I’ve consciously let you rest a while this last year. Most of my life between your pages has been my ruminations on travel, with a short detour through my attempt at sustainability and its intersection with travel and home. Needless to say, there has been nothing on these fronts in this once-in-a-lifetime (I hope) pandemic phase. Also, thanks to Project Om which welcomed our newest little sustainable traveller (again, I hope) into the family, any little energy I might have for whatever little travel-at-home and individual-action-sustainability evaporated into the thin pandemic air. I know I’ll pick up the threads at some point, I just don’t know when.
I don’t have any smart analysis on travel and where we go from here. I’ll let the eloquent Cameron Hewitt talk about a new normal in Europe, and my guess is that this will be mirrored in most parts of the world soon.
In this phase, I’ve also learnt that individual action in the home is an intersection of myriad factors. The concept of convenience, time and energy are different for everyone, and those of the decision makers rule how the house lives. I handed over grocery shopping to my better half this last year, and enough said about plastic and packaging. My nemesis? Diapers and wet wipes. Gah, convenience.
We now move continents. I’ve loved living in Singapore (my journey chronicled here) and I’m grateful for all that it has offered and taught me. Although it doesn’t love me back enough (long story). It has been an interesting study in east meets west, and this land of eternal summer had me wrapped around its little finger. The one thing I’ll miss most, predictably, is the excellent public transport.
At any normal time, as it has in the past, such a move would have excited me to the endless possibilities of wandering around a new place we’d call home. Not so much now. With restricted travel and with all that I now know about the US and how its sustainability chain works (or does not), with the current covid situation there and an unvaccinated baby with us, I see before me an uphill road to bring these two dear vectors back into my life. Stick with me if you will, and we will discover this together.
The bright spot? I have two of the best boys in the world with me.
Until next time, here are sights from our temporary digs during our last week in Singapore.
What do you say about travel at a time like this? There’s nothing appropriate to say, is there?
There’s a lot to say about home, though. Only, I don’t know where to start.
Maybe I’ll start with how both travel and home are slowly merging into different ideas these last three years?
In 2017, I wondered about travel’s impact on environment and the local economy. In 2018, I tried to find a green purpose to travel. In 2019, I wrote a long article for SecondsGuru on green travel and also turned the spotlight homeward when a desire to travel with minimal impact began morphing into a desire to live with minimal impact.
And in these last three months of Singapore’s Covid-19 circuit breaker, everything travel and everything green has gone out the window. While I needn’t say a word about travel, here’s the green-at-home update. The most reliable recycling place is closed, I’ve resorted to packaged produce and groceries, and I’ve not been able to hand over my kitchen scraps for a friend’s garden compost.
Yet, there’s a flip side. I’ve discovered that I can make good food, keep plants alive and even sketch a half-decent picture. Symphonies, world-class plays, ballet and broadway shows are a YouTube click away.
A sense of loss, a sense of gain.
Outside my insular selfish observations, countries around the world are trying to figure out themselves and their leaders. Stellar examples of sensitive leadership and communities reaching out to fellow citizens is heartening. Crazy autocrats and heart-wrenching racism are finally being seen for what they really are.
A sense of joy, a sense of pain.
Normal will come, but it could take a while. And for those in pain, hopefully in a newer, better way. I’m only one person, all I can do is hope.
Singapore slowly opens up this weekend, as it enters phase 2 of reopening, aptly named Safe Transition. While I figure out how this new found love of staying at home plays into a desire to go snooping around outside again, I’ll let this space rest a bit.
Stay safe, and travel safe when the borders open up.
Third stop on the sabbatical: United States Of America A people and places pilgrimage
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
– THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER, USA NATIONAL ANTHEM
I didn’t know what to expect from this trip, I really didn’t. All I knew is that I HAD to answer a calling to visit, after five and some years of leaving. A calling to dredge up eight years of places and people from when I lived there, to give the mix another stir and to see what surfaces. Before I set about upending a few vectors in my life, it was time to heed this calling.
I spent four weeks making my way from east to west across four regions, staying with family and friends and soaking in their kindness, hospitality and love. To walk and gawk the streets of New York City and Tempe and Portland, to hug and hold friends and family, this was what the whole month was all about.
Join me, on what I’d like to call a symphonic journey.
East Coast: New York City NY
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray Right through the very heart of it New York, New York!
– “NEW YORK, NEW YORK” BY FRANK SINATRA
From finding my hostel after getting off the subway at 2am, to wandering the city without navigation the next day, there’s a certain NYC frequency that I seem to tune into. It was fascinating to watch both the city and my reaction to it on this fourth visit, the headiness of a youthful first crush had morphed into a mellow joy of just soaking in the familiarity. I went looking for both old and new sights, creating a montage that only left me wanting more.
New York City, the old and …
… the new
East Coast: Hartford CT ; East Brunswick NJ ; Lancashire PA; Princeton NJ
Tucked into this corner of the country were closest family, women I looked up to and their feisty, intelligent, kind little girls. Throw into this mix another two girl friends I hadn’t seen in years and their vastly different life stories that I caught up with, and I had myself a bunch of lessons to ponder on the rest of the trip.
Midwest: St.Louis MO ; Madison WI ; Chicago IL ; Naperville IL
Bet your bottom dollar you lose the blues in Chicago, Chicago!
– “CHICAGO” BY FRANK SINATRA
The midwest turned out to be a mix of family I hadn’t see in eons and friends I felt like I just saw yesterday. It was a train and bus blitz to cover four cities in three days with endless cornfields for company, but I’ve always been one to love looking outside a window. After wondering if I’ll ever see snow on this trip, there was 3 inches on the ground in Madison, below freezing temps in Chicago and a fresh shower the morning I left Naperville! I never thought I’d call cold and snow delicious, but living at the equator does that to you.
