Brompton Cemetery, First Snowdrops and Yet More National Gallery

Jan16

Friday, January 16, 2009
London

A cemetery is not a place in which you want to get lost–and certainly not on a dull sunless day! So I did feel quite edgy at Brompton Cemetery this morning as I examined the grave stones and admired the sculpted statuary. I had first heard about Brompton Cemetery from Bill Bryson’s video version of his famous travel book called Notes From a Small Island and when I passed by its gates while in a bus, a few weeks ago, I decided that I would explore it when I could.

As it turned out, the cemetery was deserted. But for a few dog-walkers and cyclists who studiously ignored the signs posted everywhere that said “No Cyclists”, there was no one around. The sun was conspicuous by its absence and while I was in the cemetery between the two gates that flank Brompton and Old Brompton Roads, it actually started to spritz–thankfully this spray lasted only a few minutes.

Brompton Cemetery, designed by Benjamin Baud, is one of the finest Victorian cemeteries in the UK. Several well-known Londoners are buried here such as the suffragette Emmeline Pankhurst and there are walking tours given by “The Friends of Brompton Cemetery”, twice a month on Saturdays. The grounds are laid out in a formal style and there is a chapel, built in Neo-Classical design, in the center that is surrounded by private family tombs. Though it is still a working cemetery, most of the burials were carried out from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s.

What I found most interesting is the fact that Beatrix Potter is said to have taken the names of many of her animal characters from tombstones in the cemetery as she lived in a nearby complex called The Boltons. Without a map it was impossible for me to find the prominent Victorians buried here, so you can imagine how delighted I was to discover that when I paused to take a picture of a particularly well designed gravestone of an artillery officer who died in World War I, I found myself bang in front of a tombstone of a certain Mr. Nutkins! Other characters in Potter’s work, such as Mr. McGregor, Tod and Jeremiah Fisher also have namesakes in these burial grounds. Though this is hardly the kind of venue that might be considered a tourist site, I found myself enjoying the peacefulness of my surroundings and it was hard to believe that I was in the midst of Earl’s Court in the bustling village of Kensington.

It is easy to understand why Potter was inspired by this space for in the absence of human beings, there were a large number of furred and feathered friends keeping me company. Fat squirrels with bushy tails followed me everywhere, pink (yes, pink) pigeons were perched on angelic gravestones and I even saw a raven right besides a grave that had been freshly decorated with a bouquet of very brightly colored flowers.

And talking about flowers, I was so delighted to come upon my first ever snowdrops, the tiny little white flowers whose drooping heads are so-called because they bloom even in the midst of blankets of snow. In the United States, these flowers are rarely seen (I have certainly never seen them except in pictures). When I found them ringing the periphery of a gravestone, I gasped, then bent down closely to examine them before I took pictures to immortalize this moment. Snowdrops are also said to be Nature’s first sign of the arrival of spring and if that be true, then it won’t be long before other more colorful flowers will bloom everywhere.

It wasn’t long before I caught a bus that brought me to Trafalgar Square where I spent the afternoon examining the work of Dutch painters of the 17th century including Rembrandt. I took a much-needed rest at the computers where I have been trying to find the locations of the paintings cataloged and explained by Homan Potterton in his Guide to the National Gallery. When I finished this task, I started my exploration through the galleries and was especially struck by the work of Franz Hals and Vermeer. And, of course, I paused for a very long time to admire my favorite painting in the entire gallery–Pieter de Hooch’s Courtyard of a House in Deflt. Though this is only a small painting, I find it exquisite in its portayal of detail. The ordinary life of middle-class Dutchwomen during the 19th century is so evocative that it never fails to hold me spellbound every time I feast my eyes on it.

By 5 pm, London was draped in a dark shroud and it was time to get back on the bus home. I paused at Foyle’s, perhaps London’s most famous bookshop, on Shaftesbury Avenue and browsed through some of their current titles, then stopped off at Sainsburys to buy a few groceries, before I made my way home to write this blog.

I am still waking in the wee hours of the morning (4. 10 am today) but I forced myself to return to sleep and then awoke at 5. 45 am only to discover that I still did not have Internet connectivity. I was on the phone with an Indian call center assistant who called himself ‘John’, who informed me that my connection was rather weak and that I should call again after 8 am. This time, I spoke to an assistant with an Afro-French accent who apologized and told me that the technicians at Virgin Media are aware of my problems and will try to fix them as soon as possible. Since it was still early in the day I sat down to tackle my Scotland scrapbook and by 9.30 am, all my pictures were mounted in my album. Now all that’s left is captioning of the photos and I will be done.

I then turned to the designing of my South Asian Civilization course as an independent study module and had a great deal of fun working out challenging assignments for the 2 students who will take my class through occasional tutorials and a monthly ‘lecture’ style meeting. This took me over an hour to accomplish, so that by the time I went in for my shower it was past noon. I only got out of the house today about 12. 45 pm which left me with only four hours of daylight to play with. That’s when it occurred to me that a visit to Brompton Cemetery might be the best thing to do–and off I went!

It was a rather unusual way to spend an afternoon but I have no regrets. Now all I have to do is visit the other famous London cemetery, Highgate, and that I shall do when it gets a little warmer.

Still More National Gallery, NYU Orientation Lunch and a Bus Ride to Hampstead

Jan16

Thursday, January 15, 2009
London

I do not have Internet connectivity at home, which is the most frustrating thing in the world! As a result, I could not check my email as soon as I awoke this morning (at the slightly less unearthly hour of 4. 50 am now, not 3. 30 am!). I used the time to finish reading Scattered Seeds, an anthology of photographs and short essays edited by Dorothy Dady, containing profiles on diasporic Anglo-Indians in various parts of the English-speaking world. I had the pleasure of meeting Dorothy in Richmond in November when she gifted a copy of her book to me. Reading the material it contains carefully has been a deeply enriching experience and I hope that she will now assist me in networking with the many Anglo-Indians of all ages based in the UK whom she had the occasion to meet through her work.

At 8.45 am, when I finished reading the book, I finally got out of bed to eat my breakfast frittata (with a sausage and coffee—I am trying to avoid carbs) and take a shower. By 10 am, I was heading out the door and walking to Fleet Street to take the bus to Trafalgar Square as I wanted to see a bit more of the 17th century European paintings. Trying to locate them through the basement online catalog took me a good half hour and left me with another half hour to browse through a couple of the galleries before I hurried to the Reception desk in the Sainsbury Wing to catch the 11. 30 am “taster” tour of the collection, which was given by a docent named Elizabeth Allen. I was rather disappointed by the tour because it covered only 5 paintings and dwelt on them in so much detail as to become rather uninteresting after the first five minutes. She chose to present The Battle of San Romano by Paolo Uccello, an Altarpiece of the Madonna and Saints by Andrea Mantegna, The Finding of Moses by Nicolas Poussin and a version of the same subject by …. And Turner’s Hercules Deriding Polyphemus, which is considered the Number One item in the entire collection. A great deal of time was spent on the history of the museum and the manner in which the collection came to be accumulated and I often feel that viewers can always read this up on their own. It seems a pity to waste time while they are in the galleries on such extraneous information.

Then, I was hopping into a bus to get to Bloomsbury for the NYU Orientation Lunch for sophomores who have arrived in London for their spring semester. The luncheon that was held in The Venue in the ULU (University of London Union) building did not, thankfully, comprise the small tea sandwiches that I have grown to expect on every such luncheon menu. Instead, there was a decent hot lunch with Chinese Noodles with Mixed Vegetables, a Vegetable Lasagna and really good Chicken with Cashews in a Mushroom and Wine Sauce. Dessert was Lemon Cake and Chocolate Cake but having fuelled up on lunch, ( I was starving by the time I filled my plate), I merely tasted the cake and decided to forego the pleasure. The luncheon was a chance to meet my colleagues again and catch up with them and to force myself to think about the return to the grindstone next week.

After lunch, I spent about an hour in my basement office catching up on my email, which I finally managed to retrieve. I discovered that there are only 2 students registered to take my South Asian Civilization course. However, since one of them needs it to fulfill a degree requirement, it cannot be dropped. Dean Schwarzbach has suggested that I run it as an independent study course rather than a formal course, which means that it is now left to me to restructure it entirely as I see fit. I will probably meet with the students informally in my office in tutorial setting and I shall assign readings and movies to be watched by them in their own time. I am excited to have the opportunity to teach a course in this way—apart from the fact that this will now free up my Tuesdays leaving me with a regular teaching assignment just once a week.

Since there was still daylight outside my basement window, I decided to take a bus ride to Hampstead Heath in order to be able to view London by night from Parliament Hill (so-called because Guy Fawkes and his fellow-conspirators met here to plot the overthrow of Parliament in the Gunpowder Plot and intended to watch the building blow up from this high vantage point!).

