A self portrait

I haven't thought of much to post. Actually, I have. But I need to put it down into words and, me being me, this takes some time. But, to fill space in the meanwhile, I've put together a little description of the unique combination of atoms, molecules, genes, quarks and yoghurt that make up the unique personality of the writer... namely me!

I have been described as a man of many faces. While this might just be a colorful metaphor when applied to some, it describes me aptly. There is, for example the morning face, when I've just got out of bed and am trying to unstick my eyelids so that I can make it to the bathroom without seriously concussing myself. This is followed shortly by the fully awake face which is about the time I realize I've dipped said face into a basin of freezing cold water instead of the satisfyingly warm one I've been expecting: an incident that repeats itself day to day. Imaginative readers and first-hand viewers would have no problem in comparing this to the expressions of primates, who've suddenly realized that what they thought was a cushiony green plant to sit upon, is the plant-kingdom equivalent of a pin-cushion.

Then of course, there is the clean shaven consummate gentlemanly face (when I've applied razor and cream to the facial "fungus") and the unshaven, wanted-dead-or-alive version thereof (when I've not applied listed items). There's the bright cheerful and helpful face, applied to students when they ask me questions, and there's the clouded, serious and confused face - which follows when I can't answer the questions. This is usually followed by an off the cuff remark on the lines of "Bugger off, and read! That's what the books are for." Of course, this is more the meaning than the content of my remarks.

I am well built. So well built, in fact, that my fiefdom has encroached into the space (previously empty) around my tummy. I love comedy. Not the slapstick ones, please, but the good, serious ones. I hate tragedy (in uppercase). I'd like to think myself a hopeless romantic, but people stop after the first adjective.

I like lazy Sundays, spent in Cafe's and on the street. I love walking around, discovering new places and, sometimes, rediscovering old ones. I am rather old fashioned in some aspects, I would rather read a book that I can hold than some electronic form, which brings me to my pet hobby... reading. I read avidly, voraciously and gluttonously (insofar as that is possible). Books that make me a part of them from beginning to the end are books I love. I am a certified bibliophile...although I probably lost my certificate under the stack of books in my living room.

My Saturday afternoons are spent in visiting the local bookstore, drinking a Latte Macchiato whilst reading something interesting. I've managed to read three lovely books, so far, to the accompaniment of much coffee and cakes, winning, in addition, the sympathies of the rather fetching woman who serves them in the course of my literary and gustatory activities.

I have simple tastes, although this does not apply to food. My taste buds have outstripped the rest of me, and are quite evolved. They have developed their own religion, and conduct sabbaths and prayer meetings once in a while. They aim to please their God Taste. Not wanting to have jihadi taste-buds mounting suicide missions, I've had to develop my cooking skills.

That, as far as I can remember, is me. All of it!

The secret journals of an avid cyclist (More Motion)

~ On the relative merits of our steeds, Fuessen
and its surroundings, The Forggensee, A disappointment ~

K. joined me shortly, brushed and groomed and looking quite pretty - a sight for sore eyes, which, in this case, was represented by Q. He'd made it, although the looks upon his face were indicative of a deep struggle within. He looked as though a million tiny devils were dancing the hornpipe on his head, with nasty, spiked clogs, and a million more were lending the dancers immoral support. Come to think of it, it was a bloody miracle he could hear a coherent thought through the cheering multitudes.

We wheeled our bikes out: me, my gleaming Shimano-something 21 gear, full iron (okay, so it is a leetle heavy), active front suspension, rear soft-saddle, bargain bike, Q. came next, his Scott cruiser hefted on one arm with all possible Shimano stuff loaded and, last of all, K., with her rather down-on-its-luck contraption. It could be called a bike only by default. It had: wheels (2), chain (1), brakes (2), handlebar (1), something that could have passed for a saddle (1) and pedals (2). It was probably what you could expect if you explained the concept of a bicycle, carefully and conscientiously, in Greek, to a blind, Dutch cattle-herder and then asked him to build one for you. K. maintained, despite our incredulous looks, that her cycle would stand the ardours of the day. This did not surprise us, the unspoken question was: would she?