Southwest: San Antonio TX
After walking all around little cities in Switzerland and Spain for three weeks, my legs had ground to a halt once I entered the US (well, after the day in NYC). So I was mighty grateful to Rachel who rescued me from car country in San Antonio. The cold front that I missed in the midwest caught up with me (in all places) in Texas, and usually sunny November days turned into chilly, cloud covered ones filled with long walks with Rachel and long talks with a favourite uncle. I could feel my legs again!
Endless walks, Dominion sub-division
Southwest: Scottsdale AZ
She needs wide open spaces, room to make her big mistakes, She needs new faces, she knows the high stakes.
– “WIDE OPEN SPACES” BY DIXIE CHICKS
Where do I even begin to describe this feeling? As I zipped on a wide open AZ-101, under crystal clear blue skies, past soft desert browns and tall saguaros, towards a brilliant desert sunset? Waves of fond memories lifted my heart in elation, grateful for a chance to be back, to look back. I raced around my uncle and aunt’s suburban mansion, squealing how nothing had changed in decade (well, except a kitchen in the middle of a remodel!). Settling into the couch at the end of the day shooting the breeze with them, I was intensely aware of how time had changed me, from the clueless young girl struggling through school a decade ago to a young woman contemplating major life changes now. Dixie Chicks said it best: wide open spaces to make my big mistakes with new faces and high stakes, a young girl’s dream in a place out west. You’re always, always special, Arizona.
Familiar sights!
Southwest: Tempe AZ
Who doesn’t know what I’m talking about, Who’s never left home, who’s never struck out, To find a dream and a life of their own, A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone.
Many precede and many will follow, A young girl’s dreams no longer hollow, It takes the shape of a place out west, But what it holds for her, she hasn’t yet guessed!
– “WIDE OPEN SPACES” BY DIXIE CHICKS
First times away from home and hearth are defining moments, and this university town holds most of those for me. Wide open spaces, but of the mind. It would take a tome to recount lessons from my two years here at Arizona State University, and it almost wrote itself as I sat in the unchanged library and nearly cried. Was it nostalgia for innocence lost? Was it a feeling of growing up, of knowing so much more and yet looking back and being kind to one’s younger self? Was it a craving for more such dramatic life challenges? Was it a pep talk to go back into the real world and draw from lessons learnt here and be unafraid? It was a heady, lethal mix of it all.
In the one day that I spent at Tempe, I set out on a pilgrimage route that covered multiple places from my life here, all set on one single arterial road. I have shaky photos from everywhere which are squeal-worthy only with my roommates from this era, so only this one will stay up here for a memory.
“Where is she? She isn’t home in time for dinner.” “Oh, she’s at Noble!”
West Coast: Hillsboro OR ; Portland OR ; Lake Oswego OR
Just when I thought our chance had passed, You go and save the best for last!
– “SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST” BY VANESSA WILLIAMS
Dear Pacific Northwest, as soon as I got off the flight and saw the familiar blue checked airport carpet (it hasn’t changed!), I knew I was home. I knew exactly where to look for Mt.Hood and yelled in delight when I saw it, and I knew exactly where my cousin will exit five different freeways to get us home.
But wait. This was home. It’s not anymore.
I waltzed into apartments where I lived and places I worked and stores I used to shop at. It was surreal how little every one of these had changed. I almost went looking for my dark blue Honda Civic to drive back home.
But wait, these aren’t where I live, work and shop anymore.
I met colleagues and friends and didn’t miss a beat as we picked up from where we left off five plus years ago, over meals they lovingly whisked up.
Now these are definitely here to stay. Across time and countries and life stages.
Spending three days in Hillsboro and Portland was a surreal experience. Part of my brain settled in comfortably from the get go, like how one would at home. And every so often, the other part would gently remind me that this was not home. Through this strangely pleasant dichotomy (no, I still can’t explain why it was pleasant), I plotted and savoured a sampling of six wonderful years here. I’m so, so glad I came back to give this little part of the world a warm, loving, grateful hug!
Hillsboro, home and work and life that used to be
Hillsboro, home and work and life that used to be
Downtown Portland, summer and winter comfort corners
Downtown Portland, summer and winter comfort corners
Lake Oswego was a southern suburb I had hardly paid any attention to. And this time I got to poke around for a day, thanks to another cousin who lived here.
Lake Oswego
West Coast: Olympic National Park WA
I am a mountaineer in the hills and highlands!
– “HELLO SEATTLE” BY OWL CITY
Oh my sweet god, how I’d forgotten how a road trip to a national park feels like! A knot in my stomach when we left at 8pm on a 5-hour journey to Olympic National Park unwound to a soaring feeling of gratefulness as we stood on Hurricane Ridge the next day. Knowing how much I love hiking, my two cousins made sure we poked into at least one wilderness in my really short time with them. As we pulled out of our cabin in the woods after just a day, I ran into one of those “this vacation needs to be longer!” moments. Dear Pacific Northwest, if there’s ever a next time, there will be more time!
Olympic National Park
West Coast: Seattle WA ; Bay Area CA
Hello Seattle, I am the crescent moon, shining down on your face.
– “HELLO SEATTLE” BY OWL CITY
I remember the day my BFF moved to Seattle. The accordion of life which had taken us apart and brought us together many times over continued three years later when I moved out of Portland, but that’s the thing about BFFs. In the (surprisingly rainless) two days I spent here, no topic was off the table, no advice was unsought. Between warm hugs, long talks and famous Asian meals, my soul was restored and life issues clarified.
If you’re going to San Francisco, you’re going to meet some gentle people there.
