that it's all down the road and it may well be but for us it's not easy. The husband thank god is an excellent map reader. He can find the shortest route to any place and thanks to him map reading skills we can finds ways to places easily. When our feet scream in protest we set off on our long walk back home. In effect we have walked the length and breadth of Rome in our short stay here and like I told myself before the trip,roaming in Rome is a wonderful pastime. The good thing about the Romans is that they are friendly people. We have dinner at the place we went to two days ago and finally we get a spicy pasta which they call picante and the husband thought it was too spicy,we chatted with some locals in English and actually had a conversation and all in all our last day was more interesting than we imagined it would be

Yet another touristy day

On our third day it's time for the hop on hop off bus. This is probably a far more economic way to see Rome and we set off after breakfast. It's pretty hot despite it being September and the sun continues to beat down,but we brave it and go off to see the colosseum. It's a pile of ruins but with ages of history behind it and as in all of Europe the history coupled with restoration and some very good guides,makes for an interesting event. To think that Christians were killed here while the Romans watched,and then to be told that almost all of the construction material had been taken away to build the basilica in the Vatican seems like sweet revenge. The Roman forum is also a pile of ruins but what remains is beautiful craftsmanship. Marble in all sizes lies around some with beautiful carvings. The old fountains,the gardens and all the buildings have a certain cemetery and to have buildings standing up after thousands of years even if they are in ruins,goes to show how meticulous the eye for detail and good construction was in those days.

Our walk takes us to the village of trastevera far from the touristy places and we are greeted by a real fat little man who is a good advertisement for his restaurant. The food has to be good. He is also one for the ladies as he kisses our hands and hugs almost all of the women there and does a little good natured flirting. Not offensive in any way in fact rated endearing. We meet a Dutch couple on our walk who very kindly pointed us to the right place. Yesterday one of the local ladies insisted I taste her food simply because I asked her what she was eating. A few choice phrases in Italian can make people smile.

We see the trevi fountain but sadly it's under renovation ,though that doesn't stop hundreds of visitors from throwing coins into its dry base. I go inside one of the many churches and am surprised to find many people on their knees praying. In a world that is so ashamed to acknowledge God,the Italians have no  problems with their God. The fragrance of many burning candles gives the whole church a quiet reverence.

We climb the many steps of the Spanish steps and if it wasn't for all the hype built up over the years it's just a lot of steps crowded with tourists.

Our list of places to see are all 

Wandering in Rome

Our second day in Rome starts early. Out at 7.30 am we are off on a tour to the Vatican museums,the Raphael rooms, St. Peter's basilica and the Sistine chapel. The place is teaming with people and guides and it's a long walk. We have to pass through security and the place is strangely modern. The walls outside are ancient befitting the place but the inside is not something I bargained for. The paintings and frescos are beautiful but it's too rushed a tour. I would need more than a day to see all of it . The Italian guide s accent is so strong we are having trouble following her but thanks to some basic knowledge of the bible and it's stories all is not lost.

The Sistine chapel has been on my bucket list for ages. What did I expect ...well this was certainly not what I expected,the ceiling was crowded with works and the crowds so dense it was a wonder we saw it all. It didn't impress me ,even at the risk of sounding like a philistine. It lacked atmosphere. Having said that I must admit to a wonder at the detailing of the paintings. Every muscle and vein seems to have been painted on. The depth of it all ,the almost real pictures can only point to a genius T work and if it took him nine years to do it it also required patience and dedication to the craft. To that I bow in admiration.

Raphael s frescos are also interesting for technique and the colours are all so vibrant. The mosaic on the wall is truly impressive and the ones on the floors even more so.

St. Peter's basilica was by far the most impressive. It's size and grandeur was not something I have seen anywhere on my travels. All very befitting of being the centre of the Catholic Church. My only disappointment was not hearing mass in the church. The square was everything that I imagined it to be  and the Vatican didn't disappoint in any way though a glimpse of Pope Francis would have been the icing on the cake .

We are told that St. Peter is buried under the altar of the basilica and if that's true then I have followed St. Peter and St. John and for that I am happy. 