The Number 24 bus from Bloomsbury took me to Camden Town, which allowed me also to discover where the famous Camden Lock Market is located—perhaps something I shall explore tomorrow as I hear that it is mobbed on weekends. In less than half an hour, I was at Hampstead Heath and on asking for directions, found my way up Parliament Hill to a fine peak studded with wooden benches from which the sparkling lights of London’s landmark buildings made an appealing sight. Despite the fact that darkness had fallen, there were still enough people on the Heath walking their dogs and the setting reminded me very much of Salman Rushdie’s novel Fury as the male protagonist lives in Hampstead, as also of a number of movies I have seen in which scenes were shot on Hampstead Heath. I really did enjoy my twilight foray into this lovely park and I intend to return to it again when the weather turns warmer and the days are longer.

Back on the Number 24 bus, I arrived in Bloomsbury where I caught another bus home. To my disappointment, I discovered that while I am able to receive messages, I cannot send any. I also cannot access the Web from home. Deciding to make the most of the rest of the evening, I began scrap booking—putting into an album the pictures and other memorabilia that I collected on our August trip to Yorkshire and Scotland. Since I arrange all my photos in albums of uniform design—all with burgundy covers–I managed to bring one back with me from the States during my Christmas trip and it is this one that I can now fill with my clippings. I spent a good hour and a half doing this before I decided to get myself some dinner.

Jetlag is still dogging me and I find myself nodding off by 8 pm and awaking at 5am. Hopefully, I will be able to return to a more stable routine soon.

More National Gallery, A Jo Malone Facial and a Mayfair Walk

Jan14

Wednesday, January 14, 2009
London

I had a lovely day to remember. Despite the fact that the sun was nowhere in sight, it was mild enough to make walking pleasurable and I stashed a variety of experiences into my day. I haven’t yet gotten over jetlag and I did awake at 3. 30 am once again, tossed until 4, 30 am, then spent an hour in bed finishing up The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga. I have to admit that I find the book sorely disappointing and simply cannot understand why it received the Booker Prize. Amitav Ghosh’s Sea of Poppies was far more impressive in its sweep, its historical perspectives and its literary achievements, I think.

I lost internet connectivity this morning, so decided to make myself some breakfast before I had a shower and left at 9. 45 am for the National Gallery where I hoped to cover the six rooms that comprise works from the 16th centuries. The huge canvasses by Paolo Veronese and Titian were quite marvelous indeed and The Four Elements by the Belgian artist Joachim Beuckelaer featuring Earth, Air, Fire and Water were a revelation. Since I got there early in the morning, I found the galleries quite deserted–a fact that made my contemplation of them much more enjoyable.

Then, I took a bus to Brooke Street just off Old Bond Street where I had a 12 noon appointment for a Facial Workshop at Jo Malone. I was really looking forward to this session as I do love Jo Malone products very much and it is always interesting to discover her new lines and fragrances. I was offered a choice of champagne or tea and, of course, no marks for guessing that I chose the former.

As I settled down to my one hour session that included a complimentary facial and a hand massage, Ranjeeta, one of the Sales Associates introduced herself to me. Together with Caroline, her beautiful black colleague, I felt thoroughly pampered. It was no surprise to me that “Jo’s” Avocado Cleanser and Rosemary and Mint Toner would feel divine. I am quite familiar with her fragrance line, of course, my own favorites being Grapefruit, Pomegranate Noir and Orange Blossom. However, when Ranjeeta slathered my face with a luxurious White Nectarine and Honey Mask and gave me a relaxing massage, it felt quite blissful indeed.

While the mask did a deep nourishing job, she worked on my hands, massaging them with the exfoliating Vitamin E Scrub that contains sugar crystals and salts and almond oil and then treating them to the Vitamin E Gel for which Jo Malone is famous. When she was done, she sprayed a combination of Pomegranate Noir and Orange Blossom colognes all over my hands and then returned to my face.

When the mask was wiped off, she slathered on a small amount of the magical Vitamin E serum and a goodly amount of the Jojoba Cream and mixing them together, she applied them lovingly to the contours of my face. I have to say that my skin glowed and felt like a million quid!!! So heavenly! I noticed then that all the tiny black scabs that had formed after my face was cauterized in Bombay to remove a collection of minuscule skin tags and warts on it have entirely disappeared. After the beating it took during the cauterization, this was really the best time to pamper my complexion and nourish it and hopefully the little red spots that have clustered around my face in their wake will disappear completely with time. I am glad I had the courage to go ahead with the cauterization process in Bombay and I am glad that I chanced to come upon this promotion at the Jo Malone salon–indeed it could not have come at a more opportune time for the cauterization and the pollution in Bombay have done a number on my skin and it is time to get it back on the road towards healing. As if all this were not enough, I was presented with a small bag containing a sample of the Vitamin E gel and the newest fragrance, Sweet Lime and Cedar, in a small purse spray. As the treatments were being carried out on my face, I sipped my chilled champagne and felt as if I could not have asked for a more delightful treat.

Then, I browsed in a few stores in the swanky Mayfair area. Everything is the stores is heavily discounted and were I someone who enjoyed shopping, I guess I could have had a field day. As it is, I prefer to window shop. When a bus came along, I hopped into it as far as Marble Arch from where I intended to launch on another one of my self-guided walking tours. I am resuming them a long time after becoming diagnosed with plantar fasciitis, so I chose a rather easy one based on the heart of the Oxford Street area.

The walk is entitled “Hangings and Hoaxes” and when it left the bustle of Marble Arch behind–interestingly, the site was once known as Tyburn Street and was the venue of grizzly public hangings that attracted countless spectators–it took me into the quietest mews. I passed by the blue plaques that proclaimed the sites of former homes of famous authors–Wilkie Collins, author of The Moonstone and The Woman in White, the first detective crime fiction ever produced; T. S. Eliot; and American patriot Benedict Arnold. Passing by a couple of hotels in the vicinity, I learned about Victorian murders and subsequent hangings. There were a couple of interesting stories associated with parliamentary conspiracies as in the Cato Conspiracy and a hoax associated with Lady Tichborne’s family. I particularly enjoyed visiting a pub called The Windsor Castle on Crawford Place which was filled to the ceiling (quite literally) with royal commemorative memorabilia such as plates and mugs and bowls and busts that were piled in the windows and on the walls and in specially constructed niches on the ceiling. Indeed every inch of space inside is taken by this amazing collection and I was very glad that I asked the bartender’s permission to browse through the rooms and marvel at their treasures.

Then, quite by happenstance, I found myself on Portman Square passing right by the premises of Habibsons Bank, in which our family friend Bande Hasan is the CEO. On impulse, I decided to pop in and, if he were free to see me, to say Hello to him. As it turned out, he had just finished his lunch and insisted I have a cup of coffee and some biscuits before I set out once again on my tourist route. We caught up on the happenings of the past few weeks and I was particularly intrigued by his accounts of the many shoots he has undertaken. As someone who has recently taken to shooting, he talked about his success with stalking and shooting pheasants, partridges and pigeons and about the feasting that is a part of this very English tradition. After exchanging pleasantries for a good twenty minutes, I was on my way again arriving on Edgeware Road, at the end of the walk.

I hopped into buses that took me slowly back home. Indeed it was excruciatingly slow along Oxford Street and I couldn’t for the life of me see why the bus crawled the way it did as there wasn’t the sort of frenzied crowds that were in evidence prior to Christmas. By the time I arrived home, darkness was falling over the city (the sun now sets at about 4. 30 pm) and I was relieved to discover that I did recover internet connectivity and was able to retrieve my email. A couple of hours spent with my PC gave my feet a much-needed rest before I decided to do a bit of cooking–a Sausage and Feta Cheese Frittata and a Stir-Fry with Mixed Vegetables.

Then, it was time to eat my dinner while watching some innane commentary by the “Fashion Police” on th red carpets outfits worn at the Golden Globe Awards. By the time they were half way through it, I was nodding off on the couch.

It was that darn jetlag playing up again!

Tea with Blair, Post-Christmas Sales and Return to the National Gallery

Jan13

Tuesday, January 13, 2009
London

Being still jetlagged, I awoke at 3. 15 am, tossed and turned until 4. 15 am then gave up attempting to fall back to sleep. Since I am clearly still on Bombay Time it made sense to spend an hour reading The White Tiger, Aravind Adiga’s Booker Prize winning novel that my friend Firdaus Gandavia, aka Dr. G, gifted me in Bombay. While it is stylistically unusual and entertaining, it is hard to see what made it deserve so prestigious an award. But perhaps I should reserve my judgment until I finish the book.

