Twenty- five Seven

Personally speaking

Recent Posts

  • Of suckling pigs and melting cathedrals


    The last time I visited Madrid I was staying in a boutique hotel , a concept quite new to an unseasoned traveler like me. In my mind boutique was cute, quaint and personalised. What I didn’t expect was a bathroom in the bedroom – ensuite and transparent leaving everything to full view. Well, that didn’t appeal to my sense of comfort so I opted for a well known chain of hotels closest to the Atocha railway station from where I intended catching the first train out to Barcelona for a day trip to see the La Sagrada Familia.

    It turned out that my choice of NH Sur which was bang opposite the station was not particularly wise because apart from the location there is nothing else to recommend the hotel. The check in desk was four steps lower than the lobby entrance and there was absolutely no bell boy to help drag my suitcase down. The tiny lift was just about enough for me and my bag but the worst was yet to come………..no air conditioning. The manager apologised profusely and said that just the week before Madrid was so cold that they had to turn on the heat but I realised this is an old trick played by all European hotels. They just can’t be bothered to keep their guests comfortable.

    The good thing about a bad ac is that you want to spend as little time in the room and get so exhausted that you just fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. So after a breakfast which consisted of pig, pig and more pig, we set off on the Hop On Hop Off bus to get an “overview” of the city. Our first stop was the Royal Palace which was officially closed but we were lucky to get a grandstand view of the changing of the guard complete with brass band and handsome soldiers! While we waited for the bus to lumber up we had a quick beer and tapas at the Sabatini cafe close by – totally touristy and playing only to the gallery.

    After going through the city we stopped off at the Prado to visit one of the MUST see museums of the world. Following my principle of keeping to the MUST see exhibits, we picked up a map of the museum and breezed through the different rooms oohing and aahing at the appropriate paintings. Truly it was amazing and definitely more pleasant than the modern art we had seen the day before at the Reina Sofia.

    That evening we spent exploring the environs of the Plaza Mayor and had dinner at the Cafeteria Christina where we were served by Pavan Kumar Bansal! While I would have much rather have been served by an authentic Madreleno I realised that since I was eating Italian in Madrid, I couldn’t expect to be served by a native!

    My real quest in Madrid was to eat a suckling roast pig at the famous Le Botin or at La Galayos. Unfortunately my dining companions were either vegetarian or stuffed and since I couldn’t eat a pig by myself, I had to give it a miss. So I will have to go to Madrid yet another time to sample the famed roast piglet.

    The countryside sped by in the high speed train to Barcelona, a city so vastly different from Madrid. The only word to describe it was huge and I realised that a day was just not enough to see it and my idea of doing a Hop on Hop Off was impossible. So we hopped on to the underground and did just the two stops that were possible – the La Sagrada and the Gothic city surrounding Barcelona’s cathedral.

    Stepping out of the Metro station at Sagrada I was simply amazed to see the huge Gaudi cathedral looming straight ahead of me. The first word that came to mind was shock! It looked like one big gingerbread house about to melt down. Unfortunately there were huge queues so I didn’t even attempt to go inside but I am sure a conducted tour would have revealed even more than what I could see.

    Gaudi’s unfinished work though gave me the heebie jeebies – fantastic, awesome and yet undeniably creepy a feeling which was not replicated thankfully at the old Cathedral in the Gothic quarter of this ancient city. I loved walking through this maze of old stone buildings each one more stunning than the next. Eventually I stopped taking photographs for fear of not being able to soak in the atmosphere and enjoying the feeling of being transported back in time. Barcelona’s cathedral is open to visitors in the afternoon and you can easily spend an hour or more listening to the lovely organ music played by the organist whose head can be seen bobbing behind the pipes. Take the lift to the top and get a rooftop view of the entire city and then come down to the square below to get yourself photographed with the letters that spell BARCELONA.

    TIPS :

    • If you are a piggy back traveller like me ( holidaying while the spouse is working) choose a hotel that is well located. The hotels in the Atocha district of Madrid may be pricey but you will be able to walk to most of the sights
    • The Metro is safe and easily doable – so don’t jump into the Hop On Hop Off unless you want a roof top view
    • Tapas is highly over rated and most of the Sangria is passable so go for Spanish food in places where you won’t find tourists…
    • Walk through the Retiro park, walk through the city
    • Keep at least three days to enjoy Barcelona 

     

    Enhanced by Zemanta

  • The Curse of the Broken Hearted Mother

    Mai Bedekar was distraught. Her only daughter was getting married to a man she did not approve of and there was nothing she could do about it. In small town Kolhapur of post Independent India all she could really do was hide her head in shame – shame because her daughter was marrying out of caste and shame because she was not broad minded or modern enough to accept the changes in society. At least that is what Tai Borker told her.

