Category: Personal

Anything and everything about me and my life. You’ll have to hunt a lot for gossip-worthy tidbits, though.

Things I Enjoy Doing For My Friends [en]

[fr] Une liste de choses que j'aime faire pour mes amis, comme démonter les ordinateurs, aider à déménager, remplir les coffres de voiture ou lire la carte.

– Putting together ikea furniture
– Fitting stuff in cellars, car boots, suitcases, fridges or other limited spaces (makes me a valuable asset when moving)
– Taking computers apart and putting them back together (preferably upgrading bits and pieces in the process)
– Installing and upgrading programmes or the OS (mac only!)
– Reading the map
– Explaining finer points of French grammar or spelling
– Light DIY (no drilling in walls)
– Unboxing things

What are yours?

Of Grief and Travel [en]

[fr] Retour d'Inde, et je pleure mon chat comme il y a un mois, après une sorte d'interruption où le deuil a gentiment glisser sous le tapis. M'habituer à son absence alors que je suis ailleurs, dans un contexte complètement étranger, c'est une chose. A la maison, cela va prendre nettement plus de temps.

As all of you must know by now, my cat Bagha died just ten days before I was due to leave on a month-long trip to India, my first “real” (understand: three weeks or more) holiday in many years. It’s been a horrible, horrible loss for me — and if at this stage you’re thinking “just a cat”, switch to “11 years of life together”. I cried every day until I left, and was still very upset when I arrived in India.

Ready to Pounce

At some point, in India, I stopped crying. Different context, people around, not much privacy, but mainly, I think, lots of exciting Indian life and people to keep me busy. Over a month, I had plenty of time to settle down in my holiday-life over there — and holiday-life and travel clearly never involved having Bagha around.

When Bagha was alive, I would miss him when I was travelling. The first days would be the worst, and then I would get used to it and stop thinking about it. After a few weeks, though, I’d be really looking forward to seeing him again. It was part of what would draw me back home.

So, maybe I was just following my normal travel-pattern here too.

Coming back has been really hard. In all honesty, it feels pretty much like I’m back to where I left off before my travels. A few things have changed, though — the work of time: I’m not in shock anymore (I’ll talk about shock in a later post about another recent death), and I don’t really expect to see Bagha sleeping on the couch or on the bed when I enter a room. I still have “where’s the cat?” or “I need to get the cat” moments, though. Many times a day. and I’m going through a lot of tissues again.

I don’t know if this “break in grief” was a good thing — not that I regret going to India at all, and I immensely enjoyed my time there — but I remember wishing I had “more time” before leaving while I was preparing my bags and departure.

Bangalore 142 Fancy Buildings.jpgWhat this trip has shown me, though, is that life goes on. Or at least, that I can rebuild a life for myself. This is very similar to what my year in India showed me: that I could start from scratch somewhere and find friends, have a life, be happy enough. (I write happy enough because generally, that’s how I am — “happy” on its own has not often been a general state in my life, though it’s a regular short-term feeling.)

But life elsewhere without my cat and life at home without my cat are not the same thing.

I'm Home [en]

[fr] Je suis rentrée. En Suisse, il fait gris et froid et Bagha est mort. Retour à prendre au jour le jour, en me félicitant d'avoir prévu une reprise en douceur après ce mois de décrochage.

I’m home.

Back in cold grey Switzerland, back to my dead cat and other losses that were put on the back-burner while I was in India.

Sorry for the gloom. There isn’t even snow to make things a little fun and exciting.

To be honest, I don’t feel really home. “Home” has lost a bit of its “homeness” without Bagha.

Part of the love I’ve had for my cozy flat these last ten years was because Bagha was here. Not all of it, but part of it. I used to always look forward to coming home after a trip, because it would mean being back with my cat. I missed him when I was away.

OK, maybe I’m painting the picture a little rosy in hindsight. Maybe I didn’t always look forward to coming home from my travels. But I was always happy to see Bagha again. I always looked forward to that.

