It used to be the caption of the Visa credit card advertising in India "I've got the visa power". With the credit crunch, I am not very certain of this, but the other visa allowing one to travel is indeed a power. Life had been kind to me, as I got my visas very easily so far, and I mean until recently. From India to go to the US, and from US, to come to Switzerland.
Of course, I belong to a generation which started experiencing the most changes in the US visa policy. Firstly, following the unfortunate events in 2001, the drop-box policy changed to visa interview policy. Then the visa interview format changed from a simple "get it or get away" approach to that of maintaining a long drawn soap opera suspense. People with advanced scientific degrees may need an additional screening which may take months at a time. Some of my Indian friends had this trouble when they went to renew their visa in the middle of PhD. Poor them, firstly the fact that they needed a visa renewal is not pleasant, because this means their PhD needed more than 5 years. And on top of it, they were put on hold for over 2 months. What could they do, they were exactly on the other side of the planet earth, with a small lead of 12 hours in the time zone, but a long wait nevertheless. They waited, waited, and finally when they felt they may not have such a long break again, they got married. Nice ha?? I hope this is not a racket between the visa officers in Chennai and the local marriage bureaus in India.
When it was my turn for extending my sweet PhD period, I was at an interview as well. When I heard of interview, I went very well dressed, with polished shoes even. Well, I stopped there. Some others were so scared of the US interview that they were crying in front of the officer, at which point the officer was suggesting that they should practice yoga, breathing and all that .. .. ! Well, to my surprise the officer could only see upto my waist from the glass window she was behind. "What's your work useful for?", she asked. "Nothing", I replied sharply without any hesitation. "No, it must be useful for some science, some application?" "not really", I said. She asked me one more time and this time I replied "look at this point you almost make me feel bad that my work is not really useful for anything, but that's the sad truth". She was convinced and I got my visa, (or missed my window of opportunity for getting married??).
Recently, after moving to Switzerland, I had to apply for a US visa again. This time I decided to give the same answers, but unfortunately the questions were different, with even a special application form just for men. I was a little concerned about the privacy content of the questions until I read them all :). And finally the officer said we put your visa on a casual hold which may take up to months. That was 2 months ago and I still have not heard from them. hmm.
Now compare it to the Swiss visa. I had to give all my information to my university after accepting my job. After 2 months of processing at the Swiss consulate, the papers finally reached Mumbai. I had to go there to pick up my visa. Upon entering the country, I had to obtain a work permit, which again took 2 months of processing. At least I could stay in the country and work while I waited for it. I thought all of these delays in the Swiss work permit were for security reasons. A friend of mine who also applied for a work permit with me did not get it even after 2 months of wait. When he enquired, they said "look, we do not have it. Either we sent it to you and it was lost in the mail or we sent it to the printing office where it is processed". "Either, OR?" for such an important document. He asked if he could get the phone number of this printing office. And their response was that there is no phone in the printing office. Really? I do not understand what's happening. They were not even sure whether they sent it or not, and they mention this strange printing office which probably does not even exist. Now I know the delays are not due to security, but more due to a laid back life style in Switzerland.
Thankfully, as an Indian citizen, I do not need a visa for going back home. Otherwise I wonder how much of delays I can expect from my sweet very well relaxed home country. Anyway, although the hold on my US visa application was a disappointment, I had my fun counting the number of Indians, to be specific south Indians outside the consulate. After I saw 6 of us south Indians among the 25-30 people lined up outside the consulate in Bern, I was pretty sure that if I am really desparate for finding a south Indian person, I just have to look for them outside the local US consulate, whichever part of the world I am in.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Friday, 6 March 2009
open sesame !
Coming late in the evening from a long day's work, the last thing I want to think is mathematics, however simple it might be. "If I have two keys on my key bunch, what is the chance that I pick the wrong key?", I struggle with the dim intellect left at the odd hour of the day. Common sense tells me that I have a respectable fifty percent chance of getting right, although things never worked this way, when I have to pick my key for opening the door. As one of my Professors used to comment, common sense is not so common. So, I end up struggling with keys. Life did not appreciate much even though I added a marker on one of the keys recently, as I do not remember if the marker was for the home key or not.