Fuessen (the 'ue' is the funny German 'u' with the two dots on it) is a small town at the foot of the Alps, home to Germany's (allegedly) most beautiful fairy-tale castle - Neuschwanstein. It was built by Ludwig the second, one of Germany's more batty monarchs. Apparently Neuschwanstein was to be his dream come true - a medieval castle, complete with turrets and the other accessories. It was built between 1869 and 1886, which was about the time that Ludwig ran out of money and, in this time, only about a third of the building was ever completed. Nevertheless, the scenery around the castle and the little village, at the foot of the hill leading up to the castle, are worth a visit. Although, as most of the people flocking to this place are tourists, a certain commercial air pervades the place. Sure, there is the occasional German, or Bavarian family to be found, but this is more in their natural role as a guide for their visitors.

We reached Fuessen, the trains being punctual for once, and got out into brilliant sunshine. Promptly, I shook out my map and proceeded to follow the directions which would bring us to the Forggensee as soon as possible, the tour being a complete circuit of the lake. As I am not a gifted map reader, it took a while before we were actually on our way, and then a little more time while I corrected errors made in the first reading before we were actually on the right way. Pretty soon, we came to the first landmark and that's where we got a shock. According to the map, we should have been able to see the lake from that point. But all we could see was a little depression in the ground, extending over some square kilometers, with the occasional damp patch here and there. Q. and K. turned accusing eyes on me, as though I was singularly responsible for the absence of the lake. I wasn't. So there!

Having come thus far, we decided to plunge on and follow the tour when, presently, we came upon a middle-aged couple taking a little stroll in the cavity. They looked to be locals, out enjoying the lovely day. As the disappearance of a large body of water is not a fact one can take in one's stride, we decided to get to the bottom of this mystery. Conseqently Q. addressed the couple, uttering probably the finest statement I've ever heard: "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, aber wissen Sie wo die Forggensee sich befindet?"

Later it turned out to be not so much of a mystery after all. Apparently the supply to the lake was in the Alps, and the snow hadn't yet melted. Ergo the rather empty patch of land in front of us. Having no choice we continued the tour, circling the depressing depression. But then, at some point, the route branched off from the lake and we shortly came upon a wonderful vista of verdant meadow dotted here and there with yellow flowers (the names of which I do not know) and, as a fitting backdrop to this natural stage, the magnificient Alpine ranges, the peaks still covered with snow, imperial, majestic and, perhaps some kind of proof that there is, indeed, a God. I still have a picture of it somewhere.

To cut a long story short, the rest of the tour abounded with such views and I, reverting to the little Japanese in me, clicked away like there was no tomorrow. Some of my fondest memories are of that afternoon, with K. and Q., playing at the foot of the Alps with nary a care in the world. I am going to do another tour like that. Sometime soon!

The secret journals of an avid cyclist (Things get moving)

~In which we learn of the desires of a lady,
K. described, The travails of Q. ~

It was the Sunday after the Saturday when we'd decided to 'do it' as the Americans so quaintly state. It was going to be a bright sunny day. I woke singing. Stopped when the I heard the deep and plangent groan from my neighbour. Hummed until something blunt struck my wall (on my neighbour's side) with a dull noise, that might have well been described as "thud!". Having thus assured myself and the world at large that, indeed, today would be the right day for the bicycle ride, I performed my daily ablutions full of pep, vigour, vim and life, rushed to the common kitchen to prepare myself a take-away snack for the trip and bumped into K. munching an early breakfast.

Now, I won't normally get into the habit of describing people but K. simply requires description. The simplest way to describe K. would be by saying that K. was a her (or a she). This is not enough, the erudite and inquisitive reader would say, and rightly so. Saying that K. is a she is like saying that the ocean is a trifle deeper than a bathtub. It's a hyperbolical hypobole. (Like a hyperbole, but on the other side of the curve). Think she. Visualize her. Endow her with a lissome body, a fair skin, hay-blond, wavy hair, cut to shoulder length, perfect set of teeth (I would say pearly white teeth, but this would be unfair. Most of the pearls I've seen are only about off-white) and a smile that lots of women would sacrifice their silicone fortunes for... and you begin to get a faint glimmering of what K. is like. I could further complete the picture by describing the terrain in more detail, from the lips to a swan like neck and then further south; but the moment any writer starts doing that, adjectives like 'ruby-red', 'small','high', 'pert' and the like have a tendency to creep into the narrative and, at some point, both the reader, and the writer have to adjourn for a lie-down or a cold shower; so I'll wisely desist from straying.