We leave the Vatican and wander around Rome. It's streets are cobbled and narrow each one looking very much like the next. Ask for directions and they will throw their arms out and gesture wildly and talk in rapid fire Italian and be sure to not understand or find the place. Directions to place,maps of where one is etc ,all things one takes for granted in European cities is sadly lacking in Rome. We walk for miles and search for the pantheon and after many misses and having worn out our feet and digested our food,we chance upon it. Old ancient and crowded it nevertheless does impress. Brides drag their beautiful grows across the street to the many churches. In Rome if one trips,be certain you will fall into a church. The place is full of churches. Narrow lanes with high buildings create a certain charm and we loose ourselves happily in this very interesting city.

Pretty tired after walking for nine hours we decide to take a bus back. Only to be told that the tickets have to be bought in a shop and not on the bus,so we do that,and get on,but as no one seems to be punching their tickets we wait,until I spot someone doing it and having informed the husband of the procedure he insists I punch the tickets. My protests that to move in a moving bus where I can't reach the holding bars is next to impossible,fall on deaf years. He is more concerned of the embarrassment of being caught in  foreign country,with a misunderstanding that we may have been cheating. Finally not sure if I should put him through the stress I ask someone how the machine is to be used and get the job done.

Thankfully I belong to a generation that grew up without smart phone s and other electronic devices so human contact doesn't embarrass me. I am more than happy to strike up a conversation or ask someone to take a picture for me. The selfie stick is a new device that has further isolated people. Too many people are on their own with just the phone for company and that is the sad part of travel I have noticed so far. For now I am happy to wander my way.

Rome

Monday morning and we are ready to leave for the eternal city of Rome. The temperature in Germany was a cool 15 degrees but we are going south to the sunny Mediterranean. Our flight takes us across the Swiss Alps and from the air it's a lovely majestic sight. Range after range of mountains topped with creamy snow. Puffy clouds dot it in places and they all merge into a beautiful picture.

We arrive to a hot Rome the temperature is 25 degrees no the sun is beating down. Our roles are clearly divided ,the husband is official map reader and I am food decider and tour planner. No conflict there.

Our hotel is a cozy little place in the heart of Rome and the view from our room is into a monastery garden.

Rome somehow feels like home. Is it the fact that pigeons were running around on the train platform (the Germans will have a heart attract if they see a bird where it's not supposed to be), or the fact that our sweat starved skin is suddenly sweating again. The roads are not as clean as the other cities in Europe and the cars and bikes a parked randomly on the streets. Some of them park in front of other people's gates ,oh how familiar all this is. People cross the road without waiting for lights to change. The Italians drive as madly as we do in India. Not for them the order but more of chaos. They talk loudly and it's like a sophisticated version of India.

Our hotel staff give us some basic tips. At tea time,Romans eat gelato or drink espresso and not having tasted gelato we set off to a place that comes highly recommended and if the queues are anything to go by this has to be a good place or the people are just greedy. Doesn't disappoint the gelato is creamy and rich,this despite not having a clue what to choose on the menu,it all being in Italian.

Dinner is again a local recommendation and the pizza come oozing with cheese,the pasta with clams is to die for and the wine is local. What more can we ask for. Our first experience of Italian food in Italy has lived up to all the hype and we are a happy bunch.

Lazy Sunday

Sunday in small town Germany or for that matter in any place in Europe ,is a day of rest and a sleep in but if the local church is anything to go by ,a sleep in will be the last thing on ones mind. At six in the morning I Am woken up with the chime of church bells. It's some 8 degrees and all one wants to do is snuggle down and go to sleep but obviously God and the church have different plans for us. Every hour the church bells peel with renewed vigour and by the time the service is about to start there is. Long clanging of bells. Not to say this is a disturbance. I for one love waking up to church bells. Sadly no one is willing to go to church with me ,and not sure of things I also give it a miss.

