An Unsolved Mystery

Late 90s.

I had just returned from a work week in Florida. Dropping my suitcase on the floor of the tiny living/dining space of my one-bed townhouse, I changed into my pyjamas, made a little dinner and ate it. Then I pottered around, trying to wind down, unmindful of the suitcase lying open on the floor. ‘I’ll unpack in the morning,’ I thought. 

I lived in Atlanta, Vinings to be precise, in a picturesque little apartment complex called the Lakes. True to its name, there were three “lakes” within the complex. As you entered the gated community, there were rows of townhouses to the left. Pretty little trellised townhouses. I lived in the third one in one of the rows. A parking lot was to the right of the row, and a paved path led to all the houses in my row. There was a pond right across from the paved path in front of my door, a grassy patch separated the pond from the parking lot. 

While I sat there trying to decide if I wanted to go to bed or the pub, there was a knock at the door. It was 9:30 pm, an hour had passed since I’d come home. I was surprised. The blinds were shut and I couldn’t see who was standing at the door. 

‘Who is it?’ I asked.

‘Police, ma’am,’ was the astounding reply. ‘We’d like to ask you some questions.’

I was more than shocked. The police? What did they want with me?

I opened the door to a tall gentleman, dressed in a sharp suit, next to a blonde woman in a ponytail and equally sharp suit. (Yes, they dress up like that in real life too!). They held up their badges and introduced themselves as detectives. ‘Detectives. Wonder which branch?’ i thought, but didn’t ask. 

‘Please, come in,’ I invited, more than mindful of the suitcase sitting open on the floor. Then I thought, ‘what the heck? it’s my apartment, I’ll be a slob if I want to.’

‘We’d like to ask you about your neighbours,’ he started.

‘Which one?’ I asked. I had neighbours to the right and left of me. The one on the left was prone to playing loud rap music in the early hours of the morning, and I had reported him to the management already. 

‘The one on the left,’ was the surprising answer. ‘Have you noticed anything in particular about him lately?’

The neighbours he spoke of were a couple in their late twenties, maybe early thirties. When they first came, he was in a wheel chair with a broken foot. Later he progressed to crutches. They seemed like a nice couple. 

‘No,’ I replied. ‘I don’t know them very well. Enough to say hello, that’s about all.’ I shrugged.

‘Can you describe them?’ he asked me

‘Sure,’ I rattled off a detailed description of the couple. 

‘So they are together,’ his partner remarked. ‘When was the last time you saw them?’

Now, I traveled every week for work. So I would only see them, if at all, on weekends or holidays. The question made me think. Strangely, I couldn’t remember seeing them in the last four/five weeks. I told the detectives as much. The couple used to be quite loud in their intimate moments - if you know what I mean. You could hear them through the paper-thin walls of the apartment. 

But one night stood out to me. I could hear them having a row. They were angry and loud The next morning, torn pieces of paper littered the green patch near the pond in front of our houses. I picked up one of the pieces, and saw that it was from a page in a passport!

I realized I hadn’t seen them since. I recounted this to the detectives.

‘Damn!’ exclaimed Mr. Detective. ‘They must be far away by now.’

‘Did you ever see a silver Mercedes in the parking lot?’ was the next question. 

I told them that there were lots of expensive cars in the neighbourhood. I didn’t recall a specific Mercedes. 

Thanking me, they left. I stood at the door, watching them walk away, when suddenly, they came back.

‘Did they drive a car? Do you know what kind it was?’

‘Yes, of course, they had a car,’ I told them. Gave them the specific make, model, color and year. It was actually a very unusual colour. 

They looked relieved and thanked me. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’

I sat down after this strange encounter, and wondered. So many things. I’d reached home at 8:30 - they must have been watching the apartments, because they showed up exactly an hour later. Detectives - which meant a fairly serious issue - kidnapping, drugs, homicide? They never did tell me which division. What had the couple done that had the police after them? Why were they on the run? (this much was now clear). Did the police ever find them? I never did find out. 

The saga doesn’t end there. 

Some weeks later, the apartment was rented out to a couple of young boys. A week after they moved in, I returned home one night at about 2 am. I didn’t notice anything amiss. But the next morning, the security from the complex were knocking at my door. They asked me if I had noticed or heard anything the previous night. 

‘No, I didn’t’ I told them. 

Turns out, the apartment had been broken into. Nothing had ben stolen, but the door was broken and things had been scattered around. 

Curiouser and curiouser. I wondered if it had anything to do with the couple who’d rented it previously? After all, the townhouse next to it was empty, and at the time the break-in occurred, I was either sleeping or out. Neither had been broken into. Just that same one. 

I’ll never know. 

Manassas Battlefield

On hearing Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.

It reminded me of the time, back in 2000, when I decided to drive down from where I lived near DC To Manassas. A small township. The rains had started overnight, and low clouds hung over the land, a constant drizzle drumming on the roof of my car. The wipers were turned on full blast as I made my way down Highway 1. Yes, there is a Highway 1 on the East Coast - not the famous Pacific Coast Highway in California. I was still using Rand McNally’s road maps in those days - didn’t have or want a GPS in the car. 