– “SAN FRANCISCO” BY SCOTT MCKENZIE
Most all friends I knew in the Bay Area were Portland runaways, the lure of the bay stole them in waves. Between meeting them all and sneaking in other short visits, all I remember about one day walking the streets of San Francisco was drooling in the aisles of Whole Foods. One of the most unique downtown memories of this trip!
Thoughts From The Road
The story of stuff
With just a couple of exceptions, the story of stuff seems to have woven itself into the story of everyone’s life. Whether it was a 900 sqft apartment or a 2000 sqft suburban mansion, whether one had lived there for a year or twenty, whether there were kids in the house or not … it was everywhere. I was a hoarder when I lived here a decade ago, but three subsequent moves and the realisation of consumption habits has made me terrified of … stuff.
Of friends…
Girl friends! How I miss them all! There’s something about a heart-to- heart with sisters, sisters-in-law, aunts, BFFs, ex-roommates and colleagues-turned-dear-friends. What’s app doesn’t hold a candle to a live session!
Having said that, I miss the rest of my varied bunch of friends too. An absolutely lovely bunch of people now geographically too far apart to have another weekend out at a beach house, but we all live in hope of one!
feminism …
I also watched families with young kids, and compared the setup to an Asian one. The biggest (privileged world) difference was that there is a wide social understanding of paternal responsibilities in the west, empowering men to publicly ask for time and help to parent. At many levels, freeing women from a societal caregiver-only role intersects with freeing men from a provider-only one. The feminism dream I harboured for years is really not entirely in my hands at all.
… and families
Kids! I spent time with kids I hadn’t seen in a long time and kids I hadn’t met at all. I quite surprised myself by being the patient, fun aunt. Quite a revelation.
An attempt at conscious travel
This trip was not entirely free of single-use, thanks to multiple trips on trains and busses.
This is an appropriate place to bring up the cars factor. Driving was one thing I sorely missed after I left the US, making sure to drive at least once on this trip at ASU, and being on a couple of road trips on either coast. But then, in my current green goddess avatar, I now question the wisdom of cars being the sole means to get around these crazy huge distances. What a colossal waste of fossil fuels! It’s aggravating to see that there’s no robust inter-country fast public transport in place, considering that there’s no dearth of tech know-how for a bullet train. What I loved once is now a source of angst, and this cognitive dissonance is taking a while to resolve.
Soon after we got married, B and decided that our fifth anniversary should be celebrated someplace nice, keeping the exact place open to evolving tastes and interests. As we hit that milestone last year, we unanimously picked Europe, and almost unanimously chose southern Spain. The architectural and cultural clash between the 7th century Moors and their Christian conquistadors in the 1400s, the legend of the infamous Christopher Columbus and the strains of flamboyant flamenco were calling out from somewhere in our subconscious even before we turned a single page of our guidebooks. It was just meant to be.
Eight days. A roller coaster eight days wandering the towns on foot and in busses and trains, packing in things of all different flavours. From cathedrals and mosques to palaces, world-class art and huge public parks, we lost ourselves in everything old town Espana. She delivered, and how! For once, no life changing insights, no pondering about travel and its impact on the world. Just sheer wonder at the magnificent history and architecture and art that Western Europe is steeped in. It’s mind boggling.
Royal Palace (Madrid) – Europe’s third greatest palace
I really tried hard to keep track of the Philips and Charleses who built this 2,800 room opulence from a wooden fortress over a few hundred years, but I gave up. There was just too much gawking to do. The main royal staircase had shallow steps just to slow us down and give us just enough balance to crane our neck every-which-way it wanted to spin. A handful of these zillion rooms are open to the public and a smaller subset is open for photos. So in my memory and diary (and my Rick Steves guidebook) will these couple of hours stay, where I pretended I was a stately princess wandering around nonchalantly. Erm, nope. Just too much gawking for nonchalance.
Just a little sample of the Royal Palace, Madrid
Seville Cathedral (Seville) – The largest Gothic cathedral in the world, and the third largest overall
I love chapels, churches and cathedrals of all kinds. Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, modern steel, local parish, all kinds. The bigger the better, I have a thing for size. Shh, don’t tell the Moors but this cathedral topped my anticipation list. And what a wonder it turned out to be. Superlatives are normal here. See for yourself.
The largest altarpiece in the world tells the story of Jesus in 24 handmade panels that soar to a lofty ceiling.
The largest single pearl in the world is the body of an angel on the Spanish Crown.
The Giralda tower which has a ramp instead of steps because it used to be a minaret and a muezzin used to use a donkey to climb it for his call to prayer.
And the controversial Christopher Columbus lies here, held aloft by knights from Leon, Castille, Aragon and Navarre. He travelled a lot even after he died, finally coming to rest at home.
Royal Alcazar (Seville) – The best example of Mujedar architecture in the world
When the Christian conquistadors took over Seville in the 1200s, they recruited local Muslim artisans to build them a palace. What resulted is the Mujedar architecture, which is Islamic style with Christian elements like kings, shells and leaves which are not allowed in Islamic art. How did the artists feel about this? Nobody knows. I guess when your survival is on the line, you don’t pick idealogical battles anymore.
Real Alcazar, Seville
Real Alcazar, Seville
Mezquita (Cordoba) – A towering cathedral tucked inside a sprawling mosque
I’ve never seen something like this before, and as much as I read about it, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Waves of Islamic rulers from 900 A.D. crafted Cordoba into a cultural capital in Spain, far ahead of the rest of Europe clawing its way out of the Dark Ages. Muslims, Jews and Christians coexisted peacefully through the usual infighting, up-seating of the capital by Seville and Granada, and the eventual fall of southern Spain to the Christian rulers. What remains is a higgeldy-piggeldy old town with famous synagogues and Jewish quarters, and this unique behemoth – a towering cathedral tucked inside a sprawling mosque.