A half hour devoted to my blog followed by a call to my parents in Bombay made me realize that I miss them sorely, every single one of my family members with whom I spent two recent weeks–Chriselle and Chris included. Dying to hear their voices again, I dialled eagerly and was delighted to catch up again with my parents whose new refrigerator has been delivered. All is well at Silverhome with geyser, water filter and lights all behaving as they should and a brand new fridge in the kitchen to boot. My mother is stress free for the moment, she says…

Breakfast (eggs and coffee) was followed by an exercise session (I am trying to be religious about getting in four sessions a day) as I continued to stretch my plantar fascia while watching Vikas Swarup, author of the novel Q&A appear on the Breakfast Show. He is the new Boy Wonder, now that his novel has become an international cinematic success with a new name–Slumdog Millionaire. Unlike most authors who have a stack of rejection slips and several unpublished manuscripts tucked away somewhere before they attain recognition, Swarup’s first novel, written within two months, found an agent in merely a few tries and a publisher soon after. Bravo!

More chores followed–the folding and putting away of laundry, the washing of dishes. Then a long and lovely shower and I felt prepared to face the day. First stop: The Leather Lane Street Market where I bought fresh fruit and vegetables. With the new year having dawned, I am trying to eat more salads and intend to end each meal with fresh fruit. I then disappeared down the Tube stairwell to buy myself a monthly bus pass. Back at home, I stacked my produce on the kitchen counter before I ran out to the bus stop to take the Number 8 to Marble Arch where I had made an 11 am appointment to meet my friend Blair Williams and his wife Ellen, visiting from New Jersey, in the basement cafe.

I stopped en route at the Jo Malone store on Brooke Street to make an appointment for a Facial Workshop for 12 noon tomorrow–a session that will be accompanied by a Champagne Tea! My, my, how special that made me feel! I intend to try a variety of their newest products as I am a huge Jo Malone fan. Then, I hurried off to M&S and found Blair and Ellen entering the same elevators that I took to get downstairs. How was that for timing? I was next enveloped in a warm bear hug as my friends reunited with me on British soil.

Over a pot of lemon and ginger tea, we caught up. Blair and Ellen are on a long spate of travels around the world. Their next stop is India tomorrow and then on to Singapore and Hongkong, Vietnam and China. We talked about my research on Anglo-Indians as Blair had been my chief source of inspiration and encouragement as I had launched upon this inquiry. We were joined shortly by Hazel Egan, a college classmate of the Williams’. After about an hour, I left the group to their own nostalgic reminiscences and made my way out.

Having missed the post-Christmas sales for which the major department stores in London are noted, I decided that I simply must take a look even if it is rather late in the day. So, hear this, all your shopaholics out there, ALL of London is on sale! From the glitz of Harrods and the High Street to the smallest holes in the wall, retailers have slashed prices and massive signs proclaiming sales everywhere seem determined to entice the shopper. I took a bus to Knightsbridge, heading straight for Harrods, and found myself overwhelmed by the number of items piled high up in bins that are up for sale. After browsing through a few, I chose a few luxurious goodies in which to indulge–Woods of Windsor Soap Packs in Lily of the Valley and Lavender fragrances and silky body moisturizer from Floris in the … range, to which, believe it or not, I had become introduced on Air-India flights. The airline used to stock Floris’ moisturizer and cologne in its restrooms once upon a time!

In the food halls, I picked up a loaf of fresh Walnut Bread, an almond croissant and a chocolate scone and over a cup of free Java at Krispy Kreme donuts (courtesy of the new Obama Presidency), I had myself a carb-rich lunch–sigh…just when I made a resolution to cut them down. I could not resist strolling through Laduree, the upscale Parisian tea shop that has a branch at Harrods, but I did draw the line at indulging in their world famous macaroons–another time for sure when I am feeling less virtuous! Someone had once told me that you needed to spend a penny (or a pound, quite literally) to use the rest rooms at Harrods, but I discovered that this was far from true as the basement restrooms were not only free but well stocked with a variety of free cosmetics as well!!!

Another bus took me to Fortnum and Mason where I browsed around their Sale merchandise. I was disappopinted to discover that there wasn’t a fifty per cent sale there as everywhere else. I did walk out with a lovely perfumed candle in Pink Grapefruit though–I really do have a weakness for this aroma–one of the few items that was offered at half price. It felt wonderful to have been able to buy a few things at least at these satisfying prices and though all Harrods’ Christmas puddings had gone, I was glad I did buy two earlier in the year–one of which we ate in Southport at Christmas and the other at New Year in Bombay!

I then hopped into a bus again that took me to Trafalgar Square where I intended to spend a few good hours back in the galleries. ‘Back’ because after Plantar fascitis had hit me, I had given up my study of the paintings there and intended to resume them after my feet felt less strained. Having covered the Sainsbury Wing last semester, I started my perusal of the 16th century with Homan Potterton’s Guide to the National Gallery to help me along. Locating the most important canvasses through the catalogue in the basement, I then spent a while in the company of Leonardo da Vinci and Michaelangelo and Corregio, Lucus Cranach and Hans Holbein, Andrea del Sarto and Raphael. The galleries were largely empty and, in many cases, I had them entirely to myself. I realized that I have missed my solitary sessions in museums and that I am happiest when wrapped in lone contemplation of canvases by Old Masters.

Then, it was time to take the bus and return home to a quiet dinner and some TV. London is usually mild for this time of year and it was a pleasure to walk its streets and browse through its attractive shops. As the week goes by, I hope to fill my moments with many more such pleasurable activity.

Just before I switched my PC off for the day, I did make a booking to Oslo, Norway, for the end of February. At a pound per journey on Ryanair, it was irresistible and since the Youth Hostel in downtown Oslo was able to offer accommodation, my plans were made within minutes. It is just such offers as these that make my stay here in London so worthwhile and I look forward very much to many more such spontaneous trips of this kind as the semester moves on.

Back ‘Home’ in London

Jan12

Monday, January 2009
London

London slumbered under leaden skies as my Jet Airways aircraft landed at 7 am from Bombay. It was one of the speediest flights I can remember taking. Nine hours vanished in a blink as I slept soundly for almost six of them, then spent the last three watching The Duchess, a film I had wanted to see in the theater but missed. It was spellbinding from start to finish and I could see why comparisons were made between the spirited Georgina, Duchess of Devonshire in the late 18th century and Lady Diana Spencer, who just happened to be her descendant. Played quite splendidly by Kiera Knightley, the portrayal of the Duchess was one of sheer pathos that was matched scene for scene by Ralph Fiennes who played her callous and powerful husband, the Duke. Apart from the injustice that women, even aristocratic women, had to contend with in a hypocritical age that was rife with double standards, the film was extraordinary for its settings and locations and at the end of the movie, I took down the names of the various locales used during the shooting with the idea of visiting these estates.

I also saw the end of the Bollywood movie Taare Zameen Par–I had watched most of it en route to Bombay, two weeks ago, but we had landed in the city before I saw the heart warming denouement. As I sniffed my way through the two movies, my travel companions seemed bemused by my sadness. I can see why my mother is so much in love with Aamir Khan. As for me, I am no longer besotted by movie stars.

Jet Airways’ Inflight service is just fabulous. I did not just feel well looked after, I felt positively pampered. Meals were substantial and delicious (yes, I know that this is airline food we’re talking about here) and the crew were courtesy personified. Apart from the fact that my one bag took forever to get to the conveyor belt, my travel from Bombay to London was worry free. I tried calling my folks in Bombay to tell them that I had touched down safely but discovered that my cell phone was out of battery. It would be a while before I reached my flat and could charge it.

I took the Tube home, alighting at Holborn and choosing to walk the ten minutes to my place. London was predictably dreary though exceptionally mild. At the Krispy Kreme donuts shop right outside Holborn Tube station, free Americano coffee was being dished out and I gratefully joined the band of morning commuters to get my cup of Java which I nursed carefully on the walk along High Holborn. I was amazed at how much like Home London now feels to me. It was like returning to the embrace of a warm and trusted friend and as I arrived at the door of my building and had it opened by a welcoming Martha and Arben (janitor and concierge respectively), it seemed as if I have known them forever. It was wonderful. By 9.30, I was opening the door to my flat, just delighted to be back in this space that I have so grown to love.

I charged my cell phone and a little later was calling my Dad as well as Chriselle who happened to be at my brother Roger’s place. Hearing her voice was heart breaking to me as was that of my nephew Arav’s and I know that I will miss everyone of my immediate and extended family for the next few days as I settle down, once again, to my solitary life in this city.