    “Come on Mai, be a bit more progressive. After all isn’t that what we Brahmins are known for? Our modern outlook ? How can you still be bound in the past? ”
    But Mai was not convinced. Her daughter Lata was her pride and joy . The darling of the family . Her brothers doted on her as did her late father . She was smart and beautiful, an MA in English and was much sought after within the community. But Lata was struck by Cupid’s arrow and had lost her heart to her college sweetheart . Gopal Gupte who undoubtedly looked breathtakingly handsome in his Air Force uniform was known to be a darling of a boy. But he was not a Brahmin boy and not worthy of her daughter’s love.  Why couldn’t Lata be the dutiful daughter and listen to what her mother said?

    Unfortunately all Mai’s pleading fell on deaf ears especially since Lata had the backing of her neighbour Tai Borker. And Tai Borker was a woman to reckon with. No one messed with her. Tai was the eldest daughter of the town’s most successful lawyer and the widow of another equally successful lawyer. In spite of the fact that she was “uneducated” she was well read and well respected. And generally when Tai decreed something it was accepted as the gospel truth.

    And Tai had decreed that she, a Brahmin widow, would not only support Lata and Gopal but would also perform the religious ceremonies celebrating a Hindu wedding including the “Kanyadaan” , a task traditionally undertaken by the bride’s father.

    So Mai Bedekar sat alone in her darkened prayer room, and begged to God to right the wrong, to heal the wound inside her, she prayed for justice , however long in the future while Lata and Gopal went around the sacred fire. The tiny lamp in the devghar flickered and Mai counted her prayer beads but still she couldn’t quieten her racing heart.

    One by one Tai Borker’s children got married. Each one of them unhappily so.

    Twenty years later the first of Tai Borker’s grand-children got married. It was an arranged match but a wrong match. The marriage was stormy and both parties were unhappy. They stayed together only because of the child they had and also because divorce was still an ugly word.

    Two years later, Tai’s first grandson got married. His too was an arranged match that was terribly mismatched and terribly unhappy. The grandson threw out his wife and fought a bitter divorce battle for ten years.

    The second grandson got married and was unhappy for the next fifty years.

    The third grandson refused to get married as did a grand daughter.

    The third, fourth and fifth grand daughters were unhappily married. Two of them divorced their spouses, while one waited it out.

    But the spirit of Mai Bedekar was still not appeased…….

    Tai Borker was by now long since dead yet one of her great-grand-son’s died mysteriously when he was just twenty years old.

    And Tai’s great-grand-daughter married against her parents’ wishes encouraged by others including family, those who clapped and cheered while the mother’s heart broke into a thousand pieces.

    Mai Bedekar’s soul was now at peace. What goes round comes round. And another cycle began to turn.

     

  • Noodles, Apple Pies and Fries in Amsterdam

    Image for shop selling French Fries
    Vlaams Friteshuis Vleminckx which serves the best French Fries in Amsterdam

    As an inveterate foodie, I had three items on my menu to during my recent trip to Amsterdam: Looking for  The best Noodles, Apple Pies and French Fries

    The best Fries in Amsterdam

    Firstly, French Fries are not French but Flemish ( or Belgian to the initiated) and are found in a tiny street off the mad buzz of Kaalverstraat the street of high fashion off the historic Dam Square. As you make your way past this mad street of shoppers looking for bargains in shoes and jackets, your nose will suddenly be assailed by the strong smell of chips frying . At any given time there is a long line queuing up for the fries that are truly golden brown, piping hot and delicious . And when they are

    “[bctt tweet=”The smallest serving is large enough to leave you stuffed and full, ready to march on ahead for the next hour or so” username=”viaunishta”].”

    Alas, not for me the BEST fries in Amsterdam but the next best which are to be found right on Damrak opposite the oldest/first stock exchange in the world –  at Manneken Pis giving due credit to the fries’ Belgian origins. But I’m not complaining. With a light drizzle falling, nothing could be more comforting than the slightly crunchy and yummily munchy french fry dipped in creamy mayo.

     Apple Pies in Amsterdam

    During his visit to Mumbai, my Dutch friend Marcel had told me that the best apple pie in Amsterdam is in Cafe  Papeneiland, famous for its home made apple pie. It is now even more famous because Bill Clinton bought one specially to take back home with him. Now a Dutch apple pie is truly the best in the world – crisp outer pastry, a tart spicy apple filling and a generous dollop of whipped cream…………But this will have to wait for another time for we truly ran out of time to eat……..

    The best Noodles in Amsterdam

    I did achieve ONE GOAL :  best Chinese in Amsterdam at  New King smack in the Red Light District in the Chinatown of Amsterdam. Small and cramped though it was, the place was vibrant  with young and old chomping to their hearts’ content. The cuisine was typically Mandarin, the service impeccable and the company divine. So the next time you are in Amsterdam and craving for a bit of noodle go to New King. It won’t hurt to make a reservation though to avoid any disappointment.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started