The Manassas battlefield is one of the lesser known battlefields of the American Civil War. I parked the car in an empty parking lot and walked onto the field. The Blue Ridge Mountains were invisible in the haze. Green undulating fields surrounded me, corpses of dark green trees breaking the rolling monotony. A low stone wall ran alongside the path. Split log fences marked some boundaries. I walked further afield - alone in a grey world, dripping droplets clinging to my jacket hood. The further I got the quieter it got. An occasional swoosh from car tires on the road behind was the only indication of humanity around. A single canon chained off in a small square stood silent - as if it wondered where all the fire had gone. I perched on the stone wall, my feet dangling off the ground over the dip on the other side. 

Sitting, I let my senses roam freely. There was only the sound of the rain pattering on the grass and stones. The green smell of wet grass. Cold wet stone pressed into my palms. I looked over at a small wood about three hundred feet from where I was. It was dark beneath the trees. Thick ground foliage made it impossible to see further than a few feet in. 

I could almost hear the sound of thundering canons. 

Of rifle fire. 

Of cries for mercy. 

Of shouts to rally.

Of frenetic activity as soldiers ran around, engaged in the business of death. 

Did each one of them believe in the cause he served? Many would never see their families again. Many would see the last light of life in another’s eyes - be it friend or foe. There would be no time to mourn or stop. The only instinct would be to survive. Survive at any cost. Would the rain have hindered the firepower ? Guns jammed? Powder wet? Looking up to see a bayonet coming towards your chest? What would that moment have been like? 

The rain still fell as I sat there lost in thought. Finally I stirred myself. I wandered some more, reading the plaques set in memory. Finally I returned to my car. Three hours had passed - and I had not seen another soul. Only the ghosts of memories past. 

My stomach rumbled. I needed sustenance. I needed to go home. 

Oktoberfest and a creepy hotel

My friend, Rupali and I decided to spend Thanksgiving weekend at the Kitchener Oktoberfest. Kitchener is about an hour's drive away from my home at Mississauga. The idea was for us to drive out there on Sunday afternoon and then watch the parade on Monday before heading out.

The drive there was beautiful, the Niagara escarpment was hot with the colors of fall - reds, golds, rusts, and yellows. I didn't push the drive - keeping to the speed limit while Rupali clicked away madly. Hopefully she got some good shots.

Kitchener turned out to be a small town with lots of tall buildings, and nestling between them old, old buildings with red brick exteriors catching the late afternoon sun. Parts of the roads had been closed off, as street food vendors occupied them offering all kinds of German (?) goodies - overwhelming us with the smell of grilling bratwurst and hot cotton candy, throw in some pretzels and sauerkraut and there you have it.

We were booked at the Walper Hotel – a heritage hotel with a long list of celebrity guests. Since check in was not until 2 pm we figured we might as well get lunch first. Crabby Joe's caught our eye. A bar/restaurant that served up a medley of a menu - Asian, German, you name it! It was good, though! Lunch over, we headed back to the hotel. The hotel was across the street, on the street corner, and one of the beautiful red brick buildings that we had seen earlier.

Checked in and feeling rather hot, we decided to go to our room and catch some shut-eye. The hotel was old, very old, and undergoing renovations. The elevator was ornate and creaked up the three floors. We stepped off the elevator into a hallway obviously undergoing renovation. White washed walls contrasted with heavy, dark wooden doors. Dark, wooden, ornate and obviously old furniture decorated the hallways. A huge empty frame on one wall indicated where a painting would have been. Large chandeliers above our heads lighted the empty corridors. We found our room and used the heavy brass keys to enter. The door did not creak, thankfully. Two double beds occupied one side, and on the other were a table and a TV. I took the bed towards the window, which was shaded with dark brown blinds. A ledge ran along the base of the wall, and terminated in an air-conditioning unit behind the TV.

We decided to crash for a bit. I played around with my iPad taking a picture of Rupali as she snored away. I also decided to check on the history of the Walper Hotel. Wikipedia offered the information that this hotel is reputedly haunted in the basement by a man in a coat. Hmmmm… it also named all the famous people who had stayed there, including Queen Elizabeth, Madonna and Lady Gaga. Go figure!

In the evening we decided to go for a walk. It’s a peaceful town, but kind of deserted. We decided to head to the Rum Runner’s pub for dinner. The Rum Runner’s pub also has a bit of colorful history. It’s located in the basement. During the prohibition, the walls of the pub were used to store casks containing – you guessed it – rum. The hotel was part of a long underground supplying alcohol to the United States. Today, it’s a beautiful pub decorated much like any other pub. One of the walls is covered with newsprints from the prohibition days as well as the picture of a man who possibly participated in the nefarious rum running activity.

Rupali and I ordered cocktails. The bar was nearly empty, with a few other tables occupied. The bartender and server had time to chat with us, and chat we did. I was sitting with my back towards the wall, facing the bar. Rupali sat facing me. All of a sudden, I felt someone looking at me from where the entrance was. I looked over but I could not see anyone there. The room to the right of me was empty just like the corridor. I was getting goose pimples and rubbed my arm. Rupali asked me what the matter was. I told her what I had been feeling. She was surprised at my answer. There really was no-one at the door. We finished an otherwise uneventful dinner and decided to head back upstairs. We wanted to be up early to watch the parade.

I need time to fall asleep – my unwinding time, I call it. I need to read a book or watch TV till I am asleep. My ipad had my downloaded reading material, so I continued to read for a while, while Rupali slept. At some point I glanced at the time. It was getting late, but I was not in the least bit sleepy. Figuring that I should probably try to fall asleep, I shut down my iPad, turned off the lights, and closed my eyes, but sleep was far away. I tossed, turned, got up, closed the blinds, and tried to sleep again. The digital readout of the clock told me that time was passing oh! So slowly. I could hear dogs barking in the distance. Sometimes, I heard the faint sounds of revelers as they returned from their revelry. At one point I heard a loud thump in the room next to mine. Weird! Sometime around three in the morning I fell asleep. I had the strangest dream. Something bad. Very bad, and very weird. I woke up to the vibration of my cell’s alarm.