In the US, and in India I used keys with multiple levers carved on them (picture to the right). More the levers, better the security of your lock. While in Switzerland, the keys are more trendy with laser engravings (picture to the left). (Do not rush to duplicate the Swiss key image, I got it from the web, it's not my key). An observation which took me a while is that in the US, no one can get locked inside a house. This is probably a feature with that owes its origin to the way the US judicial system works, which under appropriate conditions endows any individual, even a thief, the right to sue the landlord for security reasons. On the other hand, in Switzerland, the door is closed from inside with the key, which means one can get locked inside the apartment as well. I still remember the first night of my stay in Switzerland. By mistake, I was given the key to a room that was already occupied by someone. And the reception was closed before I realized this! The gentleman occupying the room with was kind enough to offer some space in his room, but I had to hold on to my key all night just for my own security in the new country. And in India, where most doors still use the latch system with a pad-lock on it, the door can be locked from both the sides. That's right, if someone locks you inside a room, you could express your protest by locking yourself from the inside. I really do not know if it helps, but sometimes it soothes the ego.
Although the mechanism of their functioning is slightly different, the fact still remains that keys are a menace. One trouble, as I mentioned is the recognition of the right key. The other problem, which is even worse is that people tend to forget their keys. Some smart people have devised their own strategies to deal with this: some have the key bunch in a tight-band around the neck, making others wonder if they were on a leash; some others have their key bunch tagged to a heavy metal safety-pin, which almost looks like a weapon. And these days, with heightened security one may not go past the parking area of the airports with this huge weapon. One of my friends came up with a clever solution, which is to hook his key bunch to the pants. His logic is that he is less likely to forget his pants than his keys. It worked at least for as long as I shared office space with him, and I am really really happy about it.
With so much troubles attached to it, sometimes I wish I could open the door by just uttering, `open sesame`. For the rent I pay for my apartment, I frankly do not think finger printing combined a retinal scan is an economically viable solution for opening the doors!!
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Chef's speciality !
While food for survival has to be modestly content at the bottom of the Maslow's hierarchy of needs, the enriched quality of the experience of eating definitely shoots for the highest level. I have never been a fast-food person, but equally less are my experiences with eating at really fancy restaurants. When I am invited to one of these, I definitely need an invitation as I would never go to such a place all alone, I usually end up getting lost in confusion. The confusion starts with "what's good to wear?" This is not for so much for myself, as much it is with the consideration of not embarrassing my host. Once in the restaurant, the mannerisms of the waiters bowl me over. First thing is the warm reception leading up to the dining table, full of a knifes and forks of all sizes, enough of weapons to rob a person. I never know which one to use for what. Then following this warm reception is the kindling of the romance on the table by lighting a candle. Ok, ok, just in case one got lost in the ambience and the dinner this romance resurfaces at the end as an additional 3 to 5 euros at the end of the bill for the table cloth and the candle.
But none of this really disturbs me much. I am a bold man, or at least until I see the menu card. The names of the dishes can be get really exotic to the point of hiding about their true identity. And then, on top of it, given the extraordinary culinary skills of the Chefs, the menu card might flaunt them by add what is called "Chef's speciality" to the list.
"If you really want the most authentic experience of this restaurant, you better pick this one", so thought a very wise friend of mine when he was at a fancy Italian restaurant in town not too far from Venice.
He had to pick between "polenta e manzo (polenta and beef)" or "mi sorprende (surprise me)". He decided to be a little adventurous and chose the "surprise me" option. From a pan of sauce with a huge fire under it delivered hot at the table to a plant brought all the way with its roots and, even better with the pot - nothing would have surprised him as much as the delivered dish "polenta e manzo" did. That's right the surprise was that there was no surprise. Clever ha??