A lazy day spent chatting with friends,a late breakfast and an even later lunch and then in the spirit of laziness we set off on a long walk to a nearby farm. It's a good uphill walk up country roads. Fields of clover meant for cattle are lined with apple trees laden with apples,some falling to the ground. Chestnuts and hazelnuts and berries of all kinds line the roads,all asking to be plucked. I eat an apple and huff and puff ,y way up to the farm.

Tea time for Germans means coffee and cake but seeing the hearty slices I decide against it. Of course the fact that day light is on till eight every night is even more confusing. We drink apple cider which is like a cross between a wine and a vinegar but tasty and I order sausages and sauerkraut. Not a great fan of cabbages even when fresh I decide to try this all German food only to find that it is like an Indian equivalent to rice in terms of portion size. One spoonful has me wanting to get away from it. The sausages are good and the long walk back doesn't make me feel too guilty but dinner is definitely not going to be a meal for me.

Back home and it's almost time to leave for Rome. Too soon our first part of the holiday is over.

The weather has been everything I hoped for

Lichtenstein castle

Five days is enough to get into some king of routine and mine starts with a morning walk. Used as I am to hot and humid weather I am not at all sure how eight degrees feel and can't understand how eight can go up to fifteen,the sun can come out,it can go from sunny and warm to bitterly cold. So like a proverbial cat I step put into the cold,watch the locals for a while and gather some valuable tips on how to dress like a local but I don't quiet get it. Having spent a lifetime wearing as little as possible it's a huge challenge to wear more than one piece but I compromise. I slept out in a heavy sweat shirt ( I think this is heavy but I don't have a clue) and jeans. No jacket as I think it's not so cold. Within minutes my breath is coming out like smoke rings,my hands are cold and I can feel the chill biting into my skin. Not having the key to the house to grab a coat,I decide to do some running. It warms me up. Talk of survival skills.

At seven in the morning there are very few people around but the baker is on his rounds and the aroma of freshly baked bread has my taste buds tingling,so I follow the sent which leads me to the local church compound where local traders are setting up shop for the Saturday market. The efficiency has to be seen to be believed. My mind goes back to India . At seven in the morning the local market will be littered with the rubbish of yesterday. Rotten fruit and veg will be strewn on the roads and cows will eat them,while the days vendors will unload their produce and litter some more. Back in Germany,the stalls are finer glass tents and cool trucks. Everyone has his own electricity supply so the fridge is running  the meats are cooled despite the temperatures being in single digits. The flower seller unloads a huge truck of produce. All flowers are placed in boxes and everyone cleans up after themselves.i search for litter and find none. The traders have their own designated spaces and there is no shouting no raised voices. Everything is quiet efficiency. I marvel at the difference.

Having filled our baskets with food and eaten fit to burst we set off on a long drive to Lichtenstein castle. Winding village roads through flat green meadows. Not a pot hole in sight. It's better than our highways back home. We hurtled down the road,the sharp wind whipping through our hair and the nip in the air is exhilarating.

The castle itself is old and small. Moats and little wooden drawbridges complete the picture. It's an old ducal property not grand in any way but equipped with chapel and smaller homes . The views are breathtaking. Chalk hills surround it and I am transported back to Enid blyton tales of children finding adventure in abandoned castles. Rambling roses climb every available opportunity and their sent mingles in the sharp breeze. It's all fresh and green . It's also a day for weddings so we have seen four brides already. Some built like houses but all in happy white flowing gowns. The guest are also in hats,dresses,suits etc. flowers everywhere,wine and food in abundance. I would like to get a sneak peek,but that's just a dream.

Back in the house we build a roaring fire,watch a French movie,drink our red wine and eat our home made pizza and are a happy bunch. It's warm and cozy and I am tucking away every little experience to be relived back in my hot and searing city.

Day 4 Germany revisited

It's day four of my trip to Germany and it's yet another wet day,but having done more of my share of eating and drinking than usual I am in danger of running out of clothes that fit me so unlike my usual self of needing company for a walk,I decided that the surrounding are too beautiful,the weather too perfect for me to laze in bed so I set off to explore the place on my own.