Of course, it’ll get better in the coming days. I’ll see my friends again, rediscover the comfort of Swiss life, get working on my projects here (both personal and professional).

And scatter Bagha’s ashes in the garden.

Even now, all is not bad. It’s quiet. I have privacy. There is cheese.

I miss India already, though. You know, Nicole, I think I understand what you meant a couple of months back when you told me that you loved and hated it here, because I think I feel the same about India. I love it there. But some things also drive me nuts and make me thing “OMG I’m so glad it’s different at home”.

I’m going to spend more time in India. Two weeks scheduled in October (Delhi, Hindi tutoring) and most certainly January 2012, like this year. I have plans. Go back to the lovely homestay in Mysore. Visit a village near Pune where a friend has relatives. Go to Goa (yeah, even though it’s your cliché tourist destination). Spend a couple of days in Mumbai with Reality Tours and Travel. Plan a trip to Rajasthan (a lead and contacts showed up a week ago). In Pune, visit Parvati temple, the Aga Khan Palace, and one of the hill forts without giving up halfway there. Take Marathi classes. I could go on.

India is huge, diverse, exciting, chaotic. It’s a mess. The disregard for safety and rules can be maddening, but it’s also a healthy release from our coddled and controlled lifestyle here in the West.

I’m home now. A little anxious about how the next days will go, but I’ve decided to take it day by day. Today: unpack, check the state of my bank account and bills to pay, make a few appointments, go to judo. Tomorrow: go to a few appointments. Wednesday: dive into three days of Lift.

Indian Stretchable Time [en]

[fr] En quelques mots? Pas envie que mes vacances se terminent.

You what what they say about time in India: IST doesn’t stand for Indian Standard Time, but for Indian Stretchable Time. I think it’s pretty obvious to anybody who spends enough time here that the perception of time is very different here than in Europe, for example.

Pune 142 Laxmi Road Shopping.jpg

Holiday-time is also different from work-time. Days stretch ahead when your holiday is long enough. You forget what day of the week it is. You lose track of how long you’ve “been here”. You spend a whole day in Lightroom and fooling about online without worrying about being “productive”. You get up when you get up, don’t worry too much about mealtimes (especially if that is taken care of by your hosts), forget about your upcoming plans and deadlines.

And suddenly you realize there is less than a week left before you’re back in Switzerland, back to work-life, back to processing e-mails, back to a catless flat, back to earning money and paying attention to how much you spend, back to the cold and grey winter, back to everything you left behind.

Let me say it clearly: I don’t want my holiday to end and I don’t want to go back.

Of course, I look forward to seeing my friends again — but I’ll miss the people I love here. And I am very grateful I took example (partially) on danah and decided to send all my holiday e-mail into the black hole — meaning I will be coming back to work without an e-mail backlog to catch up on.

But right now I really don’t want to go back to my life.

We had a really nice time in Bangalore and Mysore. My Bangalore photos are online now, but I haven’t got around to sorting through the Mysore ones yet, or writing all the articles I want to write — as if putting it off was going to extend my holiday. (Articles? Bangalore Walks, Hillview Farms Homestay, Security Theatre in India, some thoughts on Indian culture in the light of independence and colonial legacy, a whole bunch of Indian recipes…)

I’ll go back to reading my book or hanging out on Quora now, while Nisha makes lovely-smelling chapatis next to me and the dogs nap on the cool stone floor.

How to Order Pizza in India: a Rant [en]

[fr] 45 minutes au téléphone (et 5 appels différents) pour commander une pizza. Mais j'ai réussi!

This is a little rant while I wait for said pizza to arrive. Yes, I actually did manage to order pizza. Here’s how I did it.

Called Domino’s Pizza main customer service line, told them where I was (IUCAA, near Khadki-Aundh Road), and was transferred to Aundh branch, where I was promptly told delivery was not possible and that DP Road branch would deliver to me.