Then, my chores began–there was a load of laundry to do and a suitcase to unpack. There was a boiler to be switched on again– to do which Arben visited me briefly. There were 128 email messages to be downloaded and read and NYU email to be reviewed. Because I was not online in Bombay, I had so many things to catch up with. My friend and fellow Anglo-Indian scholar Blair Williams from New Jersey happens to be here in London. I shot off an email to him and before long we were talking on the phone and making plans to meet tomorrow for coffee. I felt full of beans, despite my long haul across Europe and it seemed like a good time to do some blogging. I stopped for a soup lunch then continued reading and responding to email.

I realize how much I enjoy the quietness of this flat and the fact that I can so purposefully get to work to accomplish my goals. In the process of unpacking, I found a set of house keys that Llew and I had misplaced during his November visit. That was one mystery solved. I had to rearrange my wardrobe a little bit to accommodate the clothes and pairs of shoes I picked up from Southport and carted off to India–mostly formal wear for the many weddings I attended.

Between unpacking and sorting and reorganizing my toiletries and medicines in the bathroom, the day passed by, rather unhurriedly. I miss my parents, Chriselle and Chris, my brothers and my nephew and niece (especially after I donwloaded my photographs and looked at the video clips I shot), but it is so good to be back. Despite the dullness of the weather, London felt oddly welcoming and I am slowly unwinding from what was a very emotional departure from Bombay.

Tomorrow is another day and I hope my spirits will feel lighter than they do today–and more rejuvenated. I have a week to spend as I wish before teaching begins next week and I really do want to use it productively. I have given myself one day (today) to unwind and get over jetlag, but it will be back to business for me with a vengeance tomorrow.

Bombay Blues!

Jan12

January 10, 2009
Bombay

I have entitled this installment ‘Bombay Blues’ because it has been a hectic two weeks in every sense of the term–physically, mentally, emotionally–I feel exhausted and badly in need of TLC. In the many years that I have spent vacationing in Bombay, I have rarely fallen ill. This time, the Bombay Bug hit me within 48 hours of arrival, leaving me nauseous and bilious and causing me to miss my little nephew Arav’s birthday party. Indeed, I lay fast asleep in this bedroom as he cut his Barney cake and frolicked with his buddies. I also missed the wedding that evening of my relative Marilyn Dias as I simply couldn’t stand the thought of boogieing on a night when I was so weak on my feet.

Just as I recovered, Chriselle caught the bug and was laid up for a couple of days and then just when she turned the corner, Chris fell victim to it! He seemed to have taken it far worse than we did as he slept for almost two straight days and succumbed to such terrible weakness that he did not feel quite like himself until several days had passed. He and Chriselle made the most of their few days in Goa and did actually find the courage to feast on Tiger Prawns despite their delicate bellies!

Three more weddings followed thereafter, not to mention the pre-dinner parties that accompany such festivity in India. We drank and ate far more than we are accustomed, stayed out in the open air till the small hours (subjecting ourselves to the ill effects of the ‘dew’–as my Dad puts it) which then brought on colds and exposing ourselves to Bombay’s pollution, which then brought on my hoarse throat. Still, I’m not complaining. The weddings gave me the chance to meet the members of my extended family who converged on Bombay from all over the world and to reconnect with a few cousins whom I have not seen in eons. We exchanged email addresses and have promised to stay closely in touch. That’s the beauty of these wedding receptions–they bring family together like no other events can do and I love that aspect of these occasions.

I was especially pleased to be able to spend time with my cousin Blossom who was visiting Bombay from Madras, at a time when she is healing from the loss of her husband Placid. In the mutually satisfying chats we had together, we were able to communicate our mutual concern about those things in life that most worry us as we grow older with our children. It was Blossom who introduced me to her homeopath, Dr. Alpana Nabar, in whom she has deep faith–a faith born out of eight years as a patient. Alpana was confident that my plantar fascittis can be cured through homeopathic pills and I have returned to London with three months supply. She has also recommended that I continue with the exercises three times daily. My friend Fr. Austin Norris then added the third ingredient to the mix–prayer–which he said would finally do the trick and make me right as rain again!

Apart from physical issues, a great deal of emotional stress also dogged me throughout the trip to Bombay. The sight each year of my parents who seem to get slower, more frail and delicate every time I see them, only serves to put me in a state of dread for their future health and well being. Though I was pleased to see that, by and large, my mother is weathering up to her various afflictions rather stoically, it was still pitiful to see how much of a shadow of her old self she is today. My Uncle Alex is no less weak and pathetically thin as he too deals with the trials of a serious illness. Visiting my ailing relatives is difficult indeed and I had to find every ounce of strength to carry out these duties. So while the wedding celebrations continued, there was also the challenge of integrating once again with close family members who have seen better days.

Reconnecting with Chriselle was also marvelous. Much as we missed each other throughout the four months that have kept us apart, the close proximity of our lives over the past two weeks as we battled with my parents’ minuscule accommodations and the occasion that her recent engagement offered for us to re-examine our lives proved to be emotionally charged. The mother-daughter bond, so precious at this time of her preparation for a wedding, was reinstated and I am hoping has left us both with valuable insights into how much we love and cherish each other as we have bungled along. As always, it was a joy to be in her company, to chat with her late into the night, to admire her astute perceptions and the manner in which she analyses situations and experiences. I find myself thriving in the warmth of her energy, her vivacity, her joie de vivre, and having these two precious weeks with her was a gift from above for which I am very grateful! I am struck by the fact that now that I have become a transnational, it was not in the USA or the UK that I reconnected with my daughter but in Bombay, the city in which we spent the happiest early years of our lives together and which continues to hold the fondest memories for the two of us. Introducing this city to Chris was a shared pleasure as was inducting him into the Indian cutlural ethos.

Getting to know Chris over two weeks in Bombay was for me a wonderful thing and I came away with nothing but admiration for the manner in which he dealt with the lack of privacy or a space to call his own as well as the trials of illness in a strange country. He was severely disappointed that the studio apartment that we thought would be at his disposal for the length of his stay did not actually materialize, but he took it with grace and fortitude. The attempt to procure the studio led us on a wild goose chase through the bureaucratic set up of the Bombay Police–an institution that is Kafka-esque in the extreme. The fact that Chris says that he will be back in Bombay again next year is proof to me that he had a great time and made the most of his stay in India. His sense of humor never failed him even in the most trying of times and for that I was awed. Not the least of the many images I carry back with me is Chris’ obsession with the Bombay mosquito menace. It seems that he was paranoid about getting malaria and despite being on malaria pills spent every waking hour chasing and attempting to control the mosquito population in the vicinity of Silverhome, my parents’ building. By the end of the visit, we nicknamed him the Mosquito Patrol!

But eventually the late late nights, all in a row, took their toll on all of us. Jetlag and mosquitoes kept us tossing at night while the peace of deep dawn sleep was shattered by an endless row of vendors who rang the doorbell at the crack of dawn. Lack of sleep caused nerves to remain frayed and tempers ran wild. That too, I guess, is part of the package deal of reconnecting with family members across the generations. In the midst of the adjustments we all had to make, it was fabulous to get to know my little nephew Arav so well and to see how beautifully my niece Anaya has grown. Both Chriselle and I felt as if we connected with Arav in a very special way and despite the paucity of time and the illness we all went through, we were able to play with him, dance with him (at the weddings and parties), read to him, watch movies with him, meet his friends, etc. and for a short time at least, become a part of his life. Anaya is still too little to be able to connect with us on the same level but we look forward to the day when she too will be five and will be fully acquainted with her relatives across the seas.

My friend Betsy Ives from Southport, Connecticut, did arrive with her friend Edele Hovnanian for a couple of days stay in Bombay and I was able to give them, as well as Chriselle and Chris, a lovely walking tour of downtown colonial Bombay from the Taj, site of the recent terrorist carnage, to the Victoria Terminus where there were even more casualties. They seemed to have enjoyed it immensely and I look forward to downloading our pictures so that we can have perpetual memories of a very interesting morning. The tour confirmed for me my own love of the city of my birth and to come to grips with the many changes it has undergone over the years. Most recent evidence of its loss of trust were the many security guards posted at strategic city locations and the locking of gates at institution buildings that were once wide open for exploration.

Finally, a word about the hospitality we experienced everywhere, starting with my parents who spared no pains to make our stay as comfortable as possible even at the expense of their own comfort. Chris told my mother repeatedly that he would always remember her marvelous breakfasts of fried eggs and bruns–the breakfast bun with the crisp outer shell and softer center. My dad, as always, took his role as host very seriously indeed and catered to our every need by going out in search of special dietary items to suit the vagaries of our temperamental tummies–pomegranates, orange juice, guavas, the finest apples, papayas and melons. My brother Russel had his entire routine disturbed by our presence, but took it all in his stride. Though we jostled for closet space and mirror time, I think, in the end, it will be the bustle created by just these restrictions that brought us all close together and will provide memories over which, no doubt, we will laugh as the years go by.