It is Germany so following in the footsteps of hansel and gretel I set off towards a park I remember from my last visit,mentally marking my surroundings into landmarks so I don't get lost. Not for me the smartphone dependence,I revert to type and follow fairy tales.

A long tunnel alwaits me,it's pedestrian only so no danger of cars rushing in my path. The sky is a brilliant blue,nip in the air,the grass is green and as autumn has set in the leaves in russet red are all over the green grass. The river necker flows through this town and at this time of the morning it's a still green not yet disturbed by ducks or swans. I continue on my tranquil walk not passing a soul and after a short walk I enter the park. It's a wide expanse of grassland with walking and cycling paths that lead to the railway station . A large glassy lake is the centrepiece of the park. In the early morning it's banks are dotted with speckled ducks of all sizes all busy packing for worms in the grass. A red squirrel bright eyed and bushy tailed is also busy cracking chestnut s in the area under the trees. I watch fascinated never having seen red squirrels before. The ducks jump out of my path and flee into the lake causing it's glassy surface to ripple with the movement. I am not sure how much beauty I can absorb without breaking stride but I simply have to. For someone used to walking in humid 30 degrees c this is a breathtakingly beautiful experience. Walking done the next thing on the agenda is market day. The main square is full of locals traders selling their produce,so vegetables,flowers,herbs,cheese,sausages and mushrooms of all varieties. Of course everyone has their favourite stalls. It's bustling and busy with people shouting out their wares and long line at the most popular ones. But we wait patiently fill our bags with a variety of produce. Sometimes it's greed to be able to feast ones eyes on such a variety of things. For a meat and cheese lover like me the variety is mind boggling and I am hard pressed to know what I want. There are a variety of soft cheeses some with odours like dirty socks,some with mould,some hard cheeses,olives filled with anchovies,paprika filled with feta cheese and sausages to eat on the go,pate varieties,and what have you . We spend a pleasant two hours and round it off with lunch sitting outdoors near a stream rushing by,a glass of wine to sip on and some great food to eat.

The afternoon is still young. Like most people in Germany our friends have a little allotment which they call a garden and it's time to spend an afternoon on a hammock doing nothing. While our friends set up a barbecue,and burn some unwanted stuff the husband and I discover the joys of plucking fresh plums and apples from the trees. Growing up we are used to throwing stones to get at fruit but we find a stick and get enough plums to eat. They are juicy black and taste like sugar. Then it's time to check if the bees are doing their work making honey. We need to feed them ,calm them down with smoke and check if all is well. I am a little terrified of being stung but can't resist the temptation of seeing a bee hive at close range and it's an experience I wouldn't miss for the world. The little cottage in the woods is well equipped with a kitchen bunk beds and a toilet,an outdoor shower complete the picture. By the time we finish with the bees the husbands have got sausages and a variety of stuff cooked,glasses of red wine ready and plenty of conversations to keep us going. As dusk falls and temperatures drop its curtains on another wonderful day spent in the company of good friends and beautiful surrounding and once again I send up a prayer of thanks,determined to spend every moment enjoying the beauty of nature that I am lucky enough to enjoy and be a part of

The farm

The day dawns wet and cool. We wake up to the view of the castle and blue skies laden with rain clouds. Very soon the sun peeps out and the sky turns brilliant blue. It's our day to chill and do nothing. After breakfast we wait for our missing luggage that's promised to make an appearance soon and in true German tradition the lost luggage is restored to us. It's time to celebrate and we do it the village way. A long walk around the village to take in atmosphere and to work up an appetite. It's a mild day not too many people around,the shops are open and we look into each of them  some quaint,some modern,some just ordinary but it's not the shops or the houses,it's the setting. Very much out of a fairy tale. Dolls houses by our standards,little windows peeping out of roofs,lace curtains,people who cycle with children in carriers behind them. All very efficient.

We have mastered the kitchen in the house so come home to a meal of fresh salad and rice . The ingredients like all chefs will tell you make all the difference. It's fresh and tasty and simple.

The afternoon is spent sitting on the balcony enjoying mild sun and just a nip in the air,reading a book.

