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We finally had the first wedding in our family last month.  My cousin Shalu, as she is affectionately called, got married on April 15th in Houston, and I of course, went home to take part in the festivities.  (Tax day will never be the same in the Kenia household, Neelesh you better be expecting a refund each year so you can take your wife out!) 

I got there on a Wednesday afternoon, after my luckily uneventful 10 hr flight from London (it’s true, I still have a slight fear of flying).  That night was spent bonding with my family as mom, dad and I went out for some Mexican food, and caught up over enchiladas and a few margaritas.  The jetlag (and the margaritas) soon set in and we called it an early night.   

The next day was the mehndi, a traditional ceremony where henna is applied to the bride’s arms and feet in preparation for the wedding.  The festivities were being held at my aunt and uncle’s house.  Shalu looked radiant, grinning away as she sat there patiently for hours while the mehndi was being applied meticulously to her hands.  Of course, we were all around to make sure she was constantly entertained…I’ll have to give my brother credit for that one.  By the time it was all said and done, she had spent eight hours sitting there!  I’ve never known Shalu to be the patient type, but I suppose knowing she had to look good for her own wedding might have convinced her to stick it out ( just kidding cous).  I had some henna put on one hand, just a simple design as I had no desire to sit there any longer than was necessary. 

That night my friends drove down from Austin with my favorite adopted niece, Liah (who I’ve decided is the cutest baby in the world) to spend some time with us and of course attend the wedding.  My dad was especially thrilled with having a baby around, and I’m not sure who was entertaining who.  I do remember at one point sitting at the kitchen table and looking over at them.  All you could see was the tops of their heads and hear both of them giggling.  Apparently they were playing a game which involved hide and seek with Cheerios, which I later found in various nooks and crannies in the sofa. 

The wedding and reception took place on Saturday, which started with frantic phone call from Shalu as she needed help getting dressed before the wedding.   I, along with Shalu’s sister Ruchi and one of her friends Kim, helped her with her final touches before taking her down to the wedding hall.  I got my first glimpse of the groom on that day, and while I had heard a lot about Neelesh, I had never met him in person.

After Shalu and Neelesh were seated in the mandap, I sat there still finding it hard to believe my little cousin was actually getting married!  We had some family visiting from Chicago, and I hadn’t met one of my cousins yet so it was great catching up with them.  After the wedding, we took some family photos and then hung out with our cousins in the hotel before getting ready for the reception.  Chaitan was practicing his speech for that night as he and Ruchi were to be the MC’s.  Poor guy looked like he was ready to get the show on the road which started an hour after we had originally thought.  Somehow we forgot about cocktail hour (how is that possible?)  Anyway, Chaitan and Ruchi were great as the hosts for the evening, and after sampling the food and grooving to a few tunes, it was all over.  Time for the after party!  We thought we’d be hanging out at the bar in the hotel lobby, except that they forgot to keep it open for us.  Then we thought we’d hang out at the local bar nearby, which we managed to get kicked out of.  So, in the end we sat by the hotel pool and chatted…wrapped in towels as it was kind of breezy that night (you would think I would have gotten used to the cold by now having lived in London for a year).  With only a stolen pitcher of beer from the bar next door (no, that’s not why we got kicked out), we passed the next couple of hours just relaxing and chatting…which ironically was a nice way to end the night. 

It’s a lazy Sunday morning and raining outside so before my pea-sized short term memory disappears I thought I should probably document what’s been going on this year.  2006 has been a busy one so far.  I moved flats in January and now live with one of my colleagues in a townhouse in a great part of the city.  Those who have visited so far can attest to that!  I no longer have that matchbox feeling and being able to walk around my place and up and down the stairs has led to a sense of home and freedom.  It’s amazing how feeling more settled just changes your outlook on things. 

February was the month to reconnect with old friends.  As some of you know, I spent part of my early childhood in Tripoli, Libya.  My parents had made some good friends there, and everyone had kids around the same age.  One of my buddies at the time was Sejel, a fellow oil brat a few months younger than as me.  Of course being girl friends at the age of 3 involves running around and being silly.  Not much seems to have changed in almost 30 years!  While digging through some old papers Sejel’s dad found my parents contact info in Houston.  After a phone call, they realized we were all living in London, and about a week later, Sejel and I met up for dinner after a hiatus of probably 15 years.  We bonded instantly and have spent a lot of time together since then.  I met her brother Sachin as well later that evening, and I’m amazed at how well we all get along.  We’ve been enjoying everything London has to offer, which is a completely different experience when you’ve got two locals showing you around.