K. smiled. That is to say, I got a glimpse of the perfect set of teeth. The experience was pleasant, and I intended to undergo it again, if possible. Therefore Conversation ensued. It went along the established lines. I established it was a good morning, to which she assented. I further established her well being at that time of the day and wished her "Guten Appetit". She graciously condescended to accept my wishes and politely enquired of me what I intended on that fine day. "Oh! Nothing much, just thought it would be the perfect day for a little cycling tour," I managed. "Really! where?". I rushed to my room, fetched the map and showed her the route. "Ach! M., I would so like to come along!" "Well, why don't you?" I ventured. After all, my only companion otherwise would have been Q. and I was sure that K. would add color and a certain dash of something to the event. She ruminated. It's always like that with such people. No rash or hasty decisions at all. How much more wonderful the world would be, if we could all be like that!

"M., could you wait for me to get ready? I'll come along too!" Well, of course I would wait. No, it would not in the least bother me. Why, I could even have a little bite to eat, ha ha. And so it was done. K. went off to ready herself and I popped over to Q. and apprised him of the situation. Much as I had expected, Q. did not raise much objection. In fact he was pleased. It turned out that he had partied a little to well and a little less wisely the night before and was working off the effects of those lovely sticky cocktails with amusing names and paper umbrellas in them (in the cocktails, not in the names). He had secretly been afraid that he would not make it through the day and the prospect of another helping hand went to cheer him up quite a bit. It just goes to show how plebeian some people are. I hummed cheerfully and went off to wait, for K. and for Q. The day seemed to be getting better and better.

The secret journals of an avid cyclist (The origins)

~In which things go 'Poing', The recruiting of Q, The planning
of the Trip, The search for the perfect day ~

Like I might have said before, something in my mind went 'poing' ever since I bought the bike. To top it all off, there is a magnificent landscaped garden, the Englischer Garten, right behind my building at the Studentenstadt. Little wonder therefore that my recent and most passionate hobby is cycling. I cycle everywhere possible; to the market; to the town; yea, even to the 'loo and the washbasin. The only problem with the last two destinations is that the moment I sit upon the saddle, I have already arrived.

Being so minded, it was but natural that I would soon tire of these daily, paltry, 5 km rides and look forward to, literally speaking, greener pastures. And so it came to pass that I bought a map of the lakes in Bavaria and planned a route along the 'Forggensee', a small lake in the vicinity of Füssen, a small village at the foot of the Alps. Naturally, such trips are not much fun when one has no company and so I recruited another like-minded soul, Q. (from Poland), to accompany me. We planned this trip initially for the 19th of A. But you know how it is, 'Man proposes and God disposes'. The weather was bad and the only worthwhile thing I did on that day was buy a network card so that I could sit in front if the computer screen 24 hours a day and gawk at my mailbox and other similar and practically useless sites -- almost catching two viruses whilst engaged in the pleasant activity of slavering over scantily clad *ahem!*, I digress, but you get the picture... or rather, I hope you don't.

The next weekend looked promising. Saturday dawned and my hopes rose along with the rising sun (to be more precise, I rose after the sun had already risen, had had breakfast and was doing a brisk jog across the heavens… in other words, I rose pretty late.) Although the day looked promising, Q. counseled caution. His suggestion was that as Sunday was expected to be even better, we might as well put it off by another day. This was no big deal, I had already had this trip postponed for 2 weeks, and a day was no big addition. We dutifully agreed to meet in the kitchen at 7:15 and try and catch the train at 8:51 am from the Hauptbahnhof. This done, we shook our hands on it a couple of times and retired to our respective occupations; he, to a party and self to my room to check if by any inexplicable chance someone had sent me a mail in the last 5 minutes. (no-one had, by the way!)