Rupali was already up. I was feeling groggy with so little sleep. I told her I hadn’t been able to sleep until about 3 am. She looked at me strangely and said, “well, I was having these horrible nightmares and woke up around 3. Then I fell asleep again, and I had more nightmares till I woke up. I don’t normally have nightmares. I was surprised”. I told her I’d been seeing strange dreams, too.

The two of us couldn’t believe that we’d both had marginally weird experiences.

It was time to get ready and watch the Oktoberfest parade. We showered, changed and went to the coffee shop below. Crowds had gathered on the pavements with chairs, and blankets – it was a little chilly – and coffee. There was a long line at the coffee shop. I told Rupali to get the coffee while I marshaled the seat by the window. But it wasn’t enough for us. We had to go out and see the parade for ourselves. For two hours, we were treated to some very good, some funny, some good and some strange Oktoberfest floats, and marching bands, including a Chinese troupe and a Filipino band (viva la Oktoberfest! Who doesn’t love beer?) And of course, there were the usual Molson floats, and cowboys and big balloons and … more marching bands.

With the parade over, we headed back to the hotel. In our room, we picked up our bags and were headed out. I saw a hotel employee come out of the room next door. Evidently, she had been in there. I wondered if anyone had been staying there the previous night. It didn’t look like it! What WAS that bump? With all those questions, we headed down, checked out and finally got on our way back home to Mississauga. 

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Kitchener, Ontario

Sir Paul McCartney – You disappointed me…

Now that that got everyone’s attention ----

That’s a lie.

Well just for a little bit – it was true. Yesterday (8th August, 2010) Rupali and I finally went to see the Paul McCartney Up and Coming Tour of 2010. The concert was at the Air Canada Center and was supposed to start at 7:30 pm. There were no opening acts announced. Knowing that the set would be about two-and-a-half hours long, it was only to be expected that we thought there would be an opening set. But there wasn’t. We were quite excited as we went into the Air Canada center and took our seats. The seats were filling up quickly. 7:30 came and went.. the crows waited patiently. Then 8:00 came and went. The crowed decided to amuse themselves. Mexican waves went round and round. Finally around 8:15 the two large screens to the side of the stage lit up. Music and video. Oh yay!! just what we needed. NOT!! Finally, at 8:30 pm, a full hour after the show was supposed to start THE MAN walked out onto the stage. And the crowd lost it!!

He is not very tall. Wears little heels. Slim. Still mop-topped. Still boyish looking. Dressed in a Sgt Pepper’s style jacket and black pants. And can still scream with the best of them. The set began with ‘Venus and Mars/Rockshow’. And then it went on – three hours of pure bliss.

He mixed them up. And sang almost every Beatles song that I like – except ‘Come Together’. Now that would have been the ultimate for me. That was one song that I listened to on a 45 rpm track over and over and over again, until it almost wore out the vinyl. The jacket came off by the time ‘The Long and Winding Road’ came around.

I was taking pictures and videos as much as I could. All my batteries had been charged before I left including a spare set. But strangely half an hour into the set, and both sets of batteries died. Not only that – my cell phone died too!! WEIRD is not the word. So I was only able to get a few snaps/videos. Watch it on youtube.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaQFy3ryiag

So what did he sing?

Remember, this is a man who has been rocking for 50 years almost.. YEP!! The Beatles came together in 1960 – remember? And he has this humungous catalogue over this long period of time. And his fans are now in their THIRD generation!! So everything he sang resonated with the crowd.

At one point, with just one spotlight on him, an acoustic guitar in hand – he sang ‘And I love her’. I cried. This song to me has always had a very strong memory attached to it. Years ago, sitting on a rooftop in Kolkata, with my cousins Shubro  and MoonMoon and my sister during load-shedding – or rolling black out. Shubro was strumming his guitar and singing ‘And I love her’. At the words - ‘bright are the stars that shine/dark is the sky’ - we all looked up at the sky. It was a new moon night. And the stars shone brightly with no moonlight to dim them. We’d never have seen them had there been no load-shedding. And now here in front of me, was Paul McCartney – singing that sweet melody, those incredible simple, heart-felt lyrics. And I cried. One more memory created.

Oh yeah. 

So here’s the set list he played.

1. Venus and Mars / Rockshow
2. Jet
3. All My Loving
4. Letting Go
5. Drive My Car
6. Highway
7. Let Me Roll It
8. The Long And Winding Road
9. Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five
10. Let ‘Em In
11. My Love
12. I’ve Just Seen A Face
13. And I Love Her
14. Blackbird
15. Here Today
16. Dance Tonight
17. Mrs Vandebilt
18. Eleanor Rigby
19. Something
20. Sing The Changes
21. Band On The Run
22. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
23. Back In The USSR
24. I’ve Got A Feeling
25. Paperback Writer
26. A Day In The Life / Give Peace A Chance
27. Let It Be
28. Live And Let Die
29. Hey Jude

Encore
30. Day Tripper
31. Lady Madonna
32. Get Back

Second Encore
33. Yesterday
34. Mull Of Kintyre (with the Peel Regional Police Piper Band)
35. Helter Skelter
36. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band / The End 

Yes, there really were two encores. But there were those moments that made my day.