The Mihrab, natural acoustics for the muezzin’s prayers
Oh ye soaring, but well hidden cathedral! What a wonder you turned out to be!
Alhambra (Granada) – The red castle
“Then, we’ll go to Granada every autumn to indulge a little bit…” Juan Ramón Jimenez
Indulge might just be the word I’m looking for. For what else do you call six straight hours wandering the Alhambra’s grounds, and then some more to climb through the streets of Albaycin to settle down at a viewpoint to see it in all its glory at dusk and after? While wandering through the forts, palaces and stunning gardens of the Alhambra was an absolute delight, my heart has been stolen by the view from the San Nicolas viewpoint at the sunset golden hour and after. This tops my list of most romantic moments, ever.
Alcazaba Fort
The Ambassador’s Hall – where the last Moorish king Bobadil surrendered, and where Queen Isabella said “si senor” to Columbus’s pitch to travel the seas!
Yinan-al-‘Arif summer gardens. It’s spelt “Genaralife” but that kinds kills the sound, don’t you think?!
The lit up Alhambra from Albaycin’s San Nicolas viewpoint!
El Tajo Gorge (Ronda)
We snuck in a day trip to this little “white town” between Seville and Granada, and were well rewarded with stunning gorge views, long walks to viewpoints and perfect blue skies.
El Tajo Gorge
Museums, Parks, Old Towns, Flamenco!
Museums
(no photos allowed inside both)
Prado blew us away with its fine European collection, with Bosch, Velasquez and El Greco highlights. My favourite though, was Francisco Goya’s work. From colourful stately portraits in his heyday, we walked straight into dark and scary ones of his depression phase. What a stunning study of how mental health affects art.
The Reina Sofia confused us with its modern art, except Picasso’s civil war masterpiece Guernica. It is scarier and more hard-hitting in real life, an ode to “there’s really no point of war”.
Parks
The fun thing about both urban parks we went to was how architectural behemoths sprung up in the middle as though it was the natural park thing to do. Whoosh, there goes the breath that was just starting to return!
El Retiro Park, Madrid
Plaza de Espana, Seville
Old Towns
While we stayed within old towns everywhere, the fact that we walked to and from the many stations reminded us each time that a greater metro was out there somewhere very close. For another day, Espana.
My favourite old town is Seville, hands down. Adorable hidden plazas, strong scent of jasmine as we walked through them and ducking through the narrow kissing lanes were an absolute delight.
Plaza de Dona Elvira, Seville
Finally, flamenco!
Improv is the essence of flamenco, and we found one such in the heart of Seville. Many, many performances have to be watched before one gets it, but for now we’ll take one magical night, thank you very much!
Because I left to the US right after this trip and filled my life with people for the next month, I didn’t find enough brain space to process what we saw immediately after. I’m doing that now, and as I collate the pictures and reread my diary (yes, I have many), I can only be extremely grateful for the magnificent era that’s been preserved in stone (literally) for all of us to see.
An attempt at conscious travel
I gave up on trying to avoid disposables, for two reasons. B’s keto diet specifications, and insanely early morning trains which meant Mc.D coffee and croissants with two backpacks each which was enough excuse not to fish out the BYO.
But one thing I’d like to mention is the bull fighting which we took a stand against. If it was Tomatina season, we’d have boycotted that too. Sure, these are an integral part of Spanish culture, but they lie on the other side of the line which we draw when we want to experience new things. There are aspects of culture which were relevant centuries ago but may have outlived their significance, and that is a line we all draw in our own way. We walked past every bull fighting arena we saw, even world famous ones, without a second glance.
Book read on the trip: Rick Steves “Spain”, and all the history that came with it.
Photos courtesy: B … thank you for the trip, the wonderfulmemories and the gorgeous photos.
Have you ever heard of a trip to Switzerland without visiting the Alps?
Well, welcome to one!
Europe to me has always meant history and art ensconced deceptively in either a sleepy old village or a glitzy world city, and the towering Alps that cuts across eight countries. I’ve bought layman art history books and beautiful coffee table books that have reinforced this. Which is why I surprised myself when I barely planned these six days in Switzerland and wiped off the Alps from my itinerary simply because B hasn’t been there yet. Well, that’s a good comfort zone shift to start with, one of the goals of this sabbatical.
Chocolate
Maison Callier at Broc
Oh sweet God! Erm, literally. There’s nothing, I repeat, nothing like Swiss chocolate. Belgian is great, but different. I admit I’m utterly spoilt for good chocolate after binging on the Swiss ones. It’s an expensive and difficult-to-source bar that I have just raised in my life. Callier was the first chap to add real milk to the dark and bitter brew that the Europeans brought back from South America. Till date, Callier adds real milk, and it is the only milk chocolate I drool over in my dark chocolate world. A visit here was a pilgrimage, and the free sampling was a feast. I wanted to kneel in gratitude but I was floating on a sugar high.
Cheese
La Maison du Gruyere at Gruyere
Never a cheese fan all my life, I had a newfound interest in this culinary item thanks to B’s keto diet. I learnt to use it and appreciate its smelliness to a certain extent. And then, just like that, I was in the capital of cheese-land! Gruyere’s old town was choc-a-bloc with cheesy restaurants, but once we skirted around to the chateaux grounds, the rolling green landscape opened up to frame trademark Switzerland views. Calm goats, quiet cows and verdant green. My eyes and heart couldn’t get enough of it all, both here and on our numerous train and bus rides. Skipping the factory, we headed straight to a small cheesy snack which was probably the best thing to do there after ogling at the landscape.