The day ended and the next day dawned... full of promise and hopes for a sunny pleasant day. (to be contd.)

I try to get fit!

Yesterday I went jogging with K. and L. Well, ‘went jogging’ is, at the same time, an understatement and an exaggeration; I cannot figure which one it is closest to.

So, here is what happened, we met at around 6:30 in L’s room and then (they!) decided to jog around the whole Olympiapark. This, in my opinion, was too ambitious a thought. But then, for fear of being branded a sissy, I agreed.

The starting 300 Mts. was ok, but then I started having a backache. So I slowed down and told them to go ahead. They agreed and told me to take a short cut and meet them at the ice sports stadium. I agreed with the idea of meeting at the stadium but refused to take the short cut (again, the ego in me was to blame). Instead I said I would follow them at a slower pace. This all agreed to but with some reservations, since they would be making it to the place ages before I did.

So having made our mutual decision we went our different speeds…I, at the proverbial speed of the tortoise and they, at the speed of the hare. Well since my back was giving me a lot of trouble (in fact, it is still stiff), I walked a little, and saw I was quite close to where U. stayed, so I decided to visit him. I rang at his door but he was not there. I decided to return to the ice sports stadium, but, since I did not know the way the other two went, decided to backtrack. So walking, I commenced my return, but I looked an idiot, walking in running clothes especially when older people were jogging along quite peacefully and giving me (what seemed like) a satirical smile. Ego deeply hurt, I began a real slow jog reminiscent of an 80-year-old rather than a 20-year-old. Thus plodding I met this fellow doing the same speed as I and we jogged along in quiet companionship for some time, then he remarked on the fact I already have mentioned, namely that we were doing the same speed. I pretended surprise… the fact in reality was that, I did not want to jog alone and so was looking for some one who was doing a slow pace, and who appeared to know a good jogging route. Well, to cut a long story short, I ended up jogging up the Olympia Hill. (Which incidentally, I must add, has a tragic origin. Munich has no hills, it is essentially a flat area. The Olympia hill is built on the rubble of the houses in Munich destroyed in the 2^nd world war. There is a plaque that marks this fact.) and then jogged down again in the company of my new found friend. Then, at the bottom of the hill, he said he would like to jog further and I, wanted to go home and relax. So we parted ways.

Then the real fun started. I got lost… I took some path that seemed vaguely familiar. The problem with these vaguely familiar paths is that more often than not they lead you up the wrong tree so to speak, forgive me for mixing up my aphorisms. I ended up on the diametrically opposite side of the place I wanted to go to. So I had to retrace my path back to the place where we parted ways and make my way back to some known place, in this case the Olympic stadium. To summarize my travails in one sentence, I actually ended up jogging/walking for approximately 2 hours.. poof! Then I went to B.'s room just to see what he was up to and found he was playing AOE. Then, needless to say, I ended up going to sleep at 4 am just when the early birds were waking up and consuming gluttonous quantities of early worms and woke up at 12 in the afternoon.

Fitness? Well, it is good, but not for public consumption!

My new addition

Ordered, bought and read Neil Gaiman's Stardust yesterday. I loved it. Think Enid Blyton writing for a gaggle of adults open to the child in them and you have an idea of what Stardust is like. The story follows the adventures of young Tristran Thorn, as he sets out east into the land of the Faerie, thought the hole in the town of Wall, in search of the fallen star he promises his sweetheart in return for her hand in marriage. (Or, it may have been a kiss!)

Covering romance at all levels, interleaving well known fairy tales and an impish humor, the story satisfies... deeply! Wish he would write more like it. Well, not exactly like it, mind you, but more along the same lines.