Later that month I had my first visitor of the year, as Phil came over from New York for an extended weekend of fun with one of his favorite friends (yes, that’s me putting words in his mouth)  :-)  We had a blast, visiting some great restaurants, including Chutney Mary (a must visit if you are looking for great Indian food in London) and partying until dawn on a few occasions.  One of those nights involved a visit to the famous Ministry of Sound.  We didn’t get there until 3am, having closed down the club at another venue before that.  Even at that hour, the place was packed with young 20-somethings grooving to music which was playing at an ear-piercing volume.  We settled in and joined the party for a few hours.  Finally at about 6, we decided to head out, and by the time we got home the sun was up.  Needless to say, it took me a few days to recover from that weekend! 

In early March, three of us (myself, Michelle and Parul) headed down to Pau, a small town in southeastern France for some fun in the snow.  On Michelle’s insisting, I spend the first day attempting to snowboard.  Of course, being the tender age of 32 my body isn’t as young as it used to be so after falling for the 20th time, I decided I had enough.  On Day 2, I was back on skis and feeling a lot more confident!  Woohoo!  I was still a bit nervous as I hadn’t skiied in probably 5-6 years, but I was able to pretty much pick up where I left off.  The weather unfortunately wasn’t cooperating that day and taking the ski lift up, we were wondering what we were getting ourselves into.  The higher we went, the cloudier it became, and at the drop off point, visibility was about 10 feet.  It became clearer as we skiied down as the outline of the nearby scenery appeared.  I thought, wow, it must look amazing on a clear day, with snow-capped trees, and beautiful chalets dotting the French Pyrenees which served as our surroundings for the weekend. 

It’s hard to believe that at this time last year I was scurrying around a like a chicken with it’s head cut off trying to sell my condo, pack up my things and in the process, remind myself why I had decided to disrupt my perfectly normal life and move halfway across the world.  So, am I glad I did it?  Definitely.  This past year has been an eventful one, filled with lots of new experiences.  I love the fact that I had five weeks of vacation to explore the world and visit friends and family.  I managed to visit three countries I had never been to before, Ireland, Portugal, and Mexico, all of which I would love to go back to one day.  I also managed to revisit France, India, Spain, the Netherlands, and Scotland…although the latter two were for work and therefore don’t really count.  Oddly enough, I’ve come to realize that the more of the world I see, the less I feel like I have seen….a rather strange phenomenon, but perhaps one that reinforces my passion for traveling and seeing new places. 

The last six weeks of the year were quite hectic, with trips to Spain, Portugal, and the States all taking place.  Spain was great as I was able to catch up with Cathy, Rick, Patrick and Prathi for a mini reunion.  I loved how we were able to pick up where we left off from the last time we had all seen each other.  The weekend was (in usual fashion) filled with partying and catching up.  So what if the catching up was at 6am over a cup of hot chocolate after dancing all night at a club!  I thought it would be tough to keep in touch with friends after moving to London, but that trip made me realize it doesn’t really matter where I live….there will always be a phone, airplane, or mail box! 

My trip to Portugal was with Michelle, who I will be living with starting next month, and some of her friends.  I wasn’t sure how it would be as I hadn’t really hung out with Steve or Caleb much, but the trip was a blast.  We went to visit Ferreira, one of the many port makers, and had a tour of the factory and sampled some port wine.  I had no idea that there are actually 2 different types of red and three different types of white port.  Although never a fan before, I’ve begun to appreciate port wine.  It can be really sweet, but is quite nice in small doses.  Needless to say, we enjoyed trying them out in the tastings.  Of course, we had to sample the nightlife as well.  I thought people in Spain started partying quite late, but those guys are early birds compared to the Portuguese!  We went to a club at 2AM (normally the time one would be on their way out) and it started to get crowded at that time.  I think we left a 5 and people were still coming in!