Cities
Geneva, Montreux, Lausanne, Bern, Lucerne, Zurich
Geneva is 40% expats, and the other cities are tourist havens. Which means I was mostly wandering around amidst foreigners except when I was trying out my French and German at the stores. Midway through the trip, Bonsoir seamlessly turned into Gruezi, Merci gave way without a fight to Danke and I was looking for a Bahnhof instead of a Gare.It’s the most confused I’ve been in a while.
Old Towns
While I thought “old towns” were, well, old, these cities lay before me a veritable variety.
Geneva, restored but still has local merchants
Lausanne, glitzy and modern, only the hilly roads give it a certain charm
Bern, by far my favourite! A uniquely preserved ode to green sandstone.
Lucerne, discovering wall murals was a delight!
Zurich’s Neiderdorf, delightful nightlife and posh local merchants. A mix of old and new that I found intriguing.
Cathedrals
Cathedral, thy name is Europe! Never, ever fails to disappoint me.
A city needs of have some water, yeah? Lakes abound in this pretty little country and promenades were my best friends. I skipped cruises to just walk randomly and here are the results.
Lake Geneva, from the Geneva side
Lake Geneva, sunset from Montreux
River Aare, Bern
Lake Lucerne, Lucerne
Lake Zurich, Zurich
Other Sights
Geneva – United Nations, Broken Chair – Built to create awareness about mine victims
Bern – Bern’s Fountains
Bern, Gurten Hill – A city hill with fabulous views. I went twice :)
Luzerne – Chapel Bridge – Pretty as a picture
Zurich – Lidenhof Hill
Special mention: Geneva – CERN
Do you remember learning about protons, electrons and neutrons as a kid? Did you also know that they can be further split into tinier particles? I did not! Why did they not teach us this in school?! I would think we process this better as children, because wrapping my head around this now seems impossible. It seems like magic. Scientists name a zillion particles and keep finding new ones in the world’s largest particle accelerator, the Large Hadron Collider, a 27km ring that sits underground at CERN in Geneva. They last for sheer microseconds and cement their place in science. And I’m supposed to process all that?! What is this but a layman’s faith in science?! A blind faith with no understanding at all?! And where have I heard this one before? Oh yeah, religion. I absolutely loved CERN’s two free museums. I gave up the LHC tour to head to Lausanne for the cathedral (yeah I see the irony in this too), but even these two little museums filled my heart with awe, wonder and joy.
LHC at CERN!
Adopting an anthem of “eat and walk and gawk”, I traded in factory visits for cheese and chocolate tastings, and museums for a walk in the old towns. And I’m mighty glad I did. Switzerland is definitely about the outdoors.
Both B and I have never seen the Alps, and that’s the way it will stay till we find out when we can.
An attempt at conscious travel
While the first three days in Geneva were plastic free thanks to @mitokondrion, I ended up living on supermarket food for the rest of the trip.
Trip inspiration, kind host in Geneva, salad chef sans comparer, enthusiastic partner-in-crime through the chocolate and cheese, source of a few photos without asking her, and role model sister-in-law: @mitokondrion
Five years ago, I took my first two month sabbatical when I moved countries, jobs and phase of life all at the same time. It felt luscious, light and liberating. I was looking forward more than looking back, optimistic more than pessimistic, excited more than nervous. Ah, youth.
In the five years since, I’ve grown more cautious, pessimistic and fearful about life’s big and small things. I’ve forgotten how to handle uncertainty well, forgotten to adapt, forgotten to even grow and change. All for good reason, a long adulting story for another day. But as much as I tried to justify status-quo to myself, my infinitely better better-half reminded me that challenge and change and people and relationships are good for you. At seventy, apparently that’s what you’ll look back at. Knowing how I’m challenged at looking even a few years ahead, I’m going to go ahead and take his advice (and well researched wisdom of the world here and here) on this point.
This time around, I’m going to try and change two out of the three vectors that I changed before. Hopefully, location remains the same. Job and phase of life are getting a kick in the butt. One without thinking, the other with. And that means, another transition phase, another sabbatical. Knowing what would make life changes bearable for me, B handed me an excel and a map, and said “go”. Only, I really wish he was coming too.
I spent almost all of the last two months planning and prepping for the next two months off. Waves of panic came and went. But it needs to be endured, at least to convince myself that nothing is the end of the world as I imagine it to be. The difference from the last time is that I’ll be coming back to the same place I leave, I have every single segment planned out, and I’ll be seeing a LOT of family and friends. Which are all new challenges in themselves, especially since I don’t have youth on my side like last time :) Ah, what worldly wisdom can do to you.
I wonder how things will turn out five years from now. Heck, even five months from now. As I try to cultivate a healthy tolerance of uncertainty, I’m pretty sure of one thing. I’d regret it if I didn’t take this sabbatical at this transition point. And for the privileged opportunity to take an unconventional step, I can’t be grateful enough to the fabulous family who didn’t bat an eyelid at it at all (and who handed me a map instead!).
Stay tuned, I hope I keep this space updated.
*sabbatical: usually used to refer to paid leave for employees, but here I take poetic license to use it to mean unpaid transition time.
Current itinerary: Bangalore, Switzerland, Spain, USA
I think I can finally say it out loud here, my travel tastes are changing.
We’re mid-way into a four day long weekend and all I did was look forward to try out cycling in town, host family and do a few things together with B now that he’s finally home a bit from his insane work trips. Of course, me being me, we had a planner and all that, because you know, moods sometimes threaten to thwart the best intentions unless we have a calendar ;)
When I don’t have a travel blog for a few months, I usually write about my latest travel thoughts. This time though, I figured I’d document a journey of a different kind – a year of learning about the zero waste movement and how one can try a few things on a small scale. This journey started with my thoughts about conscious travel and has now taken priority in my mind as I struggle to find meaning in vacations that are not just the relaxing kind.