Like the time the lights were focused on our section only. I looked around and no one had their hands raised. So I raised my hands and waved. Next thing I know – he waves back!! I like to think he was waving at me.. ** tee hee!!**

And Rupali was in tears with ‘Hey Jude’.

And the pyrotechnics with ‘Live and Let Die’ were amazing. But funnier was Paul’s drama-baazi after the fireworks were done!

His tributes to Linda (‘My love’), John (‘Here Today’ – solo with acoustic guitar only) and George (‘Something’). So he switches to a ukulele and starts talking about how he and George liked to play the ukulele. And evidently, he told George that he’d learnt one of George’s songs on it, and he starts strumming the ukulele and then its ‘Something’ with a Hawaiian flair and then he switches to a bass guitar and completes the song with full band backup.

And the sing along to ‘Ob-la-dih’. Evidently this is the first time they played it on tour.

And ‘Hey Jude’? Well they brought the piano out – the multi colored almost psychedelic painted one. And of course, he made the crowd sing along to ‘na na na – na-na-na na – na-na-na na –Hey Jude’. That scream is still as good as it was forty something years ago.

And ‘Let it Be’ – what can I say… !!

And of course, ‘Yesterday’ – alone on stage. Guitar in hand and that incredible strumming…Brings tears to the eyes.

Followed by ‘Mull of Kintyre’  with a full Scottish band (it was the Peel Marching Band). He acknowledged that many of his relatives had actually moved to Canada from Scotland. Thank God he didn’t … Where would the Beatles be then?

And ‘Helter Skelter’ talk about a classic. It sounded better than most rock songs of today and completely modern.

The sheer genius of the man, his incredible energy, his presence, charisma.. call it what you like. For three hours, he kept us entertained and enchanted. Even from a distance you can’t take your eyes off him. He talked, laughed and joked with the audience. No gimmicks. No fancy dress changes and no backup dancers. Just brilliant music and an excellent time.

Was I disappointed??!! Heck No!! Well, just a little bit. Wish he’d sung ‘Come together’.

Paul used to be my favourite. He still is. He will always be.

And I Love him.

Concert at the Skydome

So why am I writing about a concert in my travelogue blog? Well, its not a 'food-for-thought' kind of thing in the first place. And this one qualifies as travelogue. I went to the Rogers Center for a concert for the first time (I'd been there before, just not for concerts). I was transported to a world that I wanted to be in for all of five hours. Transport .. travel... see? And finally, the Rogers Center is one of the gotta-see-it tourist spots in Toronto. So it qualifies. Besides, its my blog, and I decide what qualifies or not ... ;-p !!


The Rogers Center or the Skydome as it was initially known used to be a part of the Toronto Skyline. Multiple high rises along the waterfront have changed that skyline now, so its visible only as chunks between the buildings, and completely hidden from sight from the East.. So no more will we see the graceful lines of the CN tower supplemented by the curves of the Skydome. Needless to say, to rename it to the Roger's Center even makes the romance go out of one of the most innovative stadium designs in the world. Enough said. Let's get on with the concert.


So Rupali and I had tickets to the Eagles concert today. May I mention that this is my first concert in a long while? and the first in an arena, so .. it was a new experience.  Rupali got them last minutes - so of course, our tickets were way up in the rafters.Nothing like staring up at Darius Tucker from Hootie and the Blowfish from six feet away and singing every song along with him. No, this time we would have to look at the singers across the length of a football stadium and then some. But regardless.  We were here to see the Eagles. The warm up group was the Dixie Chicks. And the warm up group for the Dixie Chicks was a band called JD and the Straight Shots. They took the stage at six.


JD and the Straight Shot has a front man named JD (d-oh!!) the lead singer. His voice is best suited to the bluesy numbers rather than country rock. The fast numbers were not that good, and he sometimes got a little pitchy (as Randy Jackson would say) or as Anu Malik (Indian Idol judge) would say 'Sur se bahut hat gaye' which basically means - you were singing off-key! There is one number though that stood out - 'Slow motion in reverse' - I might even download it! That being said, JD comes across as folksy, humorous and down-to-earth. They finished their set and left.


Next to us were a couple, Paula and Allan from Hamilton, ON. She was a nurse and funny. Perhaps the beer they'd been drinking had something to do with it. But she was nice and, did I mention, funny?


And speaking of shots. There was this guy that was actually smoking a joint in the row in front of us. We all pounced on him like - Dude - Put it out!! it was making me cough. I did my best I'm allergic to smoke thing. So what IS it with drugs and rock concerts. Seriously? Paula tried to convince me that marijuana was probably more beneficial than alcohol. Her rationale - alcohol sometimes makes mean and obnoxious drunks. Mary Jane? Never. Nobody gets mean on pot. Hmmmm.... 


Fifteen minutes later the lights went down and the Dixie Chicks came on. Fabulous - just fabulous. Talk about true girl power. Natalie's very cropped brunette hair style definitely brings out her best features - she doesn't look as pudgy any more. She looks sexy! Martie and Emily looked awesome. The thing is - these girls didn't waste time chatting with the crowd, instead they wowed them with some of their best songs. One after another after another. Landslide, Ready to Run, Shut up and Sing, Wide open Spaces (which they opened with), and of course I'm not ready to Make Nice. At which point, the crowd went wild - the Canadians appreciate subtlety like that (sez me tongue-in-cheek). But I digress. The show was so entertaining, just watching them interact, my eyes were glued more to the stage than to the big TV screens, and lemme tell you this - they were tiny on that stage from where I was sitting. Yet I had to keep watching them . The power of a live show.