My last trip of the year was a trip home.  I was feeling ancy the entire week prior at the office as I was ready to be with my family.  I didn’t get there until the 23rd, and by then, almost the entire extended family had arrived at our house in Houston.  We were having a family reunion, something we try to do every two years or so with my dad’s side of the family.  Of course, it meant having 23 people in the house, but it was nice to see everyone.  Being the eldest, I have 11 cousins ranging in age from 16-31.  Phew!  We left for our cruise on the 26th, and spent the next five days at sea with stops at Progresso and Cozumel, both in Mexico.  I was a bit nervous, having never been on a cruise before, and sure enough the first night I had to start the dramamine as the rocking of the boat started hitting me.  Our stop at Progresso included a day excursion to the ancient Mayan ruins in Chichen Itza.  Our tour guide took us all around, and after visiting all the sites, we were able to climb the pyramid.  The view from the top was amazing, with the surrounding areas covered in greenery and dotted with other Mayan ruins.  The following day we arrived in Cozumel.  I’ve never been to a city two months after it has been hit by a hurricane.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but we saw the destruction right away.  For starters, we couldn’t dock as the piers had all been destroyed.  We had to be ferried to land by smaller boats that pulled up alongside the cruise ship to collect passengers.  As we drew closer to the shore, I saw broken concrete slabs and metal wiring all strewn about, and realized that it must have been a pier.  I sat there in awe wondering just how strong those winds and just how high that storm surge must have been.  We reached land and hired a van to take us around.  Our first stop was the beach.  Ah, it felt nice to lay in the sand and take in the beautiful blue water, which was only enhanced of course, by a margarita.  I attempted snorkeling for the first time.  It’s a bit strange breathing underwater, but once you get used to it, it’s a lot of fun.  I saw schools of fish of all different colors, dashing in and out of coral.  I wish I could have been there before the hurricane to see what it would have looked like.  While I’m no scientist, the erosion was pretty evident.  A great experience though, and after a pit stop to do some shopping we made it back to the boat.  We arrived back in Houston on New Year’s Eve, and brought in 2006 at a local Mexican restaurant, which had amazing seafood.  If you are ever in Houston, I highly recommend a trip to Hugo’s…the ceviche is excellent! 

It amazes me just how much changes every time I go to India.  The country still has a long way to go when it comes to obvious signs of development such as infrastructure and pollution control, etc. but things are definitely getting better.  It had been three years since my previous visit, and with the trip only half as long from the UK, it was time for a visit.  I landed in Delhi the night of October 29th, which also happened to be the day of the bomb blasts in three of the local markets.  My brother landed two hours before me, coming in from Bombay and our poor mother was a wreck, wondering if we would make it out of there without incident.  Needless to say, my shopping trip had to be postponed and instead we woke up the next morning and headed to Chandigarh, which is about a 4 hour drive north of Delhi.  My grandmother was in a hospital there, and we were hoping to bring her home soon, as she had been there for over 3 weeks.  The roads were decent in the city, but I was reminded just how little life had changed once we reached the countryside.  We were fighting for our bit of open road with bullock carts, cars, trucks, cows, dogs, bicycles, and traffic coming from the other side.  As a result, a 250km drive that would probably take two hours on an open road in Texas takes half a day in India!  Anyway, we reached safely and headed up to my nani’s (nani is mom’s mom in Hindi) room to check up on her.  She was still fairly weak but doing better, which was a relief. 

With Diwali being the next day we decided to head home to Buria (my mom’s hometown) for the celebrations.  Another three hour drive later we were welcomed by my aunt, uncle, and cousins.  The haveli (house) had been decorated beautifully with lights, and I had a fleeting image of what it must have looked like when it was first built 250 years earlier.  It still has some rooms I haven’t entered and little nooks and crannies waiting to be discovered.  Most of the rooms in the 3 story structure have been shut for years.  My mom was born and raised in that house and has many fond memories of growing up there.  We went to the temple in the evening, came home and had a nice meal, and then headed out to the courtyard where my cousin wanted us to light the million fireworks he had purchased the week before.  We had fun setting off the sparklers, rockets and star shots.  The poor dogs were scared to death and huddled together at the back of the house. 

It was good to spend some time with our family and we hung out there for another day before heading back to Chandigarh to check up on nani.  We stayed up there just for the day, spent some time with her, and then my brother and I came back in the evening.  The next day we received some great news and nani came home with my parents to a big welcome home celebration.  Two days later it was time to leave again.

Chaitan and I headed back to Delhi to meet up with a friend of mine from London and all three of us headed down to Bombay.  That night Chaitan showed me around Bandra, the part of town he lives in.  We had dinner at a restaurant which was walking distance from his flat.  Dinner consisted of crepes, which were quite tasty…it had only been a week, but I needed a break from Indian food!  Everyone around us was in western wear, speaking in English, and probably in their 20s and 30s.  I was thinking, wow, this has really become a cosmopolitan city.  It was the first time in a week I was able to order a glass of water from the server and not have to remember any Hindi. 