“Stuff” in our lives has two aspects. What comes in and how it’s made. What goes out and how it’s disposed. While “a journey towards zero waste” might sound like it’s all about the disposal, much of it has to do with how and why we acquire things as well. So I’ll split this journey into two, terming it inputs and outputs to amuse my inner engineer (I know she’s there somewhere, although I’ve lost sight of her for a while now).
Inputs:
I’ve disliked shopping as far as I can remember, buying mostly essentials with the occasional fling purchase here and there. Thinking about what and how I buy other things in my life has changed my shopping habits, sometimes taking me beyond a convenient distance to hunt them down.
I’m still experimenting in the area of alternatives to plastic items. Apart from reusable cutlery and bags, other items like toothbrushes and bar shampoos haven’t worked for me at all. I’ve decided that it’s worth it to look for alternatives for items I use frequently (like takeaway) and not worry too much about things I replace only once in a few months (like toothbrushes).
Outputs:
Although I was a hoarder till three years ago, I’ve always looked for outlets to sell, donate and recycle whatever little I was discarding instead of sending it to the trash. It seems to me now that I’ve had an instinct to leave a minimal footprint, even with my hoarded possessions which were almost always neatly stacked and often inventoried.
The recycle aspect expanded my brain space this last year, as I added tetra-packs, aerosols, pens and bulbs to the regular list of recyclables (paper, plastic, glass, metal). I watched China raised the bar on the type of plastic they accept for recycling, throwing the entire recycling supply chain into a frenzy all around the world because they were the largest acceptor. Horror stories surfaced of illegal recyclers in Malaysia, Thailand and Vietnam accepting shipments of plastic and then unsafely burning those that could not be recycled. Pasir Gudang right across the border being one such example. Singapore’s biggest online environment groups began to debate if it was better to send plastic to be recycled unsafely, or if it was better to send it to our waste-to-energy (WTE) plants where it burns clean without any residue.
My choice? I send whatever I can to be reused at a creative school and let them send it to trash at its end-of-life. The rest I just trash unless it is a high quality, obviously recycled resin type like cleaning liquid bottles and takeaway boxes.
Blue recycle bins exist on all properties but get so contaminated that only 2% of items are recycled and rest are sent to trash. Someone with good intentions is thwarted by someone who aspirationally recycles without knowing how bad contamination can be. I now lug all my recyclables to a godsend, Tzu Chi, where volunteers sort it all before sending it to the recyclers and avoid this layer of contamination.
Country Conundrums:
A large part of this journey also depends on how the city/state/country one lives in manages both consumption and waste.
Inputs: Singapore is quite heavy on plastic packaging for practically anything, with cashiers and hawker stalls reaching for plastic so fast that it’s quite difficult to thwart when you’re carrying your own reusables. I’ve become quite a polite ninja over the year, learning exactly what and how to say at various types of places. As an adult, nothing has taught me to smile and be nice as this journey has!
Outputs: Singapore incinerates it’s waste for energy at four WTE plants that provide 2% of the nation’s electricity, with the resulting ash sent to Semakau landfill and the air cleaned to WHO standards. Semakau is a man made offshore landfill covered with … wait for it … mangrove trees, corals and solar panels. Yes, it’s true. Look it up, maybe they’ve added more! Sadly, Semakau is expected to fill up a full 15 years before its projected end date, indicating the magnitude of the waste creation problem in the country.
Countries like India mostly use landfills and are only now looking at WTE plants. Countries like USA have both landfills and WTEs. The Nordic countries incentivise the heck out of their citizens to recycle across categories. And Taiwan has aced the game in Asia with recycling trucks that play music and apps that announce their arrival in neighbourhoods. China will soon follow, with penalties for incorrect recycling. It’s a joy to read these various journeys across the globe, while trying not to be disheartened that Singapore refuses to even ban plastic bags. Oh well.
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As I buckle down at home this year with at least four months between big trips (this year’s theme seems to be “think big!”), I’ve found an outlet for both physical and mental journeys on this path of reducing consumption and waste generation. Events, talks and volunteer opportunities have fed into this journey at many points, helping me learn and implement with enough time spent at home to explore my options. What started as a desire to travel with low impact has now translated into a desire to live with low impact. And that, dear diary, is my ode of gratitude to travel.
Ok, I have finally met my match in misplaced expectations. Maybe it was because of very last minute prep for this trip, or maybe it is finally a spotlight on how my travel tastes are changing, I know not. But Kyoto left me very, very konfused.
Every since I heard of a Japanese temple town with a history of clergy, samurai and emperors in the same breath, I painted a picture of intrigue in my head. One that had the three pillars of society holed up in their respective temples, castles and palaces plotting their next move sitting on tatami mats and sipping green tea (yes, my head is a funny place). I missed an important pillar that’s not mentioned much when one reads about Kyoto as a tourist – the regular people and how they lived through these eras. So in my mind, Kyoto was a quaint town of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines with no one giving them any life at all.
Krowds
And what life they came to at 9am every morning when the temples opened for business! Hoards of people swarmed the streets leading to major temples and bus loads of Japanese school children tumbled into their midst. Finding a temple/zen rock garden/bamboo grove amidst the sea of heads became an art by itself, one that I was not prepared to excel in. Both mind and body rebelled. Thankfully, the Kyoto Imperial Palace salvaged our first day. HUGE grounds, barely any people, and magnificent structures that we could only see from afar.
Kyoto Imperial Palace
We did some emergency research on how to beat the crowds (duh, so much gold on this if I had known where to look before coming), and we called into action our weekday powers of waking up early. It was a no brainer to use this golden hour for Fushimi-Inari Taisha, since there was a Mt.Inari that could be scaled along with the epic Senbon Tori gates. Three hours through the tori and pouring rain to the compact top of Mt.Inari and back was exactly what our souls needed.