They finished their 45-minute set and left. 15 minutes later, the stage was set for the Eagles. They opened with a number that involved a lot of spots going straight up to the ceiling, and they sang something a Capella. I have no idea what it was. Why? Because the crowd was screaming and so was I and nobody was LISTENING! That's why. Needless to say from that point, it just got better and better. Songs I'd forgotten, and songs I'd known and loved. Of course they sang Hotel California. The beauty of it was - they move the instrumental arrangements around and they move the rhythm section around. But they did not move the main melody at all - so everybody gets to sing it - exactly as they've heard it  a few thousand times before. And they did not mess with one of the  most recognized guitar sections of all times, nor do they mess around with Don Henley's drums - everybody HAS to clap to that beat.. I didn't want or need to see anything any more... But I stayed for the rest of the set. And iI was glad I did. It was rock/country rock at its best from the masters. I think one of the things that I will never forget is this one small segment with Joe Walsh where he held the note on the guitar  string with his left hand, while he lowered the note by releasing the tension on the 6th string with his right hand! It was SICKKKKK! It was almost 11 pm then, and I decided that we needed to go. They were doing their encore set, now. Two songs were done (one of them brought back memories from a certain concert when we were in the 8th Std (grade)). And the spot came on Don Henley on a dark stage as he crooned 'Desperado' ... I sat down. I didn't leave. How could I ? I got goose bumps and nearly cried. It was just amazing. My heart was truly full and satisfied. To see these gurus live.. for an Indian from a little town in India? Un-f***ing-believable. Sorry I am  not listing the songs here, as that would be a spoiler for friends who have tickets to the show in their hometown.


But the Rogers Center - such a letdown. If you have seen the dome, you know that it opens like grapefruit or onion sections. Each section slides into the next - three on one side and one on the other - on giant rollers along the side. This is the only stadium in the world that is designed to open up that way. How do I know it? I've watched it open many times from the 16th or 17th floors of the RBC offices, which are right next to it. Unfortunately, that also means that there is a veritable network of metal in the rafters. The belly of the dome is fully covered by this 'lattice work' of metal. And in the lower decibels, the bass bounces off them. And in the higher decibels, they vibrate. Every time anyone went above a certain pitch- the audio started getting garbled - it was getting thrown at us from multiple points with no dampening. 


Long story short - the acoustics are TERRIBLE. 
Moral: NEVER GO FOR A CONCERT AT THE SKYDOME/ROGERS CENTER .... EVER!! 


Unless of course, its Tina Turner or Pink Floyd or .. oh who am I kidding? I will probably land up there the next time there is one performer coming that I know I may never have the chance to see live again.


Which reminds me - I'd better book those Paul MacCartney tickets now. 

Florenceville, NB - Mukmuk goes to the land of Mi’Kmaq

January 11th, 2010

The very first time I came to Florenceville, New Brunswick, was in December of 2008. I was asked to go there to babysit our database server, while two consultants from the Big Blue ran PoC's with their software. 


New Brunswick is to the East of Maine. A small state that is the only official Bi-lingual state in Canada. It boasts of a small population, amazing fishing and is the home of the Mi'Kmaq natives. The New Brunswick countryside is an extension of the Appalachian range - so even though the mountains are not very high - it is still a rolling vista. 


I only knew I had to fly to Fredericton - the provincial capital, on the banks of the St John river. From there, rent a car and drive for about 140 km to reach Florenceville - home of one of the biggest producers of processed food in North America. Ah! how difficult could it be - the route was straight - get out the airport, hit the Trans Canada Highway and then hop off onto the RR-130. The hotel should be right around there. Mapquest don't lie. (oh yes, did I mention that this was in my pre-GPS days?).

The flight was delayed out of Toronto due to snow. Two hours later the sun was slowing heading towards sundown, when the plane swooped over what seemed to be a vast snowy field, liberally covered with evergreens that stuck out almost like in a picture post card. The plane landed on what seemed to be a vast sea of snow, the wind blowing little swirling dervishes  of snow, red gold in the last light of the sun. It was cold! So very Cold!! I walked out of the airport, into a blowing wind. The rental car was liberally covered in snow, but not that I could not drive it. I jumped in - a Pontiac G6 - and then my adventure began. The first few miles were breathtaking! But slowly the sun went down and I was driving in pitch black darkness. Once in a while, a car drove by, or I came up behind a truck. It wasn't snowing, but the wind from the truck tires blew the snow around, making it hard to see. I drove on for what seemed like hours! At some point, the directions fell off my seat onto the floor. I wasn't going to stop to pick them up. I kept driving. Feeling a little desperate at this point, I finally hit the OnStar button. A very polite lady informed me that I should only use the OnStar service for emergencies. Well, I said, I think I am lost. I am going to Florenceville, New Brunswick and I don't know if I have missed my exit or not. To me that constitutes an emergency. She put me on hold as she tracked me. You're fine, I was informed. You just have to travel a little further. Whew! Finally I hit the exit - at least I thought it was the right exit. Ahead of me was a brightly lit barn - and nothing much. A sign proudly informed me that I was at the Potato Museum! A museum for Potatoes!! WOW!! Of course, at this point I had no idea that Potatoes from Eastern Canada are some of the best! Who woulda thought?! But I digress.