Then a long walk (a brisk one this time) and its tea time already. Home made cheese cake and plum crumble cake and while my heart and head tell me I should steer clear of it,greed takes over and I shovel it into my mouth,never mind the guilt.

While the sund continues to shine we set off to a farm and as we enter and walk to the cow sheds the smell of hay,cows and cowsheds brings back so many memories of childhood. The cows here have no horns,and are brown and white with blond eyelashes. They look harmless enough chomping happily on a mixed feed of corn and some other stuff,things I have never seen and can't identify. The calves are just a few days old and unmindful of danger,they are more than happy to be petted and played with. It's a huge farm with paddock s for horses,cow sheds,tractors that bale hay,huge preparations being made for winter and much activity. Horses graze peacefully on the grass. Beautiful majestic creatures who clip chop down the cobbled streets as elegantly as a woman in high heels.

The farms have large tracts of land with winding roads and some which enter a dark forest. We take the part to the forest as for us this is a new experience. The silence is defending and the only sounds are of birds twittering in the trees. Chestnuts ,apples and pear trees line our path . Some laden with fruit. Walnuts trees are also laden with nuts. It's all there for the picking but no one does. Autumn has arrived and leaves turn colour and fall. It's peaceful silent and absolutely perfect.

European Union entry

After a sleepless night in cramped aircrafts we finally arrive in Berlin to beautiful weather. A clear blue sky and temperatures at 15 degrees is all that one can ask for. Enter immigration and then to a connecting flight but first we need our passports stamped for entering the EU. A long list of Asians like us in front of the line isn't helping. I am well aware of the current refugee crisis in Europe with Germany at the forefront so am well aware that they are going to go over everything with increased scrutiny. Our turn arrives and everything is fine but my passport gets into a loop. Someone at the embassy's has made a clerical error with my name and its an issue. They spend some twenty minutes scanning my passport,putting it through some machine or the other,asking a lot of questions,all the while our connecting flight is inching closer to departure and we are late. Finally while I move heaven and the imigratration officer moves the German system,we are through. We run through Berlin airport to find our terminal is well away but the stress of missing a flight keeps us going. Panting and puffing we pass security only to have me pulled off the line into a separate room. Now this is the stuff of nightmares,what did I have in my bag other than an iPad and a coat but they look through my things not telling me what the problem is. My iPad seems to be the culprit so the officer does some stuff on it then they'd look disappointed and tell me I am free to go. I promise myself never to watch " jailed abroad" as it gets my imagination running wild. We get on our flight happy to leave Berlin with its depressing airport which looks like it's a relic of communist East Germany bing dragged kicking and screaming into modern west Germany. Well we arrive at our destination  and our troubles don't end. The airline has lost our baggage . The husband thus has just a pair of jeans and a t shirt , and a hope and a prayer that they'd will find the suitcase. It takes the shine off the holiday. To me it seems like it's one problem after another but I tell myself that I need to stay positive. So we move on and take the bus to the village we are to stay in and suddenly it's back to familiar ground almost like being at home. We hail a taxi and are surprised to see a girl taxi driver who has been driving for five years. We get into the swank taxi which back in our country would be the car of the rich and famous. We watch while she put on the gps,we reach home and the taxi driver whips out an iPhone 6 to make a call ( in our country this again is not some thing a taxi driver can own). In our country the taxi driver is trying to make ends meet and we then come back to the realisation that we are in one of the richest countries in Europe and have to shift our understanding of rich and poor. Once again it's a learning experience for us. Well settled we rest for the afternoon and enjoy village life. It's five in the evening and everyone is already out drinking beer. The beer garden in full of people. The river is full of boats with people having a grill dinner on board or just drifting past. It's a beautiful day and we drink our beer eat our sausages and are happy to be here enjoying great company of friends,beautiful weather and to watch the world go by. How far removed from our lives in India. For the moment we are happy and that's the only thing that matters.

