A year ago....

I remember November 23rd very very clearly in my head. It was the day I was stranded in the little town of San Pedro Atacama in Northern Chile without any money, fairly hungry, sun burnt, tired and wondering. Id bid farewell to the Colombian friends in the Bolivian border a day ago. Id said goodbye to Roy about 10 days ago in the Peruvian border. And for the first time in a long long time, I was truly alone and broke.

Id lost my wallet in Peru, my own stupidity. Roy had left his credit card with me. But, my stupidity did not end with just losing the wallet. When I crossed over from Bolivia to Chile, reluctantly, I forgot to exchange Bolivian currency for Chilean. I thought I was safe with a credit card and a 10 dollar note I had. Well well well.. the ATMs did not work. The 10 dollar bought me a night at the youth hostel and nothing more. Credit card forgery (signing as Roy to buy a bus tikcet), some startvation and lot of yearning to see things I couldn't afford is how I landed up passing the day.

I was quite miserable that day. I remember. I wanted to eat and hang out with people. I wanted to ride a quad bike into the dunes. I think I even wanted to go to the Valley of the moon to see the sunset. Something like that... But, I had no money. For the first time in a long time, I really knew what it felt like to be totally broke. Walking around aimlessly with truly empty pockets seemed like an experience every backpacker would go through sometime or the other. You turn them upside down and you'd see sand trickle out... But, its also pretty distrubing. That day, I did not see any positives. I was just cranky, hungry and tired. I cried a lot. I just wanted to board the bus to a city where I would meet friends and eat good food. In the entire 7 month trip, if there was one day I moped a lot, it was Nov 23rd.

Why do I remember this today? I wandered into office at around 9 30 am and its a monday. For the first few minutes, I make my coffee and just stare at my laptop watching the white screen turn partially red with the highlighted unread mails. As this turns into a blur, my mind wanders and lands up with collages of landscapes from my trip a year ago. Yes... this morning, I looked at the date on the mailbox and sipped coffee. And it was a dusty blur. The images were all a dusty blur like the sand storm in San Pedro De Atacama. And I was alone in the office, with the whrrrrrring sound of the air con keeping me company.

Shit.. what a long way..... Im not broke. Im not alone. But, Im in a cold cubilcle wishing I was alone and broke in a dust strom.

I would have spent the day very differently, smiling and carelessly strolling around had I known I was going to be sitting in a freezing office a year from now.

Quase Uma Escritora... Quase Brasileira

Eu senti muito saudade para Brasil. A gente conhece isso. Entao, eu comecei um novo blog para compartilhar meus pensamentos em português - Quase Uma Escritora

Porque eu nao posso explicar todos emoções e situações em ingles.

Porque eu nao quero falar ou escrever em uma lingua todos conhece acqui.

Porque eu nao quero ser uma livro aberto.

Porque eu quero minhas secretos.

Além disso, eu sabe que as pessoas quem vão traduzir esta são muito poucos.

Porque eu sabe que as brasileiros entendem.

Porque eu fico em um universo paralelo.

Porque eu fico em uma mundo sonho.

Maria full of grace.... Aparna full of anger....

How many of you have heard about the movie Maria full of Grace... the Colombian film about a pregnant girl Maria, who is a victim of the classic drug smuggling from Latin America you oh so often hear about. Stricken by poverty and fired from her miserable paying job, with a total lack of perspective but romantic in wanting to support her family, she decides to accept the offer to work as a drug mule, flying to USA with sixty-two pellets of cocaine in her stomach. Yeah! She swallows every one of them, without realising the consequences of the drugs on her pregnancy, on US immigration, on the methodology of extracting the drugs or the possible murder that it can result in if she fails to do so. The movie is stark, realistic, painful with absolutely no feel good elements. That's why there are brutal portions of the movie that shake you up so badly that drug is not a word you would want in your dictionary.

When I was in Bolivia, I was told that I resemble Maria. Maybe something about being with a bunch of Colombians... I looked Colombian enough. I did not give it much thought then. (But, sure as hell it was a compliment.. she is a South american beauty)

















Anyway, its almost half a year since I got back from the trip and I saw a pirated DVD of this movie lying around in someones place. Reminded me of the comparison. And, then it reminded me of something else...... My Maria experience...

The first time Maria steps into the United States, pregnant, with drugs in her stomach, clutching her bag and looking terrified of the security check, you cannot help but feel the fear yourself. As one of the other mules is being led away by the police after an X-Ray scan, which clearly reveals the drugs, you can't help but think about the dilemma she is in. But, pregnancy would have never had its advantages as much as this moment. Maria escapes the X-Ray and hence, manages to cross immigration purely by luck. However, those few minutes scare the shit out of anyone watching the movie, feeling Maria's pain... But, she deals with it oh so beautifully.... with sheer grace indeed.

