Vietnam diary

People were always perplexed when I told I was honeymooning in Vietnam. Questions ranged from ‘What’s there?’ to ‘Why not Mauritius’. An honourable few told us how cool the whole thing was. We chose Vietnam primarily as a compromise option. Most places where too cold (Europe) or too far (South America) or too much in the peak season (Australia, South Africa) or too honeymoony (Mauritius). In the end it turned out to be an excellent choice with beautiful scenery, tasty food, pleasing lack of Indians and a mild list of tourist spots that could be easily ignored when we felt like relaxing.

The first stop was Hanoi, the rich and old seat of the original Vietnam. We stayed by the Hoan Kiem lake, near the Old Quarters at the Sofitel Metropole. Filled with wonderful restaurants, green paths by the lake and a busy shopping area, it provided a quick feel of the city. We popped into say hello to Uncle Ho whose embalmed body is on display at the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and got a guided tour by an enthusiastic, propaganda- spouting guide. The Temple of Literature close by was also charming, with mundane structures that had interesting names like ‘The Well of Clarity’. LP had recommended a few museums as well. But we decided to stick to their restaurant recommendations instead in keeping with our plan to primarily relax.

From Hanoi, Halong Bay was a 3.5 hour drive past a countryside that looked stunningly like someone had taken India, shaken out all the dirt and Indians and filled it up with Vietnamese. Halong Bay itself was an impressive stretch of limestone rocks sticking out from the ocean. We stayed in a private junk cruiser (Columbus Adventures) for a couple of days and tried our hand at Kayaking and visited floating villages located entirely on the sea.

From North Vietnam, we moved to the Central parts. This was the bit that had divided the communist North from the American-controlled South. We, however, stuck to Vietnam’s ancient history instead of venturing into the recent past. The first stop was Hue which was filled with 15th – 18th century structures like the citadel, Du Luc tombs, Pagoda etc. From there, we moved onto Hoi An, stopping at Danang on the way. Danang’s chief delight is the Museum of Cham sculptures. The Chams were a Hindu race who had reigned from 5th to 15th centuries in Central Vietnam. The sculptures were of Hindu gods and goddesses and an excellent reminder of how much the Indian culture had travelled back then.

From Danang, it was onto Hoi An and its wonderful beach and old town. We were at the Victoria Hoi An beach resort, which had cottages with large windows overlooking the beach. The old town, which has UNESCO world heritage status, was nearby. The old town bordered the river and one could wander through the narrow alleyways, checking out old houses, temples, museums, souvenir shops and art galleries. We spent an entire morning there and came back in the evening for more.

From there, we headed to Ho Chi Minh City, as Saigon is known these days. HCMC is like any other bustling metro – women made up a notch more fashionably than the rest of the country, tall buildings, crowds and nothing much to see but a lot to feel. A friend took us to the wonderful Saigon Bar at Caravelle Hotel, commanding a view of the famous Rex hotel where the American headquarters had been located during the Vietnam war. We also managed to squeeze in a trip to the impressive Cu Chi tunnels the next day. The intricate network of tunnels had taken twenty years to build and contained tunnels too narrow for non-Vietnamese, with booby traps to kill anyone who did get in. Sadly the AK 47 shooting range near the tunnel was closed and we could not try our hand at it.

Taken in slowly, am sure there would have been a lot more depth we would have discovered in the country. We were happy enough with the sights and sounds we managed to see. The food was delicately flavoured and light and the long walks ensured both of us returned looking happy and healthy. Perhaps if we had not been on honeymoon, we would have probably done the quick tourist round of Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam in the ten days we had. In the end, it was worth taking the time and carrying memories of slowly driving through the deserted, hilly Hai Van pass with the ocean by our side far below.

Matheran-Karla-Bhaja

Just when the monsoons have started retreating, I have discovered the pleasure of travel in this weather. Good Chennai kids don’t travel during the rains. You stay put at home, and complain about how it is pouring and amuse yourself with indoor games. Considering we get so little rain, rain needs to be treated with the respect due to it.