Then there was a time when I went for an interview in New York. With the process going the whole day, this corporate was generous enough to offer me a lunch, with one of their team members who would show me the local experience. Although the thought that I could possibly be judged at the time of eating was a little disconcerting, I decided to shed my inhibitions at lunch, and eat to last for the rest of the day. Great. I was taken to the fancy restaurant which was recently opened by one of the famous Chefs in New York. Excellent. But after ordering two main courses - one a 100 ml of soup barely enough to wet your mouth, and the other a salad with 4 small cabbage leaves, one beetroot of the size of an egg, two walnuts and a cashew, I really wondered if quality was that much more important than quantity. I did not know the answer for it, but with the gut feeling that felt pride was over rated, I finished up all the crumbs of bread given to my interviewer.
The most recent one in my list of experiences is a dinner at an Italian Zen restaurant in Milano. "Italian Zen? Well, let's give it a shot." I was optimistic. The names of the dishes sounded like poetry, even better like ancient eastern wisdom. As one of my friends usually remarks, the distribution of the Chef's creativity between cooking and naming might be a little unbalanced in such cases. The usual suspects "Reaching equilibrium, natural state, tranquility, awakening, enlightenment .. " took the names of about 29 out of the 30 dishes, while the special spot was reserved for the dish called "waiting for Obama". He might be the Messiah with the power to change the current socio-economic situation, but does that entitle him for that one spot in the 30 dishes? May be yes. But I decided to put an end not just to the economic crisis, but to all the problems of humanity in general, and gave a greedy shot at the dish called "enlightenment". It was a very delicious soup of polenta, zucca, with fried artichokes, and the unlisted ingredient "a little bit of magic." Then I recalled the waiter and asked for the menu to check again what all went into it. In fact, "magic" was mentioned, not in words but in numbers, as the price of this high quality, very small sized dish which managed to whet my apetite for a real meal ! And then I also happened to notice the comment on the last page of the menu " .. the most important part of dining experience is the feeling the food leaves you with after you finish eating."
Anyways, finally I began to see the Zen aspect of the restaurant. I am not enlightened I am still my stupid old self, but they definitely filled me with nothingness.
But none of this really disturbs me much. I am a bold man, or at least until I see the menu card. The names of the dishes can be get really exotic to the point of hiding about their true identity. And then, on top of it, given the extraordinary culinary skills of the Chefs, the menu card might flaunt them by add what is called "Chef's speciality" to the list.
"If you really want the most authentic experience of this restaurant, you better pick this one", so thought a very wise friend of mine when he was at a fancy Italian restaurant in town not too far from Venice.
He had to pick between "polenta e manzo (polenta and beef)" or "mi sorprende (surprise me)". He decided to be a little adventurous and chose the "surprise me" option. From a pan of sauce with a huge fire under it delivered hot at the table to a plant brought all the way with its roots and, even better with the pot - nothing would have surprised him as much as the delivered dish "polenta e manzo" did. That's right the surprise was that there was no surprise. Clever ha??
Then there was a time when I went for an interview in New York. With the process going the whole day, this corporate was generous enough to offer me a lunch, with one of their team members who would show me the local experience. Although the thought that I could possibly be judged at the time of eating was a little disconcerting, I decided to shed my inhibitions at lunch, and eat to last for the rest of the day. Great. I was taken to the fancy restaurant which was recently opened by one of the famous Chefs in New York. Excellent. But after ordering two main courses - one a 100 ml of soup barely enough to wet your mouth, and the other a salad with 4 small cabbage leaves, one beetroot of the size of an egg, two walnuts and a cashew, I really wondered if quality was that much more important than quantity. I did not know the answer for it, but with the gut feeling that felt pride was over rated, I finished up all the crumbs of bread given to my interviewer.