Fushimi-Inari Taisha’s Senbon Tori Gates
Summit shrines, Mt.Inari
We also used a couple of hours in that afternoon to walk around Northern Higashiyama to a few places that no one wanted to see. A tiny Shinto shrine, a grey mossy tori that framed an emperor’s mausoleum and a massive complex of Buddhist temples where all we wanted to do was sit in the Amitabha Buddha’s empty hall. THIS. This is the image of Kyoto I want to carry in my head. This is the image I want to remember when I want to like Kyoto.
Chion-In
I should’ve stopped here and kept this as my last image of Kyoto. Instead, I fell prey to one last big sight and mistakenly believed that the hour before closing would be bearable. Who was I kidding?! Our last sight, the magnificent Kiyomizu-dera and the wonderful Ninnen-zaka and Sannen-zaka streets leading here, was a weekend street market. We scurried out as soon as we scurried in.
Sannen-zaka, the approach road to the magnificent Kiyomizu-dera
No Krowds
The other big draw of Kyoto is Gion, the geisha district and its colourful history. I expected this to be packed with people and cameras, but then, I got whacked again. I spent all three evenings walking different sections here, always expecting crowds. Hanami-koji-dori had a few lazy strollers, the backstreets were just spooky after most places closed super early, and the “prettiest street in Asia” Shirakawa-dori along a canal lined with local style restaurants was very pretty yes, but deserted. So konfusing.
Deserted streets of Gion
Kan Kyoto Kall Again?!
It’s possible to love Kyoto. I really believe it is. As beautiful as the minor temples are, the big sights are crowded because they are stunning too. All I need is time … the luxury to stay many days so that I can use a few golden hours well. There are so many mountains surrounding Kyoto, surely there must be some trekking to do the rest of the day? Another way is to be ok with the crowds and focus on the object of my affection, which I really used to be good at till now. But it looks like that ship has sailed, at least in Asia. I might still be ok with crowds in Europe (let’s test this soon?), but here I seem to be done.
Kinkakuji, The Golden Temple. Our first and most crowded sight. Magnificent but one can’t enter it, and hence the serenity in the photos.
Shinkansen
My first ever high speed train journey, from Kyoto to Hiroshima, reaching 280kmph. Fabulous, just fabulous. The first time is always a charm.
Nozumi!
The Hiroshima Horror
can we forget that flash? suddenly 30,000 in the streets disappeared
in the crushed depths of darkness the shrieks of 50,000 died out
By: TŌGE Sankichi, translated by Karen Thornber
I’m lost for words here. A memorial’s role is to be so well done that people remember its object for a long time, and a museum’s purpose is to tell a story well using as many senses as possible. Hiroshima scores on both fronts. The many memorials in the peace park and the haunting A-bomb dome left standing speak volumes with just a few lines of description. From telling the story of what exactly happened on the Pacific Front’s D-Day to detailing the many facets of its chilling effects on everyday citizens, the museum moved us on many different vectors. Yes, a country does not tell the story of its own atrocities and bad decisions (there’s no mention of Japanese aggression in the area), but that I’ve learnt already in Asia.
How powerless we are to the decisions of a few that we have voted to power. Are we still? Or do we con ourselves that the power is with the people?
Atomic Bomb Dome
Cenotaph, lined up with the other memorials
Moving paintings by survivors collected by the city. Therapy in expression.
Views from the Hiroshima Castle – a city recovers
Food
Yes, I found vegetarian ramen. But my heart lies with T’s Tan Tan in Tokyo. I also found Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki, but I think they forgot the salt. Or maybe the taste lies in the pork and squid sauce that’s out of bounds for us. I don’t know. For more trials, read on.
An attempt at conscious travel
I failed quite miserably this time on multiple fronts.
I forgot to take my reusables a couple of times and paid the price. I also discovered oshibori, the wet tissues in plastic covers handed out at the start of every meal which are so easy to unconsciously tear apart and mindlessly use (these used to be actual warm towels till recently). Four pairs of disposable chopsticks, many oshibori, a disposable apron at a ramen meal to please B who rarely wants a photo, a straw, coffee and chips cups at a snack, and meal casualties on trains and planes.
We paid a pretty penny for a shojun-ryuri meal at Tenryu-ji Temple’s Shigetsu, and while I did expect the meal flavours to be hit or miss, I was extremely disappointed that they used disposable chopsticks in plastic covers. I mean, really? The first and probably last time I will ever splurge on a speciality meal when there’s enough novelty going on in other areas on a trip.
Shigetsu’s shojin-ryori
I created more food waste than I usually do too. Convenience store ume onigiri (pickled plum rice in seaweed) and inari sushi (rice in deep fried tofu pockets) came highly touted in every vegetarian “emergency food” guide. I wasn’t in ANY emergency but just bought them for novelty, only to realise the hard way that the “emergency” part is true :( Oh, and novelty frozen sake in a glass tumbler that turned out to be so awful that I had to stop half way. I almost didn’t finish a very average gelato as well, but thankfully the cone was fresh enough to plow through. Not my trip for gustatory delights, looks like.
“Wonder how these stars look like right now”, B said, as he gazed up at the night sky. It startled me like nothing had in a while.
“You’re right”, I agreed. Nothing is really as it seems, I thought.
We were sprawled out on an empty rooftop bar, perfect psychedelic music thumping softly from a hidden speaker in the neatly manicured bushes at the edge. The bar lights were turned off at our request. Ships twinkled in the distance on a pitch black Andaman Sea, yet they didn’t hold a candle to the object of our attention this night – the night sky.