The next morning I met up with Michelle and Parul, two of my friends from London and we headed down to Goa for a mini girls trip.  It was a nice and relaxing break, just what I needed after a hectic first week.  Our hotel was amazing, we stayed at the Marriott in Panjim, which is in central Goa.  It felt like a 5 star hotel in the US, and the service was so good we felt like movie stars!  We got there on a Monday afternoon.  We explored the local market that afternoon and hung out by the pool, which gave way to an amazing view of the sea.  In the elevator, a guy heard us talking and asked if we were American.  Dharmesh and Anish had English accents and looked to be about our age, but Dharmesh was visiting from the US.  We later saw them with their family at dinner.  The next day we hired a taxi for the day and explored north Goa, heading up to Fort Aguaba, on to Calangute, and then up to Baga beach, where we went for a swim in the ocean.  It was unbelievably crowded, and we were told it was the after Diwali rush.  We felt a bit strange getting into the water in our bathing suits.  Goa is a pretty laid back place, but with all the locals there, women were getting into the water with their full salwar chameez’s on!  We sat at one one of the local shacks on the beach and shared a lobster and toasted to a beautiful sunset.  Afterwards we went to a restaurant recommended by the hotel and enjoyed the Goan fare.  The seafood in Goa is amazing, we didn’t have a bad meal the whole time we were there.  Our driver took us back to the hotel and we crashed. 

The next morning, we hired another taxi for the day and went back to the beach side of Fort Aguaba which was really nice and a lot less crowded.  Once we were on the beach, we took a dolphin cruise on a speedboat which was a lot of fun.  We saw Fort from the water, and managed to spot at least a dozen dolphins, racing in and out of the water.  We hung out on the beach for a little while and then headed up to Anjuna to the famous market they have every Wednesday.  Talk about a whole different world!  I’ve never been in such a big market in my life, it seemed to go on forever.  Going down one alley just led to another one and another one until you finally ended up on the beach.  We spent a few hours there, buying gifts for friends and for ourselves!  They were selling everything from jewelry, clothes, wall hangings, etc.  We headed back to the hotel for dinner and then got ready for a night out on the town.  We figued we had to party at least one night in Goa.  We originally had planned on going to Club Cabana, as Wednesday was ladies night which meant free entry and free booze all night long.  Much to our disappointment, it was closed, apparently for political reasons.  So, instead we headed over to another club which I can’t remember the name of.  Entry was free but the booze wasn’t.  Oh well…we would just have to make the most of it as none of us brought too much cash thinking we wouldn’t need to buy any drinks!  We were on the dance floor when some guy approached us and asked if we were the ones they ran into in the elevator.  We recognized Dharmesh and Anish and met Dharmesh’s wife.  We hung out with the three of them all night and had a great time.  Anish lives in London as well, not far from where I am.  I never thought I’d meet another Chelsea resident in Goa of all places…such a small world.  There were so many Europeans at the club that it didn’t feel like we were in India. Of course the locals were fascinated by them and at one point it felt like I was watching an episode of MTV’s Wild On (I’ll just leave it at that).  We didn’t leave the club until after 4am.  It turns out that our new friends were going back to Bombay the next day as we were and we talked about meeting up with them there. 

We got back to Bombay to Thursday night and met some of Chaitan’s work friends for some South Indian food at Dosa Diner.  On Friday while Chaitan was at work, Michelle and I decided to do some shopping at the local markets.  In the evening we went to Saffron, a great North Indian restaurant.  It turns out that Dharmesh et al were staying at that hotel so we met up with them afterwards for a drink and then all headed to the club in the same hotel.  The next morning we headed over to the Gateway of India, and from there we caught a boat to go see the caves at Elephanta, which has been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. It took us about an hour to get there, but the water was quite calm, and there was a nice breeze blowing.  The caves were amazing, and represent a series of temples dedicated to Lord Shiva.   In the foyer is a huge carving of Lord Shiva in what appears to be a Buddhist pose.  It’s hard to imagine a more peaceful and serene sight.  I sat there and stared at it for a few minutes, and could feel my body relaxing and a sense of calm coming over me.  Definitely worth a visit. 

I was told when I moved here that the rest of Europe would be at my fingertips.  I didn’t realize just how true that statement was until I went to Paris last month.  Two and a half hours on the Eurostar is all it takes to be in a different world.  Amazing.  I met Parul and Shankara at King’s Cross Station on a Friday evening to catch the 7:45PM train.  We checked in, cleared security and had our passports checked just as you would if you were taking an international flight…ok, ok so I was a bit enamoured by it all, but hey, it was my first international train ride, I was excited!  We boarded the train, and spent the next few hours gossiping and playing UNO.  My friends and I have had this obsession with playing UNO for the past month or so.  I hadn’t played this much since I was about 10!  We got to La Gard du Nord (Paris North station), and bought tickets for the metro.  Our hotel was in the 11th district, near the Voltaire station.  It was close to midnight by the time we checked in and were ready to hit the town.  We weren’t sure how late the metro stayed open so we wandered to a bar nearby to get a drink.  My French, I soon realized, is probably worse than a 2 yr old’s…as I was struggling to order a vodka and coke.  They didn’t have vodka so we asked for rum instead.  The bartender must have thought we were alcoholics because he filled the glass with rum and topped it off with coke!  That was enough to sustain me for a while.  John and Naresh met up with us at the bar and we chatted for a while.  They had come in the day before and were telling us of their travels.  We were all a bit tired from the week so we wandered back to the hotel to get some sleep.  Paris had been experiencing a heat wave, and just like London, there is no air conditioning in the hotels.  Well, at least not in the two star ones.  I’m sure if we had decided to pony up for the Ritz we would have some A/C, but, we thought we’d save that for another trip.  ;-)  We managed to survive the night…it actually wasn’t that bad, we had a couple of windows, and luckily a light breeze was blowing so we left them open. 