Spammers and their ilk

I believe that almost everyone with an email account must have, at some time or the other, received emails from utter strangers promising them huge sums of money for some "help" in transferring funds out of "XYZ" bank for whatever reasons. The email is generally written in poor english and contains the same basic plot: someone in a backward country has embezzled massive amounts of money and now is (a) dead, (b) incarcerated or (c) under scrutiny and about to be executed or incarcerated. The monetary assets gathering dust in some foreign country now need airing. The email recipient then receives the following commendation "you have been recommended to us because of your honesty, integrity, philanthrophy, bla bla bla..." with the plea "please help us and you shall get x%" of the amount.

Well, I tried to get in touch with some of these scamsters to see what they would come up with and how long I could string them along... I'll try post some of the responses and my emails in return. It's a lot of fun, provided they keep believing I am some money crazed goat, ready to believe any Tom, Dick and Abacha who wants to pump part of his fortune into my account!

--- Yukos - Contact : Cathrien Jin Tzou En ----
Email from the secy. to the Yukos chairman. I thought it was a Russian firm and so am more than a little puzzled by the Chinese name! I don't have the first two emails, but the later ones are as follows:

From the chinese lady (abbreviated as CL)

Dear XXXXX,

Thanks for your mail. Please do bear with me okay am very happy that you are willing to be of help towards this transaction. I will advise you to send you Private phone number? Fax, Nationality, Date of birth, Occupation and home address. With this information, I will prepare some good document, which I will send to you as the right beneficiary of this fund. I will advise you open an account in Netherlands Amsterdam. Please do let me know if this is okay by you, so that I can update you with the bank, which can be of understanding to accommodate such huge amount of fund. List I forget, do make sure you send your scanned page of your international passport or driving license. You do not have anything to worry about, do make sure you can keep this transaction more secretly, this transaction is 100% risk and hitch free,and 30% of this fund will be yours at the end of this transaction. I will be hoping to hear from you. Please I do count on you that I can trust you with all my life. Once this fund gets to the account you open, I will come over and join you over so that I can use my part of fund to invest in your country. Do get back to me as soon as possible.

Best Regards,

MS.Cathrien Jin Tzou En.

All friendly and nice isn't it? I get 30%, the female gets 70% and all is lovey dovey. It's so touching that she even trusts me with her life. All i have to do is open an account in Amsterdam, she will even tell me what banks offer such services, send her my *passport/driving licence copy* and some other less important particulars like phone number and the like. Here is what I had to say

From Me

Dear Cathrien, (may i call you cathrien?) ** I am trying to cozy up to her. Perhaps this would put her at ease!**

I am very happy to know you are taking steps to give me the money. I am not in netherlands and so it will be difficult to open an account there. At present I do not have a private phone or fax. All my phones and faxes are open to the thirty and odd members of my family who are constantly expecting calls from other strangers who want to give them money. So I ask you to use email as the mode of communication as I do not want to share the money with those greedy bast***s.

Excuse me for the question but why do you need my scanned driver's license? People tell me this is how scamsters use the information for identity theft. I don't want my identity stolen, I would not know who I was then. I am having enough difficulty holding on to my identity as it is. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched with sweat and afraid that someone has stolen my identity and now I am to be relegated to the very dregs of society, wandering with those poor misfits who've also had the same misfortune befall them.

Yes, please also tell me how i can keep this transaction completely risk free? Maybe you could send me a copy of your driver's license as a show of good will and then I could send you mine

Can I also become a partner in your investments in my country? I see this as a way of making more money and then I shall be richer than my brother in law. That bas**** received an email from some sheikh who promised him 40% of 120 Million US Dollars. I think it is a scam, but he says he has already received some money. My family bless you for your generosity. I hope to see the transaction ended soon.

Suffice to say, that was the last I heard of her.

An old trip

Sometime ago, I had the opportunity to cycle along the Mosel. I wrote up the travel in a staccato, diary-like way with the (admirable) intentions of padding it up in the course of time. However, the only thing that happened was that I did not get down to it and, now, I cannot get down to it, having forgotten the little details that make any trip so interesting. So, for what it is worth, my little black book of the trip:

------ The secret diaries of an avid cyclist (after one trip!) ----

Back from an exhilarating, exhausting and yet, refreshing cycle tour along the Mosel. Here follows a very brief description of the tour. I am in the process of writing it up completely so a thicker version can be expected soon...