I will always cherish memories of the lovely New Year Day Party that was hosted by my parents at their place and which brought together so many of my closest family members in a shared spirit of fun and friendship. My Dad had one of his sing-alongs which was a treat indeed and my Mum put forth a laden table that included the traditional delicacy, roast suckling. Despite their advancing years, my parents still enjoy opening their home and heart to loved ones and, in doing so, they have taught us valuable lessons on hospitality and generosity.

I met almost no friends on this trip, spoke to only a few on the phone, and went out for meals only rarely. Indeed I was unable to eat pani poori and kulfi falooda at Elco–a practice I started many years ago on my trips to India. However, I went through the process of cauterizing the many warts on my face that have developed over the past few years through a viral infection. Sheryl Sen in Oshiwara, Andheri, did a good job, though I was a nervous wreck throughout and quite mangled the hands of my poor sister-in-law Lalita who might have thought I was in labor the way I wrung them! I was a hideous sight at the weddings as my face slowly went through the stages on the road to healing. Still, having placed myself in the ‘cauterization mindset’ before I left London, I was determined to find the courage to go through the process despite my needle phobia and I hope to have a clear complexion before I return to teaching classes next week.

It was a very different 2 weeks in Bombay for me. I’m not sure how I will remember them in the long run, but I am glad that Chriselle, Chris and I had the chance to spend precious time with my parents who at the end of our visit had their own nerves shot by a fault in the electric system that cut off the lights one evening, a refrigerator whose compressor chose to shut down the following evening, a water filter that began to drip at the same time that the geyser in the bathroom also sprang a leak. How my parents took each crisis as it came and found a way to resolve it was a lesson in patience and practicality for me. I accompanied them to one of Bandra’s new malls to check out a new fridge and in the process learned a great deal about how differently Bombay and its people function.

At the end of the day, both Chriselle and I found the experience of returning to Bombay rather overwhelming but just as I began to get used to my new environment and to function effectively within its framework, it was time to bid my goodbyes to my nearest and dearest and leave the city of my birth behind me.

A White Connecticut Christmas!

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Monday, December 22, 2008
Southport, CT

If I had been dreaming of a white Christmas in Connecticut, I would not have been disappointed. Snow is piled up about 6 inches thick and the driveway at Holly Berry House is a skating rink. Not having driven for four months, I am a nervous wreck behind the wheel as I try to coax our Toyota Camry to climb the slight incline towards our garage. I have a bit of shopping to do—gifts for folks in India and ingredients for our Christmas meal. But this evening, I will be meeting my pals at dinner at Bangalore Restaurant in Fairfield.

It turns out that my friend and world travel companion Amy Tobin initiated the move that would bring a few of her closest Fairfield friends together for a Reunion to coincide with my visit home. After much mass-emailing, the group finally found a mutually convenient date…except that in the morning, Llew called to tell me that the volume at work was so intense, he seriously thought he would miss the meal altogether. I called my friend Amy de Lannoy and asked her for a ride and she came with husband Dan promptly at 7. 20 to pick me up.

What a lovely raucous reunion we all had at Bangalore! There was Mary-Lauren and her husband Brett, Bonnie and husband Art, Amy with Dan and, of course, Amy Tobin with her Significant Other Rothschild whom, except for Llew and myself, none of the others had met. In fact, they had almost begun to believe that Rothschild–more elusive than the Scarlet Pimpernel –did not exist beyond Amy’s imagination. The folks at Bangalore gave us a private room which allowed us to be even more raucous all evening long as we caught up on all our news. I was so thrilled to have been able to see so many of my Fairfield friends again at one go and I am very grateful to Amy Tobin for setting this up and to Amy de Lannoy for coordinating the effort.

Llew, of course, was missing, and as the resident ‘India Expert’, I was invited to order our meal. Amy de Lannoy, who knows Bangalore and Indian food better than the others, consulted with me and we settled for Lamb Biryani, Chicken Tikka Masala (Amy T’s must-have), Navratan Korma, Shrimp Chemeen Curry, Chicken Tangdi Kebab—and all of the food was delicious. Every one of us relished the meal to the very last morsel, so that by the time poor Llew turned up, the dishes did not require washing! However, he was able to join us for a glass of wine while a few of us opted for masala chai. Conversation never stopped for a second as we discussed everything—from Chriselle’s engagement and wedding plans to Amy de Lannoy’s new dog, from Halle’s job to The Factoras’ Christmas plans…on and on it went, and of course, I talked about my new life in London and how much I love it—trying hard all the time not to gush too much! Everyone was delighted that Llew was able to join us even if for a little while. It was a lovely end to a lovely day!

Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Southport, CT

With only two days left to Christmas, I have finally surfaced to start to think about gift wrapping. I multi-tasked, retrieving boxes from our basement, measuring wrapping paper and decorating parcels with Christmas ornaments. I also put together a number of gift bags for Llew to take to his colleagues at BNP Paribas. After he left, I set about trying to mail out our annual Christmas greetings via email. I started off okay, but somewhere also the way I messed up and ended up losing connectivity to the Internet. This turned out to be my inadvertent installation of a Firewall which has stopped us accessing the internet and there went my project for the year. It seems as if a few of the folks on our mailing list did get the letter containing a round up of our family news, but most of the others will now have to wait until January 14 or 15 when I will be back home in London and am online again.

Since I have no internet connection at my parents’ place in Bandra, Bombay, Chriselle talked me out of carrying my laptop to India and I think her suggestion was very sound indeed. Not having my PC, will give me the chance to truly interact with my parents, spend quality time with them and my cousin Blossom and her kids and generally make for a more fruitful stay in India. I will, of course, continue to keep a travel journal as I always do, and I will resume blogging retrospectively,

Here in snow-ridden Southport, I still seem to be keeping London time for I am awaking at 5 am and by 8 pm, I fall comatose on the couch. Llew is keeping extraordinarily late hours at the bank and doesn’t get home until 10 pm. but he does have the day off tomorrow. And so I finally turned to the matter of a menu for our Christmas dinner. Hard to believe how long grocery shopping and running bank errands takes, but I was only able to get back home at 11. 30 am to start cooking. I have to say that everything feels a little odd including donning my apron and starting to cook. It’s not as if I have forgotten how to wield a laddle—it’s just that for almost three months now, I have barely cooked at all in London and though I realized that I love it and miss messin’ around a kitchen, it still felt a little strange to have to start chopping and peeling and re-discovering that the burners on my cooking range do not light spontaneously but need to be manually lit with a match!

I spent the afternoon making Chole, Stuffing Mushrooms with Bacon and Caramelized Onions and pouring a cheese sauce over the lot. I also made my mother’s Cucumber-Coconut Salad and the Koftas for the Kofta Biryani. By 5 pm, I was tired and went off for a short nap only to come down to the kitchen again to start preparations for the Rajpipla Chicken (Parsi-Style, another recipe from my mother’s vast repertoire of favorites) which I marinated in a ginger-garlic paste. Suddenly, conjuring culinary magic felt fabulous again and I was thrilled to have all the pots and pans and utensils I needed for a large meal of this kind.

When Llew got home, we watched the Jay Leno shows and Britcoms that he had TIVO-ed for me. He was also keen for me to view the Saturday Night Live installments that he had saved in which Sarah Palin had been so mercilessly parodied. We laughed till our sides ached. It was like old times again—two (old) Couch Potatoes who thoroughly enjoy dinner and the telly. Then, we were watching New Tricks, a British mystery series. Only I fell asleep on the sofa at the very climax, just as I used to do until four months ago! Put me in front of a TV after a good meal and I am out like a light!!!

Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Southport, CT

Llew had taken the day off so we luxuriated all morning, eating a big breakfast and lingering over coffee. He had a doctor’s appointment in the morning, which left me enough time to complete the chicken that had been marinating overnight in my fridge. After frying it till it was golden brown, I made the yogurt sauce flavored with tomato ketchup and Worcestershire sauce that drowns it in a yummy bath!

By the time Llew got back, the rain had started to fall—freezing rain and sleet and I wanted to stay cooped up at home, except that Llew persuaded me to get into the car with him and drive up to Clinton Crossings to the designer outlets so that I could get all my shopping for India done in one fell swoop. Llew had been up there himself with our Canadian friends at Thanksgiving and had informed me that the prices were unbeatable. He wanted to buy a few pairs of trousers, I need a few gifts for my loved ones in India and overall, it made sense to schlep up there and kill as many birds as we could with one stone. So much as I wanted to stay homebound, I complied with his suggestion and off we went.