On Saturday, we spent most of the day just wandering around the streets of Paris.  It helps having a friend that lived there before, and knows some of the locals.  The evening was spent having a picnic by the Seine, with one of Paris’s most famous restaurants right behind us, La Tour D’Argent.  Afterwards, we headed over to a club called Le Tango.  This place is open so late that they even serve breakfast at 4AM!  No, we didn’t stick around to see how it was, but came pretty close. 

Needless to say, getting up the next morning was no easy feat.  We were supposed to meet Shankara at the Ganesh festival, in which him and probably over a thousand others walk along the streets of Paris to celebrate the birth of the Hindu God Ganesha.  I didn’t know what to expect, but what I saw was simply amazing.  For a minute I thought I had been transported to southern India.  I’d never seen so many barefoot sari and dhoti-clad people, broken coconuts, and garlands in my life!  Dozens were pulling chariots that housed bronzed statues of Ganesh though the streets, chanting prayers.  We joined the devotees on their walk for a few minutes near the end of their journey. 

Imagine sitting in a small airplane that taxis down a grass runway, takes off, and slowly climbs to 12,000 feet.  You are sitting on the floor of the plane in a full bodysuit, wearing a harness, a hat and a pair of goggles, and are strapped to a complete stranger with a few metal hooks.  Your buddy (you become friends quickly when you realize his life is in your hands) has already done this a few times earlier in the day and is joking around like its no big deal.  You rehearse the dive motions with him that you learned in training earlier in the day as he checks the hooks to make sure they are secure.  As the plane levels off you put your goggles on. The door is opened, and you scoot towards it, with some persuasion from your buddy who swears he’s done this a million times and it’ll be fun.  Soon enough, you are sitting on the edge of the doorway, with your feet dangling below.  You can hear the roar of the engines and feel the cool crisp air on your face.  You look down, and you see the ground, which at this point looks like a patchwork of green and gold and you ask yourself "What the hell am I doing??"  Then you let go, well, actually, your buddy does, and you just go with him as the two of you freefall at 120 miles per hour towards the earth.  The air rushes at your body, your arms are legs are outstretched, and after spinning for a few short seconds, you catch the horizon.  After another few seconds the chute opens up, and instead of hurtling, you are suddenly gliding very slowly, suspended above the fields, with the only noise the slight rustle of the wind and the sound of your heartbeat.  The sight of miles and miles of land below is unbelievable, breathtaking.  You feel high from the adrenaline rush and scream all the lines from the Titanic at the top of your lungs (oh come on, admit it, you would if you found yourself having just jumped out of a plane and still alive).  The trip down is much slower, and it feels like a while before the ground starts to look bigger.  Your buddy is able to spin the chute around with the toggles he’s holding in either hand, and you get the 360 view of the landscape unfolding beneath you. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, and visibility is as good as it’ll ever get.  As you get closer, the see the outline of the airfield from which you just flew, nearby farms, trees, the town center and miles and miles of open land that is the beautiful English countryside.  Given your Texan tendencies, you teach your British buddy how to yeehaw, and the two of you find yourselves doing this the rest of the way down.  The ground comes at your much faster than you realize, and you assume the landing position and touch down in a seated position.  Then you start jumping around and screaming because you just did something you never thought you would do…and you lived to tell the tale! 

Yes, I finally went skydiving yesterday after trying to go for months.  We originally intended to go in March but had to reschedule twice due to bad weather.  We couldn’t have picked a better day to go though, as it was a clear sunny 78 degrees day, which is just so rare here in England!   We had to get up at 5:30AM to drive up to the airfield, which was in Cambridgeshire, about an hour and a half drive out of the city.  We were there by 7:30AM, checked in, went through the training and waited for our turn to go.  I could feel the butterflies in my stomach as they called our names.  We went into the hanger, put on our gear, and met our diving partners.  Mine (who’s name I can’t remember) made me feel at ease right away as I’m sure he saw the nervousness on my face!  As we started walking out toward the plane he decided to start singing a song with my name in it, and I started laughing.  We taxied for a while, slowly picked up speed and took off towards the sky.  As I saw the ground getting smaller and smaller, I thought, ok, that’s high enough for me!  Luckily my attention was diverted by my buddy as we started talking about our lives and where we were from.  The rest of the story you read above.  I was still feeling the euphoria for hours afterwards, and still trying to convince myself that I had just jumped out of a plane.  It was an incredible experience though, I’m ready to go again!