The directions did not seem to make sense. I moved on and then started to despair. I had to cross a river somewhere, I knew - yet I did not see one. Finally, desperate - I called the hotel. A very kindly lady talked me through. She told me where to go, and a few minutes later I was across the bridge. Turn left, follow the signs to the highway, turn right at the top of the hill, go for a couple of kilometers and then you will see a blinking yellow light. The motel is on that corner. 

I faithfully followed her directions - the top of the hill was dark - far away a few dim lights flickered - but a few minutes later I spotted it - a blinking yellow light and next to it - the most beautiful sign in the world. A big MOTEL sign. Sigh!! I was finally at my destination. It wasn't the best of introductions to Florenceville. But then I did not expect the Hyatt either! And it so isn't the Hyatt!

* * * * * 

The next time I flew in on an earlier flight. It was my birthday, and not surprisingly everything went extremely well. I reached the airport early. There were long lines for checkin-s and security - but being a priority club member has its rewards. Oh yes! I found the Starbucks coffee shop, grabbed a chocolate au pain and headed back to the gate. Two of my other colleagues were also traveling with me. I met them there. The plane was a small Regional Air jet. The sky was partially cloudy, the flight was completely uneventful. Picked up our bags and headed out of the airport. I wasn't going to be driving this trip. I ensconced myself in the back and put my feet up. Then I had my camera out. The road winds out of Fredericton for 6 kms before it hits the Trans Canada Highway. I clicked away... Check out the pics.. 

http://picasaweb.google.com/madhumita.routh/FlorencevilleNBMukmukGoesToTheLandOfMiKmaq#

In honor of the fact that it was not only my birthday, but my colleague's anniversary, the managers decided to take us out to dinner at the only fine dining restaurant in Florenceville-Bristol area. 


Let me explain first that eating out in Florenceville, presents several interesting challenges. For example - can you find something on the menu that is not fried? Or is a vegetable - other than corn, potatoes or onions? Healthy choices on the menu are few and far between - and fast food is relegated to the obligatory Subway and Tim Horton's - not even a Wendy's, a couple of pizza places and the pub. So finding someone that does food fresh in a remote out of the way location like this is amazing!


The restaurant is called 'Fresh'. It is owned by Sara - a petite brunette who doubles as the serving staff too. The chef's name is Jeff. The two of them cook up a menu that changes every so often, and use fresh and seasonal ingredients. Their aim - I think - is to provide a dining experience unlike anything you would get in that neck of the woods. Typical New Brunswick food (at least what we saw of it) is junk - fried, pizza, etc. Yet here was this little restaurant that aimed to provide haute cuisine at an extremely (for us Torontonians) reasonable price. 


The restaurant is in a couple of railway carriages, the station is the washroom. The dining room is the first carriage and the kitchen is the second. Heavy wood work, and equally heavy metal furnishings provide a cosy intimate ambiance. The wine is good, the food is excellent. It starts with an amuse bouche (a complimentary dish - usually provided by the chef), followed by an appetizer, a palate cleanser (complimentary) and an entree. And if you still have space in your tummy go for the gold - the dessert. I did - luscious chocolate ganache topped with a ceremonial candle in honor of the day I came to this earth. What I did not know then was that the best dish to order is the chef's special. 


Since then, I have been to Fresh a few times. The last time was this week. I was with my two colleagues Edgar and Ming. Ming has just returned from an exciting two weeks at the Vancouver 2010 Olympics and his souvenir is the mascot's sidekick - Mukmuk. He has now started to record his day or doings using Mukmuk as his mouthpiece. So of course, Mukmuk joined us for dinner. Edgar decided to go with the Chef's choice. Ming and I chose a la carte. Edgar's appetizer was amazingly good. And then his entree was even better - a cornucopia of seafood - mussels, scallops, shrimp and a halibut. I was jealous and told Sara that I wish I had ordered the chef's choice. To my amazement a few minutes later - the chef came out and placed a small dish of scallops for me. They were the most beautifully cooked melt-in-you-mouth scallops that I had ever tasted! 


And then there is Florenceville... with spring officially here, there is barely any snow left on the ground. The leaves have not yet blossomed on the trees. With longer daylight hours - I'm just happier now. And more than happy to be back home in the bright lights and sleep in my own bed! 


Its been a long week. Next week - off to Florenceville again. Wonder what it will bring for me, then!

Beijing - Times Three - Pt 2

A Day Trip to the Sausage Palace!
 Saturday, June 27, 2009

Monday dawned clear. However, it soon started turning foggy. Rain was forecast. Work was work. The day went by in the usual manner. I had dinner back in my room. I was getting to hate this hotel’s in-room dining menu. A salad is about all I could eat and a dessert. Gotta have dessert.

Tuesday dawned smoggier than the day before. I had an email from Kevin, his flight was delayed due to a volcanic eruption near Japan. They would be re-routing to San Francisco, and then on to Beijing. He didn’t think he would make it in that day. Later in the day, another email from him, sitting in the San Francisco airport. Poor chap. It would be a long day for him. I didn’t hear from him, but I was certain if anything untoward happened, or he didn’t make it out of Japan that night, I would hear from him.