Cattle class in mid air

They don't call it cattle class for nothing. It's a cramped crowded aircraft where we are lacked like sardines and it is by no means a budget airline. Welcome aboard etihad airlines. Not quiet fooled by the Nicole Kidman endorsement,we chose this airline simply because it was the cheapest available but didn't quiet bargain for this. As we enter the air conditioning is full on so much so that one is quiet suffocated but it settles down soon enough. We are told to be our bags under the seat simply because there is no cabin space available. So much for security regulations but they did start the flight with a prayer so divine intervention won over mere mortal regulations. Guess I can't argue with that. The entertainment is fine but a convoluted yoga pose may find you more able to manage the entertainment console.,so I am giving it a miss and watching a silent movie.

Now what is it with Indian parents that they can't seem to control their kids or simply don't know the p of parenting. I sit here with a splitting headache thanks to a brat who was screaming fit to die and insisted of kicking the back of my seat with the same intensity as her screams. If a momentary lapse of reason results in a murder most fowl don't blame me. I finally understood why Herod wanted all children below two killed in biblical times. If they were anything like the ones on this flight ,I am changing my opinion of Herod.

We are actually being served food at almost eleven in the night. Shouldn't we be sleeping ?. What's with the misplace hospitality. 

Announcements in rapid fire Arabic is fine by me,the language is pretty musical but the English announcement is in some accent I can't detect.

Mercifully the kid behind me has either been sedated (highly unlikely) or has fallen into a tired sleep. Thank god for respite.

It's well past midnight and dinner is served ,vegetarians getting a half an hour handicap. At midnight I get fish with potato,and beans,rice and a sweet. Now in this cramped space and with the amount of carbs that have been consumed methinks there is no fear of running out of jet fuel. There is enough gas being generated by passengers to take this flight all the way to Berlin and back. What ever were the chefs who dream up this food thinking of. Why not a nice healthy salad and some fruit at the witching hour. My legs have gone to sleep and I refuse to think of deep vein thrombosis at this point. 

Now for all the bitching I've done on this first leg of my journey well it's probably a good thing. I have lowered my expectations to an all time low. Of course if your anything like the husband then the Angels will bless you. There he is in deep slumber and I can hear content little snores from him. He has been sensible and not had his midnight meal and has drunk enough water to drown this aircraft but all said and done here is one happy individual taking care of himself while I write my bitchy piece .....must find lots of positives to write about after all God and man love a merry face and they are still 24 days to go.

Women's empowerment

The subject of women's empowerment has been discussed to death. Every day I read of women protesting about their rights. In many cases it takes extreme forms,some women walk naked around the streets to prove they are comfortable with their bodies,some women wear skimpy clothes to let people know it's their right to dress in a certain manner. Recently I eat about a woman who refused to wear a tampon because she wanted the topic of menus ration  to be in the public domain. Someone else decided to tell the world it was her choice to sleep with as many men as she wanted to. Well said perhaps. I totally agree that as women how we live our lives is entirely our business and take umbrage to the fact that men think they can tell us what we can or cannot do. Having said that I also believe that men and women think differently ,view women differently and treat women's issues differently .

If protest takes the form of the image that men have dictated to us for every and every in my books that is not empowerment. Do men have to take off their clothes to prove they are empowered. I have seen ,many a beauty pageant contestant talk of being empowered and having talked to them,it becomes very clear that the haven't a clue what they are talking about. Walking around in a bikini to be judged the most beautiful body by an Army of men isn't exactly empowerment is it. To me dressing is a question of personal taste and body type. It's not about being a fashion victim. What do women always define empowerment in terms of dress, body fluids,sex and body type?. Ask yourself who put the rules in place? What happened to our brains,our moral choice,our principals,our ability to compete as intellectuals in a level playing field. The rules ones lives by have to be made by oneself,but it will take into account ones abilities,ones environment and various other factors. To trivialise women's issues to some selfies,or not wearing tampons and running marathons just goes to show how shallow our discussions will be on the subject. I admire women who have raised above their male decided stereotypes,women who have made a difference to people's lives in many ways. True empowerment comes when what you do makes a difference in the world. If it is just another stunt to attract attention then in the interest of many women like me,please do call it by a different name,thank you

Broken spirits

A favourite ditty in school went like this...."a merry heart is like a medicine,a broken spirit dries the bones". Sure that this was a biblical verse that was taught to us but years later having mastered in psychology and having to deal with people all the time,it amazes me how true it is.