Here’s my brother’s perspective on the recent flooding in Mumbai. Interesting reading, I’d be curious to hear your comments.

Mother Nature, it is said, is the great equalizer.  Human achievement, wealth, and society pales in the face of her fury, for she is at the controls; with either too much of water, our lifeblood, or a lack of it, civilizations that have taken thousands of years for us to construct live or die.

This axiom proved itself in Mumbai last week, as all strata in this class-conscious society were affected by the floods. Slum-dwellers and millionaires saw the water wash away their belongings; water seeped into the bungalows of famous film stars, forcing them out on the streets with the rest of this teeming metropolis. Not even the chief minister of Maharashtra, the state of which Mumbai is the capital, had electricity or running water in his house (and had to be evacuated by the Indian navy).

Mother India has had the misfortune to have a double dose of nature’s fury in the last year; once in December 2004 during the tsunami calamity, and again last week when the clouds above Mumbai burst forth, pouring an unimaginable 36 inches of rain into antiquated 150-year old drainage system in the span of 24 hours. Three feet of water in 24 hours. In Houston, when it pours all day, we used to get maybe five to six inches of rain in a day – and that would be the worst day in a year. This was the highest recorded rainfall ever in India and the brunt of it fell on the country’s economic engine.

The water proved to be worse than any other beast nature could have dreamed up and more adept at spotting the weaknesses of humankind. It seeped through car windows and doors, causing people to drown while stuck in traffic jams; burst forth from rivers, raising water levels in instants; leaked through roofs, permanently tarnishing cherished belongings. Last week was a sobering week for all us who are related in someway to Mumbai, for it was a chilling reminder of minuteness of human aspiration in the face of nature’s abilities. This is a city which was dreaming of becoming the next Shanghai or Dubai; which aspired to be the financial and commercial hub of a country that is quickly arriving on the international scene. Over forty-eight hours, it was transformed into the watery grave of a thousand souls and the source of misery for the millions they left behind. Food packets had to be air-dropped into districts to stave off hunger; some clamored on top of trucks to stay above the torrent, while others waded through neck-high waters, passing floating carcasses, to get home.

On a personal level, I was far less affected than most Mumbaikars (as residents of Mumbai are referred to) since I was on a field visit in the northwest state of Rajasthan most of last week.  My colleagues however were forced to spend 36 hours in the office, unable to get home to anxious family and friends. Cellphone networks were down, air, train and bus links completely shut. The city was brought to a complete standstill, perhaps giving us all pause to reflect on the frailty of our humanity and the fallacy of our priorities. We concentrate on earning more money, producing more efficiently, creating greater value, in an endless pursuit of what we have deemed to be success. In doing so, have we left behind the most basic learnings that humans of centuries ago have taught us? Learnings, for example, which focus on sustainable building, flood planning, and drainage systems? Is life so cheap that apartments, shops and offices must be built anywhere at any cost, for that is what constitutes development?

In the aftermath of the monsoons the fingers have dried out and started to point. It’s the municipal corporation, some say, they should have enforced existing city regulations. It’s the emergency services, others say, where were they when we needed them the most? But I say it’s all of us. We are the ones who want the new roads, shopping malls, luxurious flats and office complexes. We are the ones who put pressure on the government to let go of environmental regulations which curtail the city’s growth. We are all at fault for losing our place in the ecosystem that is our universe. As humans, we have an incredible tendency to move forward and forget that foundations our civilizations were built on. Perhaps mother nature is reminding us of the fundamental need to respect our surroundings and rethink our definition of progress.

Wow, I didn’t realize it had been almost a month since I had updated my blog, how time flies.  So, I’ll share my stories in sections.  Here’s the first installment…

The weekend of July 23rd

After the copycat attacks on Thursday, I was feeling an overwhelming urge to get out of the city for a weekend.  So, after dragging Parul to an Indian singles party on Friday night (which was surprisingly a lot of fun and yes, digits were exchanged, but we’ll get into that later) we decided to go to Nottingham on Saturday morning to visit Sonia, another friend from my Norway days.  It was my first trip to the English countryside and I was really looking forward to being away from the hustle and bustle of London for a bit.  We caught a train from St. Pancras, and made it up there in about 3 hours.  Within twenty minutes it felt like we were a million miles from the city and at the time, I didn’t really mind.