I took down DP Road’s branch number, called them, and was told that Aundh branch was the correct branch to call for my address (this required me to be transferred to somebody who spoke English I could more or less understand — I hate doing stuff by phone in India). I told them the Aundh branch had sent me to them, but was told to call them and that they would deliver to me.

I took down the Aundh branch number and called them again. The service rep’s English was minimal (he quickly told me delivery was not possible, but I insisted, and told them I had already had pizzas delivered here — true, ate a lot when I lived here with Aleika) so I ended putting Nisha’s niece on the line to improve communication (Hindi/Marathi). After a long conversation, the conclusion was that they would not deliver because the pizza would be cold.

Enter Twitter: should I expect to be able to get delivery? Well, yes, here’s the closest branch: SB Road.

So, I gather my courage and call the general customer service number (which I’m starting to know by heart) again. (Side-note to readers: the pizza has arrived and I have eaten it since starting to write this post — I’m feeling less ranty and more proud of myself. A full stomach will do that.)

I am told that SB Road branch does not exist or is not in the system. Will DP Road do? No, DP road will not do. I explain what I’ve already been through, and that I would like to know which branch to call to get a delivery, and that I suspect it might be SB Road. No, no, it doesn’t exist. Again, as I’m having a lot of trouble understanding the CSR on the line (not just their fault — my Indian English is not 100% and I’m particularly bad with accents on the phone), I put Nisha’s niece on the line.

It doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere really interesting, and looking at the website again I see the direct number for the branch is provided. We hang up, I take a deep breath, and I call again. This time, I am not told that delivery is impossible. My order goes smoothly — understand: it takes me about 10 minutes to give my address. The street name is Akashganga. OK, Akashganga. What is the street name? Er… Akashganga. In IUCAA. So, IUCAA ### (flat number). No, Akashganga. In IUCAA. IUCAA is the housing complex. So, Akashganga, IUCAA, near what landmark? Er… IUCAA, the astrophysics department. Near the University Campus back gate. So, Akashganga, IUCAA, near physics department. No, near the back gate. (10 good minutes of that. I’m patient. I explain everything in detail. I double-check they have my number right. I explain there are security guards who can direct the delivery boy. I say again it’s right at the back of the University campus.)

I give my order. This is about 45 minutes after my first call to Domino’s Pizza. What’s wrong with this picture?

But everything seems fine. I put down the phone, take a deep breath, and go and take a quick bath to wash of a full day’s roaming in the polluted city (a lot of it on foot, including beggar kids grabbing me and wiping their hands all over my clothes — worse begging in the space of 5 minutes near the top of Jangli Maharaj Road than I had in months when I was living here).

Totally surprisingly (I have to say), the pizza arrives reasonably quickly, still warm, and without the delivery guy having to call us. If only ordering had been so simple.

(OK, next time I’m ordering online. I was put off by the fact they required an Indian number, but thinking of it now, I could have provided the landline to where I’m staying — which I did on the phone anyway. Oh well. One learns.)

Basically, once I was on the line with the right branch, I was pretty much OK. But the service provided before that was disastrous: pillar to post, and nobody able to send me to the right place or provide me more useful information than “not possible”. Twitter provided better customer service than Domino’s, in this case. Thanks again, Sahil.

Time-Melt in Pune [en]

[fr] Encore des nouvelles de Pune, où tout se passe bien. Mes photos sont en ligne (en vrac).

I’m losing track of time. When did I get here? A week ago already? It has flown by so fast, but it feels like I’ve been living here (almost) all my life.

We just got home from a wonderful meal at Shabree, a restaurant that does Maharashtrian thalis. We ate till we (almost) burst!

Finding a rickshaw home tonight was easier than last night, when I watched a bunch of guys my jeweler had asked stop at least a dozen rickshaws before finding one who would take us back from MG Road.