Not Mumbaikars.

Come rains, and everyone is out taking a walk under the clouds.

I learnt this early on, when I first moved to Mumbai. A friend’s colleague had organised a hike to Matheran. To my great surprise, we were not the only people out. Walking in the blinding rain and coping with slippery paths, were packs of brightly dressed people. We followed them. Though only upto a point. I am not sure at what stage we lost sight of them since I was busy concentrating on urging my foot to take the next step. We blundered on our own, and scrambled up the hillside, occasionally using nothing but tiny bits of grass as a grip to prevent us falling into wide abysses. When we eventually reached Matheran, I was relieved to just be alive.

Years later, one Himalayan trek under my belt, I had still not gone back to Matheran. But a couple of weekends ago, D decided to make plans. And we were on our way.

I discovered there are fairly conventional and pleasant ways to go to Matheran as well. One can take a private car or a train and shared taxi upto Dasturi Naka. From there you have the choice of taking a toy train (not operational in the monsoons), hiring a horse, taking hand driven carts or just walking up to the top.

We chose the last option and spent a lot of time lingering over the views. We had not realised till then that away from Mumbai the rains had still not had finished putting up a spectacular display. From the market to the Verandah in the Forest, where we were staying, it poured and poured. It continued to pour through the day and the next as well. Which was good fun, because I got to act like a good Chennai kid in the rains. We read books, watched the rain, played cards, ate huge amounts of food and griped occasionally about how it was pouring. When the rain let off a bit, we went for long walks and marvelled at the stunning views in the countryside, full of fresh looking vegetation punctuated by white waterfalls.

One trip had hooked me and Saturday, I was back traversing the area around Mumbai. This time the destination was Karla and Bhaja caves, a spot I had been eyeing for a while. Both of them are located close to Lonavala and a train to Pune gets one there in about 2.5 hours.

We got off at Lonavala and hired a car for the day (1000 rupees to show both spots and bring us back to the station). The driver was a teenager who told us later on that he had learnt driving a couple of months ago. We could have guessed the way he took the curves upto Karla. Perhaps the Ekvira temple at the top protects its tourists, since we got there alright.

Karla is more than 2000 years old and is built on the same lines as Ajanta- Ellora, though much smaller. There is one main cave, or the Chaitya and a lot of smaller caves which served as living rooms for visiting monks. The most interesting feature is the curved ceiling decorated with wooden beams, in an imitation of wooden architecture from that period.

As luck would have it, Karla and Bhaja also seemed to be a major picnic spot for school kids. Swamping us were about 1000 school kids, all intent on throwing coins on the Stupa to see if they could hit the top.

So much for calm Buddhist meditation.

We moved to Bhaja after an uninspired lunch at the nearby MTDC hotel. Bhaja was much calmer, largely because they were fewer kids. But also, because Karla has a living temple in its precincts, it tends to attract more people who linger longer.

Both places had lovely views. The weather was pleasant, with an occasional drizzle adding to the charm. It is the best time to visit both places, because I am fairly sure the uncovered stone steps leading upto the caves are likely to be very tiring to conquer in any other season.

Rounding off this weekend, I managed to watch Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. There have been millions of remakes of this movie, some of which I have watched. The shower scene has been endlessly analysed. What new stuff can this movie offer, was the major thought that was playing in my head before turning on the TV.

It was brilliant. The movie had a pace that set my pulse racing the way only books have done in the past. I can’t wait to watch the rest of the movies in the ten pack set lying in my house. And I would suggest anyone who can't resist good movies do the same.

Doing Nothing

This was a post I had written about six months ago

"By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all His work.” - Genesis 2:1-2

In most places, we pretty much rest on both the sixth and seventh days. Or atleast, theoretically we are supposed to. Not in the great urban milieu. Between going to the gym, attending my French classes and fitting in a social life, my weekends moved at supersonic speeds. That was till I spent a Saturday morning lolling around in the bed. I have promptly abandoned, if not the routine, atleast the guilt involved in not sticking to the routine occasionally. Life seems a little more relaxed.