Nottingham reminds me of Stavanger.  It’s a relatively small town ( I suppose any town with a population of less that a half a million is considered small these days).  The town center is nice, and it doesn’t take long to walk from one end to the other, through the cobblestone streets.  We decided to have dinner at one of the local Indian restaurants, which was really good.  We made our way to a pub afterwards called Pitcher and Piano, which was situated in in an old converted church.  I was feeling a bit strange ordering a vodka and coke with a pulpit to my right, but I got over it as the night went on.  Blame it on the alcohol.  ;-)  We found a table to one side to sit and chat.  After about 30 minutes I thought we may leave given that everyone was a bit tired.  Of course, we then decided to hit the dance floor and that’s where we ended up staying until they kicked us out at closing time!  It helped that we ran into a bunch of guys who were there for a stag do (bachelor party) and ended up dancing the night away with them.  You would think we’d want to go home after that, nope, we walked around looking for another club and found one fairly quickly.  After finishing the night off there, we found a cabbie to take us home.  It’s a good thing he wasn’t one of those old stodgy types because we made him turn up the music and started dancing in the car and rolled down the windows to wave at random people walking by at 3AM.  Yes, I know, 4 thirtysomethings acting like teenagers.  Hey, you only live once!

The next day was the Nottingham Mela, which is an annual Indian festival with booths set up selling everything from religious texts, food, jewelry, clothes, and basically anything looking remotely ethnic.  Sonia was performing in the afternoon with her dance class.  She’s been studying kathak for the past several years, it’s one of the major classical Indian forms of dance that is by no means easy to learn!  Unfortunately the weather was horrible…windy, rainy, and cold.  Typical English weather but completely unsuitable for outdoor events!  The show went on anyway, and after their performance the dance teacher ended up pulling some of us from the audience onto the stage to dance.  That was definitely the fun part.  :-)  In the evening we made our way back to the train station to head back to London, but I felt rejuvenated, ready to face the city again. 

Some of you have been asking me how things have been going here in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks last Thursday.  It’s hard to say…some people have the opinion that this was bound to happen, it was just a matter of time.  Hell, we survived all the IRA bombings, we’ll get through this one.  There’s the British stiff upper lip coming into play.  Others though, aren’t as outwardly brave.  I’m one of them.  Yes, I was in the US during the September 11th attacks, but I wasn’t in New York, or D.C or anywhere near there.  This is different…I live here.  I commute on those trains.  This is my adopted new city.  This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen here! 

Do you think I get stressed out every time I get on a train now?  Yes, I do.  As do a lot of other people.  But how could they not?  It hasn’t even been a week yet, and you can’t go into a station without seeing the big warning posters with "Bomb Alert" emblazoned on them in 50pt red font.  And you can’t get on a train without the stationmaster saying "as a result of last Thursday’s incident, the following lines are still closed…"  Everyone is a bit a jumpy these days, but strangely, a bit more friendly.  Brits tend to be fairly guarded, and before last Thursday, it was almost guaranteed that you could get on the train and not even make eye contact with anyone.  Now, it seems a bit different.  We all look at eachother when we get on the train.  It’s that you look nervous, good, because I am too kind of look.  I’m sure it’s temporary but it does show a different side of people here, perhaps a more real side.  People are moving on…it’s life, it moves on whether or not you are ready for it. 

On Wednesday London found out that they won the Olympic bid, and the city was overjoyed.  London 2012 was splashed on the front cover of all the papers, everyone was talking about it and extremely pleased that our neighbor to the south, Paris, (with which there has always been a great rivalry), was the one that we beat.  I was at the office working on something when I heard someone shriek "We won we won!"  I turned to CNN and heard the great news.  There was a big party in Trafalgar Square and a hero’s welcome was waiting for the London Olympic bid committee on their return from Singapore where the decision was announced.  I had talked to a few friends about celebrating over the weekend.

I woke up on Thursday morning thinking it feels great to be a Londoner, the Olympics are coming!  Of course, I realized it wouldn’t be until 2012 but I was happy to be a resident when the news broke.  I got on the train at Earls Court as usual, and proceeded to read my Metro like everyone else on my journey to work.  It had the Olympic rings on the cover and articles about where the stadiums would be, etc. We were moving a bit slow I thought and when we stopped at Westminster it was almost 9am.  That’s usually the time I reach Tower Hill.  The conductor told us there had been a power surge at Tower Hill and we were stuck in a queue.  So we waited…and waited.  Then without warning from him, the alarms went off in the station, with the news to evacuate coming over the loudspeakers.  We just kind of looked at eachother and thought, ok, fine…there was no panic as we assumed it had something to do with the power surges.  As I was leaving the train I noticed a few people were hanging out probably thinking, oh it’s no big deal, we’ll wait until the alarms stop and the train starts again.  London Underground is a bit notorious for delays. 