Pune 191 Laxmi Road Shopping.jpg

I think I definitely like Laxmi Road way better than MG Road. It’s more alive, more “real”, less “trying to be upmarket”. There are nice shops in and around MG Road though, but if it’s just for pleasure, I’ll take Laxmi Road. Our trip today was successful: goda masala (I still need to write up some Nisha recipes for you, I can’t keep up!) and a few other spices, Nisha’s brand of tea, an oil-lamp for my dad, lots of cheap fresh coriander, nail polish, and a few other things I forget. Oh yes, we found a shop which probably has the cable or card reader we’re looking for.

In other news, I dump-uploaded my photos, so they’re now visible online in my Pune 2010-2011 set. Clearly some of them need a little work (whether I’ll ever get around to doing it is another story) and I need to break them up into smaller, more manageable sets. Feel free to add tags to the photos and to point out which ones you think are particularly good — it really helps me after when I try to turn them into something presentable.

I’m exhausted again (because the day was long and nice!) so I’m going to leave things here — aren’t holidays supposed to be restful? 😉

Can't Keep Up With My Pune Photos! [en]

[fr] Des nouvelles de Pune. Les photos viendront, mais j'ai de la peine à suivre!

Help, I can’t keep up! I’ve settled down nicely now and been taking lots of photographs — in the University campus while walking the dogs with the Shindes, and in Laxmi Road yesterday with Mithun and family (got to meet his lovely wife, and his mother is an absolutely fabulous shopping partner).

Pune 218 Laxmi Road Shopping.jpg

So, I’ve been busier, with less time to sort photos and write, and I’m falling behind. And now my dad has arrived, so it’s going to get even worse!

After a couple of days here, I started to feel an urge (a) to come here more often and (b) to come and live here again. Of course, it goes back and forth, and I’m regularly very happy to be living in tame Switzerland — like when a rickshawallah agrees to take me to IUCAA, leaves the meter running at the petrol station, refuses to stop it when I tell him, and then dumps me at the university gate because he won’t go into the campus. Or when I’m trying on something that is clearly too small for me and I’m told repeatedly that it fits me perfectly (no it doesn’t: if I reach forward I’ll rip the fabric, and I’ll have to get into really uncomfortable positions to get out of it). Or when I ask for size 9 sandals, am told the size 6 I have in hand is a hand 9 (upside down, see?), and that my own size 9 sandals are bigger in size than their “size 9” because they’re Kohlapuri chappals. Gah.

But aside from these little frustrations, I’m thoroughly enjoying my time here. My Hindi (er Hinglish… my Hindi teachers would be appalled) is slowly coming back, I’m remembering the roads and generally how to deal with the world around me.

I tested the Pune Twitter connexion, with great success! Thanks in particular to MrShri, SahilK, and ZoebAsif for helping me out with my laptop repair (not my laptop, don’t worry!) — and all the others I’ve been in contact with upto now.

Right, I’ll try and make a little progress with these photos, before heading out to MG Road again in a bit!

A Few Days in Pune, and Dress Material [en]

[fr] Quelques premiers jours à Pune!

I’ve been in Pune for a few days now. So, what have I been up to? Well, mainly, hanging out at the Shindes.

I remember that during my last visit here I spent days on end just reading and chilling, and feeling a little guilty that I wasn’t “making the most” of my stay. But I realized that India for me is also simply about slowing down my pace of life, which includes reading (and writing) and chilling — and watching Nisha cook so I can steal her recipes.

I’ve been out a few times now: twice to MG Road, once to Ambedkar Chowk, to Pimpri and to Parvati to pay a visit to Pradnya, who was Bagha and Cali‘s vet when we lived here, and is now the Shindes.

Pune has changed a lot, but it also hasn’t. There are flyovers and big glass buildings and malls and huge petrol stations that weren’t there last time I came, but other things seem almost just like I left them: my choli-maker is still in service, as is my jeweler, the Pune Coffee House in Camp still exists as do many of the shops I went to, and most of the people I knew are still around.