I wouldn't describe myself as an eternal optimist I face I probably lean toward pessimism more like. Over the years as life threw a few hardships my way this lesson came in as a handy dictum. 

What is it about people that makes some give up so easily and others to see the bright side of like.

Living with a negative person requires tremendous will power to rise above it. My mother gives up easily,she wallows in misery and it keeps he going but to deal with it can be the biggest challenge one faces. Of ours illness and old age are all causes for worry and feeling listless can ,make most people low in spirit but when it consumes ones life it can get difficult. 

Having said that I have watched women give up the better part of their youth to care for old parents with not a murmur or I'll temper. Most of them emerge out of this suddenly finding their lives empty having not lived through youth yes strangely satisfied of a job well done and hope for a better tomorrow. So does it all come down to the eternal question of genes vs environment.

To give back for what you have received is a loving things to do,but for someone like me on the cusp of optimism and pessimism it's an eternal tight rope walk. Prone to doubts and depression myself it is a battle to keep spirits up more so when one doesn't have the luxury of choosing any one. I read and escape to the world of fiction only to find the characters in my books have similar situations,it gives me strength,then I talk long hours to like minded friends who form the core of my support group.

Writing it all down helps too,but the sure short way to keep still and keep going is to escape into a happy world ,for some it's fiction,some take to drink some to friends but what ones chooses to escape into is also decided by ones personality. Am I the kind who thinks I am in charge of my life or do I believe that someone decided and I follow. Happiness unfortunately can't be outsources,it comes from ones core,it is in our hands and no one else can do it for us and therein lies the dilemma.

Crime and punishment

Our years at school were spent dodging one punishment or the other. With the strictest of head mistresses we were prone to bumping into punishments lurking in each corner. Running down staircases was reason to be caned with a thin bamboo stick that really hurt. Shouting across to friends meant standing on our chairs for the duration of the class. Throwing stones at trees to get a fruit meant a dose of castor oil to purge our stomachs ( and considering the sorry state of our unhygienic toilets) this was a punishment we all dreaded. Our parents unlike the ones of today didn't rush to school to take up our case,we were told in no uncertain terms that we needed to deal with it ourselves and that was that. Press the issue too much and we would be told that there is no smoke without fire. Either way we didn't stand a chance.

Did that stop us from doing all the stuff that we did? No way, in fact we became rather good at getting away with it. While we didn't develop any long lasting love of our teachers,we did grow up to be a tough lot. Some scars yes but who doesn't have those. Overall we learnt to face trials and difficulty with a stiff upper lip and got on with our lives.

Today as we laugh at all that happened we tune in to this world of ours as it is today. Today if the same things happened to us,we would have spent more time at the school counsellors office or ended up in a psychiatric clinic doing therapy. Our parents would have rushed to reprimand the teacher without questioning if we were at fault. We would have changed schools all the time and thought that running away was the way to go and ended up as adults who were ill equipped to face the world,who ran away at the slightest indication of stress,we thought the world owed us a lot and that we didn't have to give anything back. We would have in short become the wimpy kids and even worse,the petulant adult. In retrospect am I glad I had strict parents,and yes I didn't enjoy school as much as some kids do today but I got an all round education on life ,not confined to academics alone and for that I heave a collective sigh of relief.

Bribery and corruption

Every now and then there is a hue and cry about bribery and corruption and everyone out shouting the other. Smacks of self righteousness but I have no issues with bribery and corruption having practised it for years in one innovative form or the other. Of course it goes under the garb of different names, motivation,gifts,rewards etc but most often than not it is used to get something or to make someone do something I want them to do. Various children have been bribed with sweets or stories anything to keep them quiet and give me some peace. Considering none of said children were mine I had no qualms about it.