The next morning, I saw him on IM – he was in Beijing, and funnily enough, right next door to me! Evidently, they had held up the Beijing flight so he could get on it! Nice service!! Jay was also here, and I would be meeting him for the first time at breakfast. And Siraj would be arriving late on Friday. It was worth all the heartburn to have the whole group there.

But the weather was getting ugly. The smog had gotten thicker and thicker. We could barely see the hotels across the park. The Pan Gu was invisible from my window. See the pics for yourself.

http://picasaweb.google.com/madhumita.routh/BeijingOutAndAboutInBeijing#

Once in the street you could smell the smoke in the air. It was very unpleasant. Wonder what they would have done if it had happened during the Olympics! I was starting to feel uneasy with the smog. It felt like I was in a c-grade horror movie and some guy or THING was going to jump out of the smog at me… some horribly mutated THING! By Friday the smog finally lifted.

We dined well that week – finally!

I had also brought with me two bottles of ice wine along with a box of maple cookies, which I was digging into along with my morning coffee. That first night with all of us there, we chilled a bottle of ice-wine and had it during our 10pm status call. Cheers! (gotta learn how to say Salud in Mandarin).

So let me talk about Jay. He is hilarious and so very American. While Eric is always trying to be culturally correct, and Kevin is somewhere in between, Jay makes no apologies for who he is. Not that he is rude or obnoxious – far from it. He is very careful that way. But otherwise, he loves his ‘concubines’ or the hostesses at the Palm Gardens bar in the hotel. They are all pretty girls and know these guys and their drinks pretty well.

So this one night, we are at the lounge (see pics), and the girls all have new outfits on. Their summer uniforms, as they explained to us. A sleeveless full-length maroon outfit, with a slit up the side – a very high slit, hair piled up high, and a broad silver armband on their right arm. Kevin and Jay and Bob were all excited. They wanted those armbands – for their wives or ….. So I played wingman. As one cute girl did her stir-once-stir-twice-pause-tap-tap routine with Jay’s drink, I complimented her on the armband. It’s so beautiful! I said, is it silver? Yes, she replied smiling prettily. And those are your name tags! I exclaimed – for each arm band is inscribed with the name of the girl wearing it! I looked over at the guys, who were doubling up with laughter by now. When she left, I just raised my eyebrows at them – did they still want those armbands? I could not stop laughing at their chagrined expressions. I don’t think their wives would appreciate it if they brought back name tags inscribed with ‘Una’ or ‘Helena’… oh no! I don’t think it would be appreciated at all!

In between, we met Bob’s latest girl friend. A Chinese woman in her 50s named Li, who had hair down to her knees, and dressed like a twelve-year-old American girl, extremely short skirts, see-through blouses, and tights! In 90 degrees heat! I guess the language constraints made it hard for her to converse with us beyond the ‘ni hao’ and ‘xie xie’. I did not know what to make of her.

We had decided to go to the Made in China on Friday. Peking duck is now officially a tradition for me. I have to have it in China. And the next time I do, I am hoping Sam will be there to join me. It will be fun to introduce her to it. I did have Peking duck at another restaurant the other night, but there’s something about a duck cooked specifically for you, that appeals way too much to me. Or maybe I am just a snob! Sitting in the intimate and not so inexpensive atmosphere of the restaurant appeals to my sense of … shall we say… well being? At least, it made up for a day that had gone horribly wrong from early in the morning, and which I don’t want to record here. After all, this blog is to remind me of the good times, not the bad ones!

Siraj arrived on Friday night, so Saturday morning we let him sleep in. Eric had left on Friday. So that left Jay, Kevin and I to go to the Summer Palace. I had already been here before, but knowing how vast the complex was, I was eager to explore some more. I knew where I wanted to go, across the 17-arch bridge to the South Lake Island, across the lake in a boat, and to the Temple, and finally the theatre. We left early, and were there by 8:15 – though crowds had already started coming in. The day was beautiful – sunny, bright, and no sign of the ugly smog though a slight haze lingered in the breeze. We bought tickets and maps and strolled through the gates.

Now Kevin forgot his camera, and Jay’s was out of battery. I had my two cameras with me – the little Cannon and my big-ass Sony alpha both loaded with 4GB memory cards, enough to go around. I handed one to each of them and said ‘run away and go play, boys!’ They were so happy with the toys, it was funny. I’d already done a whole bunch of pics here with Jane, but this was a different walk. Along the lake, by the paddle boats, and lotuses along the edge of the Kunming Lake, weeping willows swooping into the waters along the walk. We headed to the 17-arch bridge. A bronze statue of a Sitting Bull stands next to a pavilion. We took pictures beside the bull and then noticed that there was this woman, rubbing her back up and down the railings – was she doing a ‘cow’ thing – scratching her back? An old man sat on a bench nearby with his wife. His bearded face was a composition in serenity and Kevin captured it perfectly. I watched people playing with ribbons, and a big screen – a movie screen – in front of which men and women practices T’ai Chi with fans. We could hear the sound of music from the pavilion leading to the 17-arch bridge. We headed to the pavilion. There was an old man narrating the story, a man playing a flute. I could hear a singer. I walked around the pavilion and noticed this woman who was singing the songs, sitting on the railing around the pavilion, her back to her audience. I whipped out the Canon and started filming her, pretty rudely I might add, as I was right in her face. The flautist turned around and played for me as I filmed him. It was beautiful. Sitting the in shade of the pavilion, the breeze blowing through my hair, the lake in front of me, I could have sat their for a while. Kevin noticed a man filming us – Tourists!! How strange it is to be inside the cage instead of outside. I suggested we give him something to film. But Kevin and Jay wouldn’t play along, so that idea died. Scaredy cats!