I walked up the stairs and out of the station to a mass of people looking a bit lost and confused, wondering how they were going to get to their next destination….of course that included me.  I talked to a policeman about catching another train from a different station, and was told that the entire London Underground had been shut down.  Then I tried to hail a cab to no avail, they were all full.  So I walked up towards Trafalgar Square to try and catch a bus.  I was there for a good hour, as buses would come by, packed full of people,  able to take only a handful.  Then I noticed they would come by, and not stop at all…and I thought, what the hell is going on?  A bus driver coming the other direction stopped on the other side of the street and shouted out the window "All buses in Zone 1 have been told not to stop".  I thought, "What?  Why?"  I was very confused, now stranded and not having a clue what to do. 

I called the office and said I was running late, and started walking in that direction along the riverbank.  Along the way, I saw many police cars racing by, sirens blaring…something was going on.  I chucked my Metro into the trash and kept walking.  It took me an hour to get to work and it was 11am by the time I got to my desk.  One of my coworkers then told me there had been a few explosions on the trains, and my heart started to sink.  I turned on my computer, and watched in horror as the story unfolded on my screen as the news started to come in.  The ache in my feet was replaced by shock as I started reading the words "terrorist attack, several stations have been affected, people have died, a bus exploded, etc".  My immediate reaction was to look around and make sure everyone in the office had been accounted for.  Luckily, they had as ones that couldn’t make it in made their way back home safely.  I was getting frantic texts from my brother in India and frantically texting friends in town with just a simple "r u ok?".  As we started accounting for each other, we started feeling a bit relieved and very lucky to be alive!  A friend of mine was at King’s Cross station at that time the day before, and would have been there then but had family visiting and decided to come in to work late.  Another friend who usually goes via Edgware road was also running late and luckily couldn’t get anywhere near there.  There are so many stories of friends that could have been in the affected areas.  Aldgate station is a ten minute walk from my office…I took trains from there many times when I first moved to London as I was staying near the office at the time. 

At the office, we kept getting updates from corporate HR’s emergency response team, and started sharing our stories about how some of us were stranded in different places.    In the afternoon, I got another wave of frantic phone calls and emails as people in the States started waking up to the horror that was unfolding in London.  I was overwhelmed by all of it.  Then I couldn’t stop thinking what if that had been my train?  Or the station I was in?  Or the bus I could have gotten on?  When I heard what time the bombs went off, I felt chills as I knew I could have very easily been in that path of destruction.  I was feeling a mixture of fear, relief, sadness, and anger at the time.  As the day progressed, we started wondering how we were going to get home since the trains and buses on central London were all shut down.  I was looking at a two hour walk home and was lucky that someone in the office had a car and was going my way.  I got home that evening and was glued to the tv.  I was furious at whoever did this…if they intended to get the attention of the G8 leaders they accomplished their task, but why involve innocent people trying to get to work?  I fell asleep at close to midnight, my body and brain completely exhausted.

I called our office emergency helpline on Friday morning, hoping the offices would be closed, but of course they weren’t.  I timidly walked toward the train station, as my route to work was operating that morning.  I saw the cover of the Metro, which pictured a man walking along, with blood running down his face, and his left eye bandaged.  The caption next to it read "I was in the next carriage…and I’m so lucky to be alive".  It was almost enough to make me want to flee out of the station.  I didn’t though..instead I got on the train, paranoid, looking around for suspicious packages, and trying very hard not to look at the pictures in the papers everyone around me had.  I thought how can they read this stuff when they are on a train???  As we past Westminster station, I was relieved when we kept going.  I made it to Tower Hill, and made my way out of the station a bit quicker than I normally would, feeling a bit safer only when I emerged from the station onto the street. 

I now know that one of the trains hit was a Circle Line train, heading towards Aldgate.  That train, if it had kept going on that route, would have made it’s way to Tower Hill next and eventually crossed the path of the train I was on, heading in that direction. 

So my confidence in the London public tranport system is shot, but I’m sure I’ll get it back slowly.  I have it easy though.  I can’t imagine what it must be like for those families that haven’t heard from loved ones, or have loved ones that died or were seriously injured.  This is the kind of thing that reminds me just how lucky I am, and that surely, someone is watching over me….and I’m not going to take it for granted.  For everyone that has gotten in touch with me, made me laugh, or just said hey, just making sure you’re ok in the past couple of days, thank you, it means more to me than you know to hear from a friendly familiar voice or face.  It’s also a reminder to me that regardless of what life throws my way, my friends and family, no matter how far away, will be there to get me through it, and for that, I will always be grateful.