Well... cut to March 2009, Atlanta airport, early morning. Delta Airlines from Sao Paulo lands and I walked out of flight, chatting up this 17 year old Brazilian exchange student, most thrilled about going to Alabama or Arizona for his semester abroad. Speaking only Portuguese, this kid sported wavy long hair and carried just a dirty backpack, like me. In the entire hall full of passengers, 2 people were picked by the African American police crew (I'm not a racist, but this detail just makes the whole setting more visual) and who does that happen to be - Brazilian boy and me. I thought it was routine check that they put backpackers through but I was being too kind to the Americans. Little did I know what I was going to be put through. Without getting into too much detail, let me just say, I was strip searched, put through an X-ray, interrogated in a room about the possibility of carrying drugs, running away from India, having a 17 year old brazilian boyfriend in addition to the standard who are you visiting, what do they do, how do you know them, how much do they earn, when do you plan to go back, do you have a job, do you have a husband, why did you leave him for such a long time, how come you speak Portuguese, why do you train in a martial art, why did you talk to a stranger in an airplane..... You get the drift! They even had a audacity to remove everything out of my backpack and unfortunately landed up finding 3 brazilian porn magazines that I was carrying for my American friend (it was a dare, trust me). Other than that, they just found wierd looking instruments tucked away in nooks and corners of my bag and suspiciously shook it to see if it had pellets or something. My caxixi, an insrument that looks conical with coffee seeds in it and the little christmas light kind of samba ball with mustard like seeds in it may have gotten me arrested. Anyway, I had to shake them about in the three beats to convince them it was a Samba instrument. I even hummed a bit. Eventually, after 1.5 hours and wasting my beautiful morning, the fat guard decided to let me go. But, about 10 minutes before he decided that, I was totally mind F***ed and I decided to mess with him. So, I remember this dialogue very clearly.

Guard - Why Brazil for so long?

Me - Because I love coffee and the country has the best coffee in the world in addition to lovely people and cultural richness. And...... its 6 45 am, about an hour and a half since my flight landed and my friends are waiting for me hopefully. If you want to mess with me this early in the morning, a cup of coffee would have been nice.

Ice broken finally. Freak.

Guard - Hahahahahha (artificial laugh) Girl with a sense of humour eh. You can pack up your stuff and get your passport from the other counter. And that's the way to the MARTA station. Good day!

Me - Thanks! You have a good day too (What I really wanted to say....... let me save it)

I left the airport indignant, having been treated so miserably when I knew I had done nothing wrong. I left with rage. I wanted to punch the guard before leaving, even if it meant getting deported to India that minute, with cancellation of my US visa. I remembered the painful day my mother missed her flight from Neward to Austin when the guards in the airport thought that her tongue cleaner was a weapon. I'd laughed at her then. Now, I know what certified idiots some of those Americans are. And I'm not surprised at all.

I'm just angry. and I sure as hell hope they don't try that with me again.

Print footprint...

I was a little depressed at work and was making a list of alternate career options for a brief moment :) I googled my name to check what goes with my name and was pleasantly surprised to find many of the online links to my print footprint.... Yup! There are some publications that have published my travel stories....

HT - Reading the Signs - Story on Bolivia Salt Flats

HT - Brazil's lost world - Story on Chapada Diamantina

HT - Cast in Stone - Story on Easter Island

Hindu Business Line - Streets of Samba - Story on Rio Carnival

Times of India - Bailamos - Story on Rio Carnival

.... and some who even published stories about me.... (jesus! i dont believe it)....

HT - Bridging the gap - Story on gap year featuring me

Times of India - For backpacker, blogging is currency

Event Faqs - Experiential Holiday

Event Faqs - 'Backpacking Ninja’ off to experience Latin America; Brands ride on young woman traveler

Mid Day - Why backpack when you can flashpack?

Readers Digest - My couchsurfing experience among others

Business Standard - A friend in every port - My couchsurfing experience among others

And now, Im thinking maybe I should write a few more articles.... should I?

And then hopefully, someday, gain the courage to venture into the scary territory of writing a book... hmmmmmm... what say ?

Saude, Saideira and Saudade... Only the Samba was missing

Mondays don't turn out like this. Especially in Mumbai.

Got to relive a bit of my Brazilian days... Started the evening with 'Saude'... nothing sounds as sweet as Saude.... Try the whole heavythroat Spanish Salut or the armytone Israeli Lakhaim or just the heavydrunk English Cheers... nothing sounds as melodic and beautiful as Saude.