Driving conditions were pretty awful and visibility was very poor indeed, but when we arrived at Clinton, it was fabulous. We went into stores like Geoffrey Beene and Van Heusen that appeared to be closing down completely. Merchandise was pretty much being given away and I found great clothing for my relatives in India, Llew found the trousers he wanted, I got a bunch of Argyle patterned socks and feeling exceedingly pleased with ourselves, we returned home in time for showers and to catch the 6 pm evening Mass at St. Thomas Aquinas Church, our parish in Fairfield.

At 5. 30 pm, the church was already half full—it is always a mystery to me how so many folks seem to crawl out of the woodwork only at Christmas and Easter! Where are all these people during the rest of the year? Fr. Martin was in great spirits—in keeping with the season. A few mornings ago, when I went to the Rectory to pick up some additional calendars for my brother Russel in Bombay, I had bumped into Fr. Martin and received a warm and very hearty welcome as well as a hug and a kiss! He was so pleased to see me again and wanted to know all about my life in London. That’s one of the nicest things about coming home to a small Connecticut town–everyone knows everybody else.

Mass was very interesting indeed. There was a Nativity Pageant put on by the kids—a lovely attempt at recreating that first Christmas except that Mary was taller and probably older than the slightly-built Joseph. Wonderful singing from our choir (though I was disappointed by the absence of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ from Handel’s Messiah) and the bringing out of the cake, fully lit with a gazillion candles that were blown out as all the kids in church sang ‘Happy Birthday to Jesus’, make the entire mass very special indeed.

Then, at the very end, when I was returning from Communion, I spotted our neighbor John Donovan sitting with his family, three pews behind ours, and waving enthusiastically to me. Of course, then, after Mass, I had a fabulous reunion with Trish, his wife and my walking partner, who tells me that she misses me sorely because she has no one to walk with anymore! She commiserated with me over Plantar Fascittis and informed me that she had it a few years ago, brought on by running. It took her two to three months, she said, to get rid of it, which is much less time than it seems to be taking me to lick it. From everything I have heard since arriving in the States, I must keep up with the exercises and not give up doing them even when it seems like I am healing. Trish suggested yoga (she is a huge yoga afficionado) and gave me all the news about our new neighbors next door, who moved in while I was in London. Gosh, it really seems as if I will have a lot of catching up to do by the time I arrive in Connecticut next year. “You’ll really like them, Rochelle”, said Trish about the Trottas, who have moved up north from Florida and are thrilled about all the snow and ice as they’ve never truly experienced a white winter, Trish tells me!

Meanwhile, my friend Rosemary Harding in Cincinnati (to whom I chatted on the phone) and Mary Jo Smith in Connecticut both told me to continue doing the exercises as stretching the plantar is the only way to make the condition disappear for good. Not having done the exercises for more than three weeks now, I feel awful, but have resovled to resume my exercise routine right away! I am amazed at how many people tell me that they have had plantar fascittis or know someone who had it. Mary, my dental hygienist, told me that her mother had it ten years ago!

Llew and I returned home to one of our traditional Christmas Eve dinners—Roasted Shrimp with Garlic and Tomatoes served with crusty bread and a green salad. This is what I most miss. Being at home with Llew, eating a home-cooked meal, sipping a glass of wine, having something terrific on the telly. By the way, I’ve discovered that Ina Garten, aka The Barefoot Contessa, has a new TV series on—it’s called Back to Basics and is accompanied by one of her fabulous books—which I hope I will find in my Christmas stocking! When I get back to London, I will start watching her show again as I am sure they will show the newest episodes based on the latest book.

Thursday, December 25, 2008
Southport, CT

Christmas Day dawned crisp and clean, the land covered by a blanket of glistening snow. I swear that for the first few moments when I opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was. The silence was complete and added to my sense of bewilderment. Was I in London? Was I in Bombay? Opening one of my eyes, very slowly, I spied the navy blue down comforter draped around me and I realized then that I was home in Southport, Connecticut. It was the strangest feeling in the world.

Because we had been to mass the previous evening, we had the morning to laze around and eat a big brunch. I always fix us a Seafood Brunch Strada on Christmas morning with shrimp and crabmeat, sautéed onions and three cheeses all bound together with an egg custard. It’s always scrumptious and since I bake it in a huge casserole, Llew will have plenty of leftovers!

Llew pottered around on our computer trying to disable the firewall and get internet connectivity again but he wasn’t able to succeed. I began assembling a salad that involved the use of pomegranate seeds and we all know how long it takes to get those little rubies out of those canvas shells! I decided that since we have so many bottles of champagne at home, I would fix Peach Bellinnis when Chriselle and Chris arrive later in the afternoon–a way of celebrating their engagement! Chriselle spent Christmas Eve with Chris’ folks in the Hamptons and attended mass with them this morning. The drive from Long Island to Connecticut should take them about two hours. We expect them by 1. 30 or 2 pm.

I pureed the peaches for the Bellinnis, juiced the pomegranate to make the syrup for the cocktails and assembled the rest of the ingredients for the salad—romaine lettuce, mandarin oranges, honey roasted peanuts, goat cheese in a parsley-flavored dressing—a variation on a recipe that was given to me years ago by my friend Liz Stiles. I also began to parboil basmati rice for the biryani and put the finishing touches on the table—we had English crackers at each place setting and all of these little touches made me feel so very festive. I love Christmas because it makes me feel like a kid again and this year is extra special because I am spending it with the loved ones whom I have crossed an ocean to see!

Chriselle and Chris arrived on cue at 2.00pm in Santa guise for they did enter hauling what looked like a huge sack of gifts! They were delighted with the Bellinis. Of course, we took a few pictures by the tree before we settled down to catch up with everything that has happened in their lives since I left in August—not the least of which is their engagement and wedding plans! I admired Chriselle’s diamond solitaire before we decided to begin our meal. Chris loves Indian food and couldn’t wait to tuck in. The Salad was a huge hit and was followed by the Chicken with Chole and Mushrooms served with Naans. When that was done, I brought out the Kofta Biryani and the Cucumber-Coconut Salad. We decided to take a break and have dessert only after we’d finished opening gifts.

Chriselle loved the outfits I got her from Oxford Street and quite happily modeled them for us as she opened each box. For Chris, at Chriselle’s suggestion, we got a zipped sweat shirt and an ornament from the Metropolitan Museum. I had brought Llew a DVD of the French and Saunders Still Alive Show that I had seen alone at Drury Lane Theater in London. When I had tried to buy a ticket for him when he was with me in London, every single one was sold out. I was delighted that he could at least enjoy it through DVD. I also got him the twin set of Cliff Richard’s 50th anniversary DVD with which he was delighted. He said he would download it on to his Ipod at once. Chris looked bewildered, never having heard of Cliff Richard and we had to inform him that Cliff Richard was only one of the most popular singers in the UK (and maybe the world!) and had been for 50 years!

As for me, I was perfectly pleased with my Ina Garten Back to Basics Book—it was exactly what I wanted and I couldn’t wait to browse through it, but, of course, I know that this pleasure will have to wait until I return to the States next year. Chriselle squealed when she opened a present from Chris to discover the DVD of Mamma Mia, a movie she hadn’t seen. Since Llew hadn’t seen it either, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon watching it and singing along, much to Chris’ amusement.

Half way through the movie (which I had seen twice inflight across the pond), I went into the kitchen to fix coffee and dessert. This was my piece de resistance—a Limited Edition vintage Christmas Pudding from Harrods which came with silver pennies to pop into each serving (so that everyone came out a lucky winner) and a jar of brandy butter. I sent Llew out into the garden to snip off a sprig of holly to decorate the top (our home is not called Holly Berry House for nothing!) and turned it over on a plate. Needless to say, the pudding had been steaming for two hours on the stove while we were at dinner and was still wonderfully warm. I poured a generous quantity of rum over it and then set it alight and we all watched with glee as the blue flame enveloped the pud in a warm light. I also set out Mince Pies (Chris thought they were filled with ground beef not realizing that mincemeat in the UK is candied dried fruit!) With cream and coffee, we enjoyed our lovely English treats that came in a ceramic pudding basin with Harrods emblazoned on the side of it—a true keeper and one in which I know I will make Christmas puddings in the years to come!

With the movie having come to an end and dessert consumed, the Christmas festivities came to a halt. It was a very different Christmas from the ones we usually have—we have combined with our close friends Ian and Jenny Sequeira and their kids to have a joint celebration for several years and last year, there were fifteen adults at Christmas at our place! This year was just the opposite—it was quiet and relaxed–with just the four of us. We had loads of fun, we did pull crackers, I did insist that we wear our hats throughout the meal, we did keep the champagne flowing and we did watch a movie and enjoy a great meal together.