I finally know the meaning of a beach resort. In the middle of a searing hot off-season on Thailand’s Andaman coast, I really do. After years of wondering why people revisit places and want to do nothing on any trip, I spent an entire weekend doing both. And I loved every minute of it. Time for epiphanies of a mountain-girl in a seaside town?
Relax
Reflect
Revive
After seven years of going someplace new for my birthday, I gave it up this year earlier in March to invest our time and budget in a longer 5th anniversary trip later in the year. While that is still in the works (is it time that birthday trips became anniversary ones every year?!), this last minute weekend getaway helped B and I celebrate five years together, and also gave me enough down time to contemplate one’s useful daily work in the world.
An attempt at conscious travel:
I didn’t attempt much on this trip except bringing my reusables. The resort was great about filling our water bottles, offering unopened straws which we could refuse and also using locally sourced produce. The only casualty was cling wrap on our food delivered to our room and paper plates at our airport lunch.
Book read on the trip:A Shooting Star by Shivya Nath. A travel blogger I’ve followed for a while, and a perfect read for a decompression weekend.
Be a tourist in your own life. Note your private landmarks, your important historical sights, your favourite spots.
– Found in Gretchen Rubin’s “Moments Of Happiness”
It’s been two years in Singapore today! What an interesting time it has been. For once, not in terms of the place and the travel and the externalities, like how I’ve driven my life in the last dozen years. But in terms of how my view about travel has undergone a gentle metamorphosis which I wouldn’t have noticed at all if not for my penchant for marking dates, looking back and wondering about the year that has been. So since this is my little travel space, it’s time for a dear diary moment.
I spent the first year in Singapore mostly staying put and looking at this new place I call home through something I call a wander-lens. I loved poking around the city and never noticed that we didn’t travel much at all. So what was at work here? Novelty. What was not at work? Escapism. Throughout my stay in Portland (oh, pretty Oregon!), novelty drove me out almost every long weekend, there was a freaking huge country to see – national parks, deep country boondocks and glitzy cities. Throughout my stay in Pune (back home in India), escapism drove me out, as I struggled with various aspects of moving back to my home country. The first year in Singapore was suddenly devoid of both these cravings, because the new city had enough novelty and it’s so easy to live here that I had no escapism angst at all. While I suspected that my wanderlust always had elements of these, it is only now I notice how they worked.
B and I carefully planned our getaways in the second year. After short visits to Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam and a longer trekking trip in India with him, and a solo trip to Tokyo, I began to notice an internal pattern to my preparation and reactions (lenses, if I may).If you see the size and location of Singapore, there’s nothing called an in-country long weekend trip. So we cross the border for these short jaunts. Easy to get to, expensive to enter because the visa fees add up each time. It’s the classic time vs. money issue – we don’t have the luxury of a long time in each country and hence we have a visa fund :)
Language: For the first few trips, I learnt the basics of each new language I encountered. Hello, thank you, no fish sauce. And then I realised that in all the main tourist places (which were the only ones we went to last year), I really didn’t need it at all. English worked just fine, and local markets used the language of the calculator. This was a huge surprise to me, because in Pune I learnt that English doesn’t run the world. I still like to surprise the locals though, they are certainly amused when I say something, and why not make someone laugh ;)
Food: I’ve never liked to stop too long for a meal on a trip. I’ve rued sit-down-and-order meals as a waste of time which could be spent on my feet somewhere. But that seems to have changed ever since I ate tofu laap salad in Luang Prabang. I’ve hunted down vegetarian versions of local food with as much gusto as the day’s sights and I’ve loved every minute of it! I also have waistline proof.
Sights: A medley of awe-inspiring Wats and crumbling temples, short and long mountain treks and stunning (and quiet) waterside laziness have been our choices so far. I’ve watched myself give up museums in the last two years, trading in this time for architecture and the outdoors. While the quality of museums here is part of the reason, I haven’t yet entirely figured out why I’m hesitating to go to one.
I think I’m now in the second phase, eh?
Conscious Travel: There is also the heartbreak that is S.E.Asia. Sitting beside these well-kept wonders which we trudge so far to see is a vast population that benefits from the tourist dollars but also suffers from the tourist trash. This made me pause and ask – what gives? Is there something one can do? And this led me to a whole new way of looking at every aspect of how we travel and made me search for a purpose to this wanderlust. I summarized the findings of my attempt at conscious travel here and while this doesn’t scratch the surface, I do hope it makes me and someone who reads it pause and think. Maybe they’ll have better ideas that I can learn from. Now why didn’t this strike me in Pune as we poked around India? There’s enough there on this front, eh? I don’t know. I can only hypothesize that there was enough inner angst to blind me to outer reality.
Mindfulness?!: Or maybe forgetfulness?! After years of not losing a single thing while travelling, I’ve lost four important items this last one year. My phone charger (Siem Reap), a favourite purple buff (Bangalore), pricey sunglasses and cute reusable chopsticks which were part of a set (both in Chiang Mai). I’ve only had to buy the buff again, the rest I seem to have duplicates. One up for reduce, but what’s with the slip in attention?!
Identity: The sense of being Indian that eluded me in Pune after eight years of being away is slowly starting to show itself. I do have my diaspora blues moments but I’m starting to understand why. One important angle that’s emerging is privilege and economics. I’m starting to appreciate democracy, however messed up it is along a zillion vectors. At the core of it, I’m free. That counts for a lot of things in life. For the life of me I haven’t figured out a causation story for this identity sense yet, but I’m watching it with amusement and giving it free reign to go where it wants to before I feel the need to explain it.
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It’s also…
5 years of this blog. 10 years of our adult working life. 5 years of another milestone in May.
So happy birthday many things. Let’s watch what the next year brings!
Nomadic Wanderlust 