Now many years later I am faced with an elderly parent who is given to mood swings and depression and being of a certain age she unfortunately cannot be bullied hence I indulge in some good old fashioned trickery. Being die hard foodies the only way to motivate us is to offer the promise of food preferably deep fried and forbidden . Being food snobs doesn't help either so it had to be home made using the best ingredients etc I am sure you get the drift. Sunday is for us the worst day of the week. The parent in question (deprived as she is of her daily dose of the most regressive but hugely popular soaps)goes into depression mode. With nothing to keep her busy the mind wanders into places we would rather it didn't. On a particularly difficult Sunday when my own spirits dipped I decided in desperation that I would cook all the food that is normally her forte ..of course I was relaxed about it and went about it with great nonchalance but it worked. The parent and her strict quality standards were put to test and before I knew it she had taken over the kitchen and the cooking. Call it underhand call it what you will but desperate situations required desperate measures and if bribery and corruption works then so be it I personally have no issues with it

Yoga giving me a headache

 Its been seven years of steady yoga practice and a few before that. Not being a morning person it's still amazing that I get up at dawn to go for an yoga class. Simply put when one lives in a hot place the way I do ,the only decent time to exercise is before the sun rises. Also the slow pace of the exercise itself,the fact that over the years I can now touch my toes and do fairly convoluted poses gives me a sense of well being. I enjoy the class but not for me the emotional spiritual and physical miracles that many an yoga practitioner waxes eloquent about. June 21st has been declared world yoga day and like all the other designated days there is a frenzy of activity. Anyone and everyone is talking yoga. While the rest of the world took the practice and made it their own in the country of its origin its mired in controversy and mistrust. If something is good talk about it propagate it but don't shove it down people's throats. Remember free choice freedom to do what one wants to do. Sadly in our country it has moved from a healthy practice to one everyone is getting tired off. Overkill has never benefited anyone or anything. Children being forced to practice yoga,never mind that yoga practised the wrong way can do more harm than good. But when you take away a child leisure time and force them to do something they may have done left to themselves one has lost them already. Surely yoga must be left to the experts.shouldnt governments govern instead of acquiring lifestyle s. Till June 21 we as a people are being subjected to overkill and the jumbled conversations of the government the practitioners and the experts is adding to the din which quiet honestly isn't giving me any inner harmony,more like a splitting headache from which I am unlikely to recover before the 21 June. And so here's to me standing on my head and chanting om 

Fear is the key

Fear is a slow emotion that creeps up on us much like weight gain. With the advent of social media and the ever loud 24/7 news channels news is all pervasive entity. Unfortunately it's never good news it's just a constant dose of violence and bad news that we can't get away from. Some may call it change and perhaps it is that but over time it leads to anger that gives way to despair and then to insecurity. Sadly insecurity breeds fear. 

Gone are the days when I walked fearlessly on the road,now I look over my shoulder constantly. Now driving is no longer pleasure it's stressful one is never sure who will box you in or who will give in to road rage. Gone are the days when boys and men were good friends and uncles and friends dads were just that. Today everyone is viewed with suspicion. The pat on the head,a bear hug have all been robbed of their innocence.

Old age was a time to enjoy the fruits of ones labor but today old people are victims robbed for their wealth,preyed upon for their vulnerability.

In this atmosphere of a changing world fear grew like a weed,slowly strangling me of my confidence.

I always faced the world on my terms,learnt to survive in a cutthroat world,I juggled many hats,bore many stresses,survived as a brave and confident woman. The age like fear crept up and before I knew it it was there like a shadow, lurking in the background waiting for a vulnerable moment waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting soul. It started with the small thing ,a few small mishaps in the car,a fe small mistakes in the kitchen,small things that could have become large issues,and then the questions start,then the small voices whisper,they ask if you're loosing it, maybe your not as sharp as before,perhaps it's a sign of things to come. It's only a matter of time before fear has won and you are reduced to a shadow of your former self and the choices are limited. Face the world and overcome fear or withdraw from the world to the safety of ones own world.  That critical choice will determine ones sanity and quality of life. Sadly it's a choice we all have to make sooner than later