It turns out it is not just me. Almost everyone in the urban landscape seems to be doing it. I spoke to an old colleague who chanted out her routine –gym, therapy, massage or parlour, family bonding time, children’s school shopping. She actually found going back to office on Mondays restful.

Another colleague spends most weekends driving down with her family to Pune to play golf, gets stuck in rush hour traffic both ways, helps her son with his homework between trips to the course and hurriedly squeezes in gym time before leaving.

There is a Calvin strip in which his dad justifies their lousy camping holidays on the grounds that their normal lives will seem so much better if they traumatized themselves on vacation. The new mantra of weekend busyness seems to be based pretty much on that. Kill yourself in the weekend trying to juggle multiple things, and the office politics, unbearable deadlines and target pressures on weekdays will look positively relaxing.

The option of course is to sit at home, with a good book or a nice movie, take a deep breath and then spend your time wondering if you are the only loser doing nothing.

Personally, I think Doing Nothing as a hobby has been grossly underestimated. When I have Doing Nothing time, I end up finishing niggling little things that tidy up life like clearing up my mailbox or filing away my papers. I end up talking to friends from out of town (the ones who are not busy rushing from point A to point B) or long lost relatives. I read the multiple magazines I subscribe to and the interesting stories on topics I would not have normally read about. I catch up on mindless TV. I gaze out at the lovely sea view my house provides.

And somewhere during the course of writing this entry and abandoning it, I seem to have given up on French, I go to the gym in the weekdays and spend weekends Doing Nothing.

Life is great.

Water water everywhere….

“10 per cent water cut from today”

Page 4 of Hindustan Times screamed.

I sat up with a bolt

No longer was I the languid Mumbai morning person browsing the papers in bed. My mind had travelled back in time to when I was a kid in Chennai, filling buckets and drums with waters during those terrible years of terrible water shortages. Terrible, terrible.

I read through the entire article.

“The delay in Bombay’s monsoon was causing this shortage”

No surprise there

“Mumbai receives its daily supply of water from six lakes – Modak Sagar, Tansa, Vihar, Tulsi, Upper Vaitarna and Bhatsa”

Hmmm. More lakes than Chennai. That does not sound bad.

“While the water level of Vihar has reached its lowest – 152.52 m, Tansa has water that can be used to supply the city only for the next few days”

Gulp

“Alarmed by the dipping water levels, the civic officials…”

Ah. I knew the public authorities would swoop right in and come up with some engineering miracles

“….. have performed pujas at the Tansa and Vaitarna lakes”

Huh.

Really?

Time to get out those buckets and drums.

How to prepare Mediterranean Grilled Fish

Save recipe sent by sis in the recess of computer.

Four months later, in a burst of enthusiasm order 500 gms of fish and invite friend over to help cook.

Read recipe and notice it calls for Mediterranean seasoning like parsley, basil and olives. Quickly consider switching to Kerala Meen curry. Quickly switch back upon evaluating level of skill required for Kerala Meen curry

Call up local grocery store and find out they stock everything (!)

Chop up 4 table spoons of basil, 1 table spoon of parsley, 1 table spoon of garlic and mix in bowl with 2 tablespoons of juice of lemon.

Use brush bought a few weeks ago to rub each piece of fish with olive oil. Feel super professional.

Arrange fish on grilling rack, douse with herb mixture and toss some freshly ground pepper on top.

Stuff into microwave cum grill.

Cook for 5 – 6 minutes, take out and begin process of turning fish over to the other side.

Notice grill is hot, drop the rack and watch the fish plop on the floor.

Sit by as friend picks up pieces and puts them back on the grilling rack and explains that the microwaves should kill any germs caught from the kitchen floor.

Repeat process of coating fish with herbs and cooking in grill.

Take out, garnish with lemon slices and green olives and eat.

Feel the fish get your intelligence levels up and realize that you don’t particularly care for fish, grilled or otherwise.

Delete recipe.