But for me, most of all, this Christmas was one in which I had an epiphany of sorts. It was one, perhaps because I have been so far away from my loved ones, in which I learned the true meaning of the season. Christmas, I now realize, is all about compassion for those who have so much less than we do and it is about giving till it hurts. In faraway Belfast, I was taught the lesson that my Dad has been trying to teach me for years—that there is greater joy in giving than in receiving. I learned this lesson from a lone accordionist in Belfast who blew on his blue fingers as he stood on the sidewalk all day trying to earn a few pennies to keep his four children fed. I could not get the image of this Eastern European immigre out of my mind—far from the impoverished fields of Rumania which he has abandoned to seek a better life in Ireland for himself and his family, this man taught me how fabulous it can feel to fill a face with sudden and unexpected joy. Fernando’s face lit up like a candle when I placed a note in his hand. It was the largest pound note I had in my wallet at that time. I left Belfast holding close to my heart that extraordinarily warming feeling of having brought some joy to a few very poor people at this special time of year when so many folks are reeling from job losses. Tears filled my eyes as I walked away from Fernando–but they were not tears of sorrow at all. They were tears of the purest joy at how much happiness I had brought him by one small spontaneous gesture. Throughout Christmas Day, I kept thinking of those four poor Rumanian kids who, I hoped, would have a slightly better Christmas, because I had been moved by the sight of their hardworking father who stood on the street in the sleet and freezing rain of an Irish winter’s day in order to make a few pennies by playing his accordion.

For these gifts—the gifts of being with my nearest and dearest this holiday, for the peace that passeth understanding and for the happiness that came from my giving a small portion of my excess of possessions—I am truly grateful this Christmas.

Home for the Holidays! Back in Southport, Connecticut

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Monday, December 22, 2008
Southport, Connecticut

Remind me never again to try lugging a 50 pound bag along High Holborn while also hauling a backpack with my laptop and accessories! It was a Herculean task but that bit was the worst part of my journey across the Pond home to Southport, Connecticut. In fact, a treat awaited me at Heathrow where Grey Goose Vodka and Hotel Chocolat had set up a tasting bar within the duty free area! With almost three hours to kill before I boarded the flight, I downed a couple of Cosmos and a Pear Vodka on ice–all courtesy of the company and a very lovely bar tender. Except that none of these shots sent me off to sleep as I had hoped.

It was a very comfortable–if unusually long–flight, but I kept myself more than entertained watching Mamma Mia (not once, but twice because I enjoyed it so much) and The Women as well as a slew of TV programs. It was a little difficult, I have to admit, to break out of my self-imposed Bubble for I have enjoyed ignoring the media for the past four months and insulating myself from the goings-on in the larger world, being content with the little world of my own making at High Holborn.

Awful weather conditions in New England delayed my arrival for an hour, but I was grateful to have been airborne and not confined to a hotel at Heathrow (as were the passengers of the flight that was scheduled a few hours before mine).

I arrived at Kennedy airport in New York to a typical North Atlantic winter–snow was waist high from a recent blizzard and driving conditions had my heart in my mouth throughout the journey from Queens in New York to Southport, Connecticut. It was 3 am when Llew pulled into our driveway–surprisingly, nervous energy had kept me awake throughout the flight and all along the long car ride home.

The next morning saw me unpack and run out to the hairdressers. Deborah, my fabulous stylist and fellow Anglophile, gave me a great cut while she caught up on all my London news. Then, Llew and I did a bit of shopping (I found a fabulous new down coat at GAP in Westport for a fraction of its regular price–I swear they are practically giving things away here in the US!) Then, we had a short nap before waking up to take showers and get ready for another long drive, this time to Somerset, New Jersey, to attend the annual Goan Association Dinner-Dance!

We met Chriselle briefly en route and indulged in quick hugs before we were on the road again. It is frightfully cold out here and I feel like an ice-cube even in our heated home. In Holborn, my flat is so well insulated that I did not have the heating on at all–at least not so far!

The Goan Dance was a lot of rollicking fun as it is every year. We met a bunch of our closest friends and danced to the music of The Naked Flame. The dinner was catered by Akbar Indian Restaurant–nothing to shout about! Everyone said that London seemed to suit me fine and they wanted to know all about my new life in the UK. I tried not to make them feel too envious!

It was 3 am again by the time we reached home. Though our friend Mariette had invited us to spend the night at their place in Short Hills, New Jersey, we declined as the weather reports forecast more sleet and freezing rain at dawn. We were eager to get back home with the least fearsome driving conditions and we were glad we did. This time round, I was fast asleep in the car long before we arrived at Holly Berry House. Those Black Russians Llew fixed me seemed to have something to do with it!!!

Llew and I spent Sunday over a leisurely breakfast at home. I wrapped a bunch of gifts that I have bought from London for my friends and for Llew and Chriselle while Llew hauled our Christmas tree up from the basement and decided to set up the lights. Only we could not find our lights! Llew was certain we had discarded them last year and so set off to buy new ones while I pottered around getting the feel of our home again after such a long time away. I notice that there is a bit of disarray in our family room where the skylights are leaking and have to be replaced. Our contractor Kurt has begun work on the replacement and will soon have it all done.

When Llew returned, we got down to the serious business of decorating our home and then, of course, at the bottom of one of our boxes, we found our missing lights! It will be a quiet Christmas for us this year–just Chriselle and Chris will be with us. It will be a very relaxed family affair, for a change, an opportunity that we all need to catch up and spend quality time together. Llew and I will cook up a storm, of course. He has taken a day off on Christmas Eve to allow us to plan our menu and get cracking with the feast.

Together we had carols blasting on the stereo as we decorated our tree, deciding to curtail the ornaments to merely a few of our vintage baubles. This will make it much easier on Llew who will have to dismantle everything alone once I leave for India on December 26. I did decorate the dining table, and have hung up our stockings, but that was the sum total of the decorations we’re putting up this year! It will still feel Christmassy with a fire going in the family room–only much less fussy than it usually is!

This morning, I have a dental appointment with my hygienist Mary. It is funny how I have come home to set up appointments with all the professionals upon whom I rely year-round–hairdresser, dental hygienist, etc. I shall spend the rest of the day emailing our annual Holiday Family Newsletter and packing for Bombay while menu planning etc. Llew and I have been watching Charlie Rose on TIVO and I realize that Charlie Rose is another thing I miss in London. It doesn’t take too long to slip into the complex tenor of my Connecticut life and I am doing just that the moment!

Apart from traveling to my parents’ home in Bombay, India, I have never really ‘come Home for Christmas’ and I have to admit, it feels great to do so!

A Christmas ‘Panto’ in Richmond and Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland

Dec18

Thursday, December 18, 2008
London

My guests arrived when I was beginning to despair–close to noon. I had expected them at least an hour earlier, but used the time to finalize my own packing as well as seeing to the last-minute items on my To-Do List.

With little time to spare after we said our first Hellos, I ushered Jenny-Lou and her daughter Kristen to the underground station for our long ride to Hammersmith from where we changed lines to get to Richmond. I was afraid it would take us much longer to get there and was relieved when we arrived at Richmond with a good 45 minutes to spare. This left us time to pick up sandwiches from Tesco which we ate while overlooking Richmond’s spacious Green, right behind the bustle of the shopping area which is called The Quadrant. Then, ten minutes later, we were inside the theater, picking up tickets that were held for me at the Box Office.

No one was more surprised than I to find the theater packed to the rafters with the tiniest little school kids out on a field trip with their long-suffering teachers. Every seat was occupied and the little ones were squirming in their seats with excitement. Peter Pan was the perfect play for this age group–most under seven years of age. I had such a blast sitting in the midst of these lovely innocent angels and watching their reactions. From everything I had read about this typically British tradition of the pantomime, it is a highly interactive form of drama in which the audience participates fully, warning the hero and heroine about the approach of the ‘baddies’ who hide behind the rocks or shows their appreciation not just by clapping their hands but by stamping their feet as well and shouting till they’re hoarse. Bonnie Langford’s Peter Pan was wonderfully lively and her flying through the stage, though now technologically old-hat was still marvelous enough for the little kids to stare open-mouthed in amazement. As for Captain Hook, played by the one and only Simon Callow, he was superb and seemed to be having the most fun. I was delighted to find an old song I had learnt when I was myself in primary school, “We’re following the Leader” as well as, most unexpectedly, Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock” both featured in the show –the latter with slightly different lyrics!!! Overall, I had a superbly entertaining time at the theater and was glad that my very first British ‘panto’ was a resounding success. Jenny and Kristen loved it too and were as charmed as I was by the vigour with which the audience got involved.