We walked over to the bridge. People were flying kites. The clear skies above the lake are perfect for flying kites and there were dozens of them floating over our heads, in bright colors and shapes and sizes. Strolling across the bridge we came to the Temple of Extensive Rain. Not much to see there, so we headed around the island to where the boats went across the Lake to the other side. Kevin and I chose to sit on the inner row, while Jay chose to sit on the sunny outer side.

Suddenly, there was a tap on Kevin’s shoulder. Our trio had caught the attention of a family of tourists from inner China. The lady wanted to speak to Kevin. ‘Will you speak to me?’, ‘Of course,’ he replied; and soon there was a tap on my shoulder. Now I am used to the white folks getting the tourist treatment. With my short height, dark hair and skin, I blend in with a lot of Chinese people (especially with a baseball hat on), unless you look at my face. So I was surprised at the tap on my shoulder. It was the daughter. She asked me where I was from, and I said ‘Canada’, she looked puzzled and I said it slowly ‘ Ca-na-da’. And them? She wanted to know. ‘They are from America’ . A few more questions later, they asked us if we would take pictures with them. So Kevin and I posed with them. I looked at the pictures and said ‘hung how!’ (very good!) they were delighted that I could actually say two words in Mandarin - literally!! We ‘xie xie’-d and ‘Qai tzen’-ed our way off the boat. It was a surreal experience for me to be really treated like a tourist. Of course, Jay got a big laugh out of it. So I had to tell them about Jane’s fan club after that. (See my note on Girls’ Day Out).

We walked along the Long corridor, and I got a little disoriented. The boat had actually dropped us off a little further north than I thought it would. But it was all good. A kindly stranger with a map told us where we were. So we walked along till we came to the Temple of the Fragrance of the Buddha. The last time I had climbed those stairs I’d been on treadmills for a few days and was in a little better shape. This time though, I was back to my old level of non-fitness. So I was a little worried that I would not be able to make it all the way up. Kevin offered to carry my big camera bag, and I gladly gave it to him. We climbed to the top, stopping to take pictures along the way - lots and lots of pictures.

http://picasaweb.google.com/madhumita.routh/BeijingSummerPalaceDay2#

Around the back of the temple, I decided to sit for a while. Jay was busy playing with exposures and apertures. Kevin wanted to explore further, why were the people walking up the hill along THAT path? I told him it was the toilets. He was not convinced. So he had to go explore. From my vantage point on the railing, I could see him walking up the path. I waited for him to reach the top and then called him. He had reached the Hall of Supreme Feces, he said – it WAS the toilets. Jay had followed him up, and I went to join them. We walked along a winding path under the trees, heading downhill. A dirt path took us to a little turret with a magnificent view of the lake. Siraj called then, he was up and about! Down the path, exploring a little cave that had been used as an improvised bathroom, yuk! Finally we reached the Hall of Harmony and Longevity (I think that’s what its called). And sometime in between, Jay asked us where we were in the Sausage Palace (how does summer palace become SAUSAGE palace??). and then… were we in the Hall of Harmonious Incest? I will never look at those pictures again without think of Sausage Palaces and Incest… YIKES!!

Then we reached the Grand Theatre – I was determined to get some video footage of the inside of that hall. So I set the camera and walked around, providing a commentary along with it. Not the best video, but it will do.

We headed out, and lo and behold, none of the taxis would go on the meter. A lot of bargaining later, we finally found a cab that would take us back to the hotel for 40 RMB. We headed to the Palm Lounge, and Siraj joined us for lunch. The rest of the after noon we worked. That night we were going to a Chinese restaurant with Allan and Yaw.

Sunday morning, Siraj and I headed to the Silk Market. And now may I announce the king of bargaining, my friend Siraj! We had little time in which to shop and I had a list of things that I wanted to buy. So we ran around picking up silk robes, sunglasses - a pair of Prada and a pair of Oakley for 100 RMB or about 7USD each, - scarves. I was thrilled. Siraj was able to bargain very effectively with them. Plus the fact that we would speak to each other in Hindi and they could not understand what we were speaking about, gave us the edge. I was so pleased with my purchases. And we were back at the hotel by 12:30. Lunch and then we headed back to work.

That night we had decided to have dinner at the Tandoor, but first drinks at the Pan Gu – the 7-star hotel that looks like a dragon. I wanted to pay tribute to my Indian heritage, so I donned a sari – much to everybody’s amazement I might add, and I think it had the desired effect :-P Mostly shock and awe!! Big earrings, a slight touch of make up and my shit-kicker shoes completed the outfit. To our disappointment, the restaurant in the Dragon’s Tail was closed, so we had to make do with sitting in the Karma lounge and having drinks there. Then off we went to Tandoor. Chetan, Bob and Li would be joining us there. It was a wonderful evening. The food was good, the conversation was excellent, the company outstanding. I couldn’t have asked for a better outing. Later that night I had to pack, I knew, for now, I was just going to enjoy myself. And I did.

That was my last night in China for a while. The next day, I flew back to Canada. I’ve packed so many memories into these trips. I hope to have a few more. I know I am not going there this month. Who knows where my next trip will lead me?

The 17-Arch Brige at the Summer Palace

Drinks at the Karma Lounge in the Pan Gu Hotel