Spent pretty much the entire night, educating my new student (on Brazilian culture) the importance of 'Saideira'. You can't take a beer away from a Brazilian. Neither can you take Brazilians away from beer. One bunch who take the last drink very seriously... and its the last drink all night.

Saude and Saideira and all the Brazil talk... Eu senti saudade... muito saudade... unbelievable deep yearning or nostalgia for Brazil, that only you can feel.. you just cant write about it.

O que uma noite refrescante ..... so faltava o samba!

I finally unpacked...

Its been 4 months since I came back .... and I keep getting these random messages from people I know... people I don't know... about why I am not writing in my blog... what can I say! I wish I was still on the road so that I could provide entertainment to one and all about my exciting life...

Today, I beat traffic to get to a meeting bang on time only to realise that the people who I was supposed to meet did not give a rats ass about what I was sharing with them. Then, I spent time in a cafe checking my work email and replied to international morons about the way in which we need to do things slightly differently in india... the never ending debate.. then, I headed for another meeting in the afternoon, which was delightful thanks to the guy who I met taking amazing care of my coffee craving... (ofcourse I warned him in advance about being prepared with coffee for the meeting... especially black) and he was a darling to comply with my request.. I beat Ganesh festival traffic to get home in time only to spend the evening answering office emails again... why does it feel like all I do online these days is check office email.... and doesn't that answer the .. why am I not getting time to blog... Hmmmm

And in the midst of all the frantic email replying, I was looking for my travel diary which has some emails of friends who I wanted to write to... and realised that I had put it away under the bed... buried it there and not looked at it in days... amidst the dusty backpack and sleeping bag that still had a damp smell.. amidst all the brochures from the trip that just lay there crying out to me.... Thats when it hit me - Damn it, Ive unpacked finally!

Clipped Wings....

Its been a little over 100 days since I returned from the magnificent trip and I still wake up many days thinking I'm gonna find my backpack by my side and crumpled bus tickets in my pocket. Life has changed. I found a job. Yes! Someone actually hired me after this one year. (That's a story by itself)

So... I obviously don't find my backpack and the bus tickets. I find my mobile phone with a messed up display on my side with messages from my new found friends in the corporate world.. I find my laptop running on battery because it strangely refuses to shut down... I find printouts, so environment unfriendly... I find that I have exactly 15 minutes to shower, eat and run out the door just in time to find an auto, get to a crowded junction next to home only to be turned down by a taxi driver, then catch a bus to my office... I find that I dont have time to savour a cup of black coffee without which my day doesnt start... I find that I need to device a plan to get out of work in time for my Capoeira class which means the world to me.. I find that my husband is gone and Ill probably see him only in the weekend considering Bombay work life... I find that I probably have to spend 80% of the day doing things I dont want to do to make money to fund doing the things I love doing for a very small part of my day... I find myself not answering my phone calls from friends because I dont have the time to meet them or talk to them and that is depressing because Im forced to answer the phone from people I havent even met who are work related... I find myself in a cubicle with no ventilation... I find myself with a headache staring at a bright monitor.. I find myself lost in a world I dont think I belong to... and more than anything, I find myself with clipped wings...

..... and when you are back.....

Typical phone conversation when you are back:

Friend: Shrieeeeeeeeeek...... oooooooooooh, you are back. It must've been fantastic.

Me: Yeah, I had a fabulous time.

Friend: Oh my god... I can't believe you actually did this...... So amazing... and that too, your husband has been so amazing about it...

Me: Yeah... I am very lucky.

Friend: Ok ok... now, tell me... what are you going to do next? You must be getting bored doing nothing....

Me: (being nice) I really don't know...... I'm taking my time to figure things out.
Me: (actually wanting to say) Go to hell...... what do you mean I'm doing nothing... I have Spanish classes in the morning.... Capoeira classes in the evening... Im writing for publications during the day.... Im cleaning my house... Im providing obline entertainment for you all by blogging... and you still think I am doing nothing.

Friend: Ofcourse yaar.... I mean.. take your time.. But, you are so brave. Who won't give you a job?

Me: (being nice) Yeah... I guess so... I guess I'll try applying for jobs soon. Or think about doing something new and exciting.
Me: (actually wanting to say) If I could get a job for every 50 times I've heard that, I'd have about 10 jobs by now.

Phew!

Typical conversation in person when you are back:

Friend: Friend: Shrieeeeeeeeeek...... oooooooooooh, you are back. God.. you are looking gorgeous.. What a tan yaar... and you have lost so much weight.... It must've been fantastic...

..... continue as above......