Back on the Tube, we got off at Hyde Park Corner, which made it very convenient for us to visit the Winter Wonderland about which everyone has been raving. Each time I have passed by Hyde Park in the past few weeks, I have been attracted to the giant ferris wheel and the lights in the trees and the general mood of merriment that surrounds the park. Entry to the park was free, but as soon as we reached the first stall, we knew we were in for a rare treat. The Wonderland turned out to be a German Christmas Fair complete with food stalls, shops selling distinctively German Christmas handicrafts and a variety of awesome rides that were most unusual and extraordinarily tasteful. Jenny and Kristen went on the Big Scream Roller coaster and Kristen walked through the Maze of Mirrors. We picked up steaming hot Gluhwein (hot mulled wine) and hot chocolate for Kristen,and walked with our glasses as they warmed our hands effectively. Not that they needed much warming. After weeks of awful weather, it was unseasonably mild tonight which made our stroll in the park very pleasurable indeed. For dinner, we chose to eat a variety of items–all German, all carb-heavy. Kristen opted for bratwurst in a long toasted roll, Jenny was attracted to a plate of hot boiled potatoes seasoned with bacon and I chose a big bowl of sauteed mushrooms served with a garlic sauce. For dessert. we picked up a paper cone filled with crisp honey roasted cashew nuts and almonds–so yummy! We walked right to the very end of the fair to take in the bungie jumpers and the huge ferris wheel that was beautifully lit up and filled the entire area with a festive spirit.

When we’d reached the banks of the Serpentine, we turned around and talked towards the exit, then hopped into a bus that took us to Marble Arch from where we caught another bus that went along the lengths of Oxford and Regent Streets. This gave us all a chance to marvel at the holiday lights which everyone says are more spectacular than usual this year. Shoppers still crowded the streets and the stores and since everything is handsomely discounted, hopefully Christmas this year will not be as doleful as the economists predict.

When the bus arrived at Aldwych, we jumped off and walked the short distance along Waterloo Bridge to get to the South Bank where I had heard that a Continental Market was on. However, by the time we arrived there, it was winding down and the stall owners were calling it a day. It was time for us to think about getting home. My guests had arrived from the New Jersey and were starting to feel the difference in time zones get to them.

Back in my flat, Jenny and I sat down to chat for a bit over cups of tea before I made up the sofa bed for them in the living room and we decided to call it a night. It had been a memorable day and I was pleased that I had their company as I covered two more Must-Do items on my holiday list–a London pantomime and the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park.

Now I must turn my own thoughts homewards and start to think of all the things I need to do to get well and truly ready for Christmas in Connecticut.

Looking Back Over Four Months in London

Dec17

Wednesday, December 17, 2008
London

I fell in love with London a long time ago–22 years ago to be precise–and I have never felt any differently. If anything, the past four months have deepened my attachment to this city. It is a funny feeling–to be a Londoner and a visitor at the same time. Despite the fact that I have worked here, the last four month have felt like an endless vacation.

Yet, so much water has flowed under the Thames since Llew and I hauled our eight suitcases out of the cab that balmy summer’s night in August. Even though I have scoured the furthest reaches of this city so thoroughly that I ended up with an inflammation of my plantar fasciia, I still feel as if I have only scratched the surface. Every night before I fall asleep, I think with wonder about all the things I will do the next day. As Robert Frost wrote, I literally feel as if I have miles to go before I sleep!!!

So what have I accomplished in nearly four months? Well, I have taken about 6 self-guided walking tours that introduced me to corners tucked far away from prying eyes and quarters whose cobbled streets are hoary with history. Clubs and pubs, churches and cathedrals, sprawling parks and secret gardens, museums and art galleries, colleges and libraries…I have been there, done that, and felt fiercely fulfilled. I started a systematic study of the collections in the National Gallery and, before my feet gave way, completed my perusal of the Sainsbury Wing. In the British Museum, which I visited often, I saw the remnant highlights of so many ancient cultures. I also ‘did’ the Tate London, the Geffrye Museum and the National Portrait Gallery and will keep the Tate Modern and the Victoria and Albert Museum for next semester.

Professionals entertained and delighted me everywhere I went through theater and opera. In the Globe Theater, I marvelled at the Shakespearean magic of the verse and the virtuosity of the players. I saw celebrity actors whose names have shone often in lights–Dame Aileen Atkins and Ian McDiarmid, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders and Vanessa Redgrave. Not just were these thespians quite splendid on stage but the venues in which they performed were equally astonishing–from the Vaudeville Theater at the Strand to the historic Drury Lane Theater, each interior was a masterpiece of design and decoration hinting at the fact that, over the centuries, a visit to the theater was a glitzy occasion indeed.

As for cuisine, what a long way London has come. I have tasted Vietnamese pho and Turkish mezes, sampled the variety to be found on a thali and in the sleight of hand of Italian chefs who have a magical way with pasta. The foodie in me was deeply satisfied by the culinary offerings of every curve of the globe. I had thought that being alone in the city, I would probably never eat out at all. How pleasantly surprized I was to receive invitiations from new friends and generous neighbors who took me out to meals that were superlative as well as entertained me in their own domains with their own home-cooked signature dishes–not to mention the friendship provided by my colleague Karen and her husband Douglas, foodies both with a connoissuer’s palate to boot. I have eaten candy from a bygone era with names like honeycomb and eclairs and rum bonbons; as for my inner chocoholic, why, it was more than pleased by truffles flavored with honey and strawberries, lavender and coffee in Hope and Greenwood’s old fashioned shop as much as it was tantalized by the offerings of the more pricey French and Belgain chocolatiers.

Talking about cuisine, marketing has become for me the high point of my week. Never having shopped at street markets previously, I have become addicted to the one on Leather Lane where I buy my stock of Greek dolmas and mozzarella cheese, sun dried tomatoes and pesto. In the Food Halls at Harrods and Fortnum and Mason, I have been seduced by the novelty of steamed puddings with peculiar names: sticky toffee and spotted dick; by jams such as rhubarb and ginger and three fruit marmalade; fruity flapjack biscuits and ginger and orange cookies laced with chocolate have enticed me incessantly and become my ‘tea’ accompaniments; even the crisps have exotic flavorings such as Thai red chilli and roast beef with mustard, barbecued chicken and garlic with lemon grass; I have tasted elderflower wine and lavender honey, little tubs of potted shrimps and smoked salmon pate, artisinal cheeses from every farm in the country and Stiltons studded with apricot and ginger, dried dates and candied oranges. For breakfast, I have eaten sausages with strange names like chipolata and Cumberland and I can never decide which ones are tastier. And then Yuletide brought its own share of irresistible treats: mulled wine and mince pies, I discovered, are every bit as scrumptious as they sound. And when I have felt homesick for a curry, why, the likes of Marks and Spencer, Sainsbury and Tesco have been only to happy to oblige my native tastes with their offerings of Lamb Rogan Josh and Prawn Vindaloo, and Chicken every which way you can imagine–Makhanwalla, Jalfrezi, Korma and Tikka Masala! I am ashamed to say that I have almost stopped cooking, so eager have I been to sample local delicacies…and I have rarely been disappointed.

It is hard for me to believe that only a few miles within Greater London lie quaint villages that border the placid Thames, each characterized by snooty estates and picturesque ponds with trailing willows and hungry mallards. At Old Isleworth, I visited magnificent Syon House and Park. I gazed upon gold-fringed trees at Richmond Hill and enjoyed the view that Mick Jagger gazes on daily from his own bedroom window; while at Richmond Park I looked upon huge herds of deer roaming freely in the watery autumn sunshine. At Barnes, I crossed the sprawling haunted ‘Commons’ that gave me the creeps.

The second best part of being in London was discovering the bus system and the wallet-friendly Monthly Pass that took me to parts of the city that I never knew existed. I had always love the Tube but I have now developed an affection for those lumbering red double deckers as well. I went to Ealing and Greenford, Harrow and Acton, Shoreditch and Stratford and even to Essex in the course of my research–parts of the city that were distant yet cost me mere pennies per mile covered.

The best part of being in London, however, has been the new friends I have made who reached out their hands so warmly in friendship. For a country whose people (at least in the States) have a reputation for reserve that has been politely referred to as European sang-froid, I have found the English deeply welcoming and genuinely eager to share their homes and their hearts with me. My next-door neighbors, Tim and Barbara have been an incredible blessing as has Milan who lives down the hall. Janie Yang who introduced me to her artsy friends has always been there for me. Cynthia and Bishop Michael Colclough showed concern when I was laid up at home and then provided me with a stack of tickets to so many marvelous cultural evenings at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Chriselle’s colleague Ivana has been a fun conpanion on walks in Chelsea and Battersea. I find it impossible to believe that four months ago I did not know any of these folks at all. As for living alone in the city (a prospect that offered its own load of concerns), I need never have worried. Between my concierge Arben and our janitor Martha, I am waited on hand and foot and I feel throughly pampered by their care and attention.

Like Bill Bryson and Susan Allen Toth and other travel writers who fell under the spell of the city, I too am quite besotted by London and I can’t wait to resume my rambles come the new year.