The trip to Pimpri was epic: three different rickshaws to get there, none of them by the meter, of course. Good thing there were “six-seaters” somewhere along the way (I use brackets because they’re not really six-seaters, they’re just normal rickshaws in which people pile up).

Dress material in Pimpri, my favourites from shop #1 Dress material in Pimpri, my favourites from shop #2 Dress material in Pimpri, my favourites from shop #3

My ambition was to find a pink and silver salwaar kameez in today’s fashion. My dresses are clearly a little out of fashion, and I spotted a few cute pink ones on the street with silver embroidery. Ready-made would have been ideal given I’m not going to be in Pune for long, but after trying on one or two I quickly gave up: even the biggest of their biggest XL was too small for me. I moved on to dress material, but without finding something what I was looking for. Some nice things, of course, but not what I had in my head. If only I could draw clothes! I did see something approaching what I wanted, but… in green. Oh well.

What I'm actually looking for, but in pink

Maybe I’ll just end up buying fabric and having a shot at drawing (gasp!) something.

Sorting Through Grief [en]

So, in the process of coming to terms with Bagha’s death — or at least, moving forward in that direction — I’ve tried to identify what made him special and unique for me. You see, when losing a pet you’re as attached to as I was to Bagha, a lot of things get mixed up.

Cute Sleeping Bagha at Eclau

I think it helps to differentiate, for example, between the pain of being “petless” and the pain of losing this specific pet. Here are some of the levels I can make out:

  • what it means for me to now be living completely alone (ie, “petless” => by extension, what having a pet — any pet — adds to my life)
  • what made Bagha special, as compared to other cats (his personal caracteristics, pretty objectively)
  • what made Bagha special for me, in terms of the relationship we had and what he meant to me.

I made a pretty long list in the days following his death. One of the reasons I’m doing this is that I have trouble sorting out the levels (even simply hoping they make sense). The idea is to identify what I am really grieving here (yeah, my cat of course, but let’s skip the obvious) and also — this is the difficult part for me — to pinpoint what remains for me of this feline relationship.

What made it worthwhile? What justifies or compensates the suffering when it ends? What is really hurting because of this particular loss, and what is just old stuff coming back to the surface? Because without that, the obvious conclusion to this much grief (and those who have been through separations of any type in their life can probably relate) is vowing never to put oneself in a situation that leaves the door open to suffering like this again. To put it clearly: to be able to love (or bond) you need to be able to grieve (to come to terms with loss).

I’ll dive into this exercise in another post. First of all, because it will be long — and second, because it’s not easy, and I think I have to take things little by little. Writing this up is the first step.

Happy to See You, 2011 [en]

Let me say it clearly: just like Nicole’s did, my 2010 sucked raw eggs. I won’t go over the details of the bad stuff — suffice to say that losing Bagha was just the last of 2010’s rotten offerings to me, right when I was starting to feel back on my feet again and thinking that I was done with this crappy year.

There have been good things, though: more work opportunities than I can handle, finances back on track, good health, sailing, friends, a judo 2nd dan, better organization as a freelance professional, and of course… growth (gotta love them bad times, they make you grow like nothing else does).

Enough looking back. What’s important is what’s ahead. I don’t make resolutions, though I try to give my year a direction or objectives — a bit in the spirit of 6changes, though it’s not exactly that.

So, what’s to look forward to in 2011?

  • my holidays are set — stick to them and travel more with my friends (one of the advantages of being catless, it makes traveling simpler)
  • keep up the good job with my work, and free up more work-time for research, reading, writing, and generally fooling around online (my “food” if I want to continue being as good at what I do)
  • get an aquarium for eclau
  • look after my plants better, get orchids, grow veggies on my balcony (Jamie Oliver style)
  • more cooking and inviting people (good food, and nurturing my tribe)
  • go sailing, hiking, sing, and do judo

There will probably be more or less to this year ahead. But that’s what comes to my mind as I look forward.