Day 1-Luxembourg main city visit, with some time spent walking/biking along the city ramparts and visiting the basilica. Then took the train to Metz (Fr.) where we spent the night. This was where we began the tour. Dinner was in a little Brittany-esque Crepe place. Food was good. Tasted somewhat like a dosa with cheese and cream and egg filling. To accompany this meal, we had the local brew (apple cider).

Day 2 - Metz. It has an imposing cathedral and a very nice altstadt (old city). We spent a lot of time in the cathedral. I bought some postcards and then we spent time writing these postcards over a coffee in a little cafe opposite the cathedral. It was 12 in the afternoon when we finally started. We wanted to reach the German border (Perl) by the end of the day. Seeing that it was a good 70 km, we started in right earnest. The first part from Metz to Thionville (36km) was not so comfortable as we had to come into the main street quite often. We stopped for "lunch" at a French patisserie et conditorie (Pastries and sweets) shop in a little town called Illange. We reached Thionville at around 5:00 pm and sent off the postcards. From Thionville onwards, the road is only for bikers and is also better laid. This being favorable, we set off in good speed reaching Perl at around 8:30 pm (a dist of 28 km).

Day 3 - Perl-Konz This was another nice day with us biking in good weather (sun and the like). We reached Konz in the evening and found all the hotels booked. Therefore we had to stay in a little place called Zewen (about 5 km from konz). This was not without its advantages either. Here we had (arguably) the best food on our trip in a little Italian restaurant! Therefore we stayed here for two days

Day 4 - Konz-Tier-Konz morning visited Tawern, the site of an ancient Roman temple. The weather grew a bit uncomfortable today. Chilly with strong headwind. Spent the day visiting Trier, which is supposed to be a very old city (some say it is the oldest city in Germany). Saw the Porta Nigra (Black Gate) and the cathedral (again very impressive). Returned to the nice restaurant in the evening for dinner. Was a relatively relaxed day as we did not bike much (only some 40 km)

Day 5 - Konz- Bernkastel-Kues... probably the longest day on the saddle. Some 90 km in total with small pauses for drinking and eating. Arrived at Bernkastel, fighting against headwind. Weather - cold. The advantage of the headwind however, was that the rain clouds were blown away from our path and behind us. So we did not get wet! In the evening, ate Indian food as this seemed to be the only restaurant having something vegetarian

Day 6 - Bernkastel-Kues - Bullay: Visited the local castle in Bernkastel. Steep uphill with a superb view on top. Took the ship for a short stretch. Then, later in the day, took the path through the wineyards, which meant a considerable uphill journey and panoramic views. Stopped at Bullay-Alf for the evening. Dinner was at a greek restaurant with a sampling of the local wine at a local pub.

Day 7 - Bullay - Loef (This brought us quite close to koblenz... only some 25 km away. Saw the impressive castle at Cochem on the way. The journey from Cochem, for most part, followed the main road. This was slightly uncomfortable and so we did it as quick as possible.

Day 8 - Koblenz - back home. Reached Koblenz with a 3/4 hour delay beacuse my chain broke and we spent some time fixing it (improperly). Limped into the Deutsches Eck (German corner) where the Mosel merges with the Rhine. Took the ferry across to see the castle Ehrenbreitstein. Very impressive and very defensible. On the way to the station, chain broke again (irreparably) and so pushed the bike the rest of the way. Reached home at around 9 pm

And so it begins...

I've got a blog. Again! The first one is/was not what I (or anyone else for that matter) would call an unqualified success. In fact, even loaded with qualifications, it would not be deemed a success. It featured some twelve posts, after which I presumably tired of it. Plus, the name was not catchy enough. So, here is my next attempt. I think, just to add some meat to the blog on the very first day, I'll cannibalize my old blog and take out the juciest entries. One day, in some distant future, I shall sit by the fireside and pore through my blog and wonder how all that ever got written. Well, chances are I'll probably quit on the second week, but there is no harm in dreaming, is there?