What they don't tell you about travel

Travel is incredible. Everything about it. What they don't tell you is how miserable you can get when you return back home.... or wait, where is home? Is there a home? If the travel bug bit you hard enough, you may be a nomad for life. I came back about a week ago. I'm in denial. I still haven't unpacked. I hope to update the blog with some missing posts and pretend that I'm still traveling.

If anyone wants to cheer me up, send me an air ticket please.

Ultima dois semanas....

The last 2 weeks in Brazil went away so quickly it almost felt like it never happened. I was torn between just staying back in Rio and dancing away every night or heading to Florianapolis and lying around in the beach or diving in Ilha Grande or taking a boat ride down Pantanal (the Kerala of Brazil).... But, then I figured that it involved 20 hour bus journeys or 2 hour boat rides, both I was sick and tired of.. So, I just decided to head to Sao Paulo and attend classes at the Capoeira Academy and do the 'oh so brazilian things' and 'some not so brazilian things' before leaving...

I drank Cerveja.. lots of it..

I ate Acai.. tons of it..

I overdosed on Guarana..

I ate at the cheap Comido por kilo places.. Ive now perfected the art of loading the plate only for 10 Reals or under..

I ate at the Japanese quarter of Sao Paulo... (Incidentally, some of the best Jap food in the world is served in Sao Paulo)

I ate at the best pizza place in the world .. (Thats what my host Luiza calls it)

I drank loads of coffee.. and bought lots..

I ate Pasteils in the Mercado Municipal.. (Mauricio in Chile. i did try to ask them if they would deliver in Santiago .. I remember your request... and they said thats not possible..)

I drank Caipirinhas.. (and even volunteered at a street fair trying to make some)

I drank Maracuja juice.... mmmmm,....

No guesses.. I am a foodie... In between all this eating and drinking, I did some Capoeira. I injured my wrist trying to do a stupid move that I cannot do and had to stop doing classes.

So, I decided to Samba instead... I went to my favourite Samba club and was amazed that I could sing a lot more than I could 5 months back.. the band remembered me and the singer (who looks like an ex boss of mine) even dedicated a song to me..

I learnt to click my fingers like the Brazilians.. (am still learning).. my right fore finger is almost green..

I bought some backless tops.. (god knows if I can wear them in India)

I went to a Brazilian waxing parlour and experienced excruciating pain... (they are not kidding when they say Brazilian women go through a lot of pain to look beautiful)

I shopped for Brazilian porn for an American friend... (and learnt about the different grades of porn)

I spent an afternoon reading Vinicius Moraes Poetry with a dictionary and fell in love with him..

I watched an Israeli film with Portuguese subtitles.. I think my Portuguese reading and comprehending level is way better than Hebrew listening level..

I went to a circus rehearsal with a girl from Honduras..

I went to a film archive and learnt about film restoration..

I bought hawainas... (brazilian rubber chappals)

I paid homage to Senna... visited his grave....

I downloaded Season 4 of Prison Break and saw most of it... and Im tired that its going nowhere.. and Michael is getting fatter..

I watched Lost with Portuguese subtitles and fell in love with Sawyer all over again..

I chatted with a Lebanese liquor store owner and discussed a part of the world I knew nothing about..

I hung out with wonderful couchsurfers..

I watched the corporate world walk by Aveneida Paulista as I sat around eating Acai flovoured ice cream in backpacker clothes... its a thrill...

I tried to hand stands in Ibirapuera park..

I slept on a few bus rides and missed my stops..

I bargained in Portuguese...

I discovered my artistic side and made a fabulous looking belt...

I skype called everyone I missed...

I tried to flip coins everyday to decide whether I should stay back in Brazil or leave.. I even tried best of threes..

Anyway... I did board that flight on 11th March. Took the metro to Tatuape and the bus the airport and drank a Cerveja and a Caparinha in the 1 hour in the airport. Quickly ate Acai too. Boarded the flight and was disappointed to find only Hollywood films and English music. Searched Delta In-Flight entertainment desperately for a Portuguese film. Spoke to the airhostess in Portuguese though she spoke fluent English. Was extremely delighted to be sitting next to a Brazilian exchange student. Saw the night lights of Sao Paulo as the flight took off.. and cried a bit...

The flight started heading northwards.... it got colder (though the flight had temprature control, I could feel the warmth of Brazil being sucked out of me) .... When I landed in Atlanta, the welcome was the coldest welcome in my whole life. Will do justice to that by writing the bitchiest blog post ever very soon.

Now Im here... cold.... missing Brazil sooo much... craving for Cafezinhos... missing hearing music everywhere... all the oh so Brazilian things... and wondering whether I should have done 'best of 5' when I flipped that coin. Only meeting my 2 school friends is making up for leaving Brazil.