The most recent one in my list of experiences is a dinner at an Italian Zen restaurant in Milano. "Italian Zen? Well, let's give it a shot." I was optimistic. The names of the dishes sounded like poetry, even better like ancient eastern wisdom. As one of my friends usually remarks, the distribution of the Chef's creativity between cooking and naming might be a little unbalanced in such cases. The usual suspects "Reaching equilibrium, natural state, tranquility, awakening, enlightenment .. " took the names of about 29 out of the 30 dishes, while the special spot was reserved for the dish called "waiting for Obama". He might be the Messiah with the power to change the current socio-economic situation, but does that entitle him for that one spot in the 30 dishes? May be yes. But I decided to put an end not just to the economic crisis, but to all the problems of humanity in general, and gave a greedy shot at the dish called "enlightenment". It was a very delicious soup of polenta, zucca, with fried artichokes, and the unlisted ingredient "a little bit of magic." Then I recalled the waiter and asked for the menu to check again what all went into it. In fact, "magic" was mentioned, not in words but in numbers, as the price of this high quality, very small sized dish which managed to whet my apetite for a real meal ! And then I also happened to notice the comment on the last page of the menu " .. the most important part of dining experience is the feeling the food leaves you with after you finish eating."
Anyways, finally I began to see the Zen aspect of the restaurant. I am not enlightened I am still my stupid old self, but they definitely filled me with nothingness.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
vend it out
Life gets busier by the day, not because I do a lot of things, but I think of doing a lot of things and never work towards them. Leaving the reasons for this alone, any advancement in technology, that generously accommodates my laziness fits-in snugly into my life. One of them is refrigerator, which allows me to cook once every black moon (or new moon as some may call it) and the other is its companion, microwave owen. I used to worship these until I found at my university in California, a machine that vends burritos at any time of the day! I was so happy with the discovery that I could get the burritos even past midnight! That was nice. My awareness of vending machines extended from 'B'urritos. My loyalty to the family of vending machines grew with time as I saw different kinds of machines selling daily essentials, the names of most of them starting with C - chips, chocolates, cigarettes among other things like .. (recollecting ..) .. coffee, coke .. and it does not take a big stretch of imagination to extend the list alphabetically ..
When I drank successfully a cup of coffee from a vending machine, my Italian friend said I was ready for a space travel. I was not surprised to hear that - in case of space travel with a noble cause, which involves getting sealed inside a capsule which is barely bigger than a luxury car, away from any human contact and even one's own weight because of the gravity for over a month, one thing Italians would miss is a nice handmade coffee. Anyways, I am no connoisseur, just lazy and looking for practical solutions.
Just to sound a little bit more educated, I can name that even newspapers are vended by these machines. When I saw a vending machine in the Repubblica train station in Milan, I was taken by surprise. This wonderful machine vends books !! It is a nice way to encourage reading. Staying away from printed media is very high on the list of my lazy habits. If these books were in english in stead of in Italian, I would have nevertheless bought one of them irrespective of whether I liked it, just to boost the morale of the machine. Until I saw this machine, looks like I subconsciously believed that there were limits to the applicability of these omnipotent machines, but not any more .. !
When I drank successfully a cup of coffee from a vending machine, my Italian friend said I was ready for a space travel. I was not surprised to hear that - in case of space travel with a noble cause, which involves getting sealed inside a capsule which is barely bigger than a luxury car, away from any human contact and even one's own weight because of the gravity for over a month, one thing Italians would miss is a nice handmade coffee. Anyways, I am no connoisseur, just lazy and looking for practical solutions.
Just to sound a little bit more educated, I can name that even newspapers are vended by these machines. When I saw a vending machine in the Repubblica train station in Milan, I was taken by surprise. This wonderful machine vends books !! It is a nice way to encourage reading. Staying away from printed media is very high on the list of my lazy habits. If these books were in english in stead of in Italian, I would have nevertheless bought one of them irrespective of whether I liked it, just to boost the morale of the machine. Until I saw this machine, looks like I subconsciously believed that there were limits to the applicability of these omnipotent machines, but not any more .. !
what you see is what you pay !
As soon as I see something that might qualify for a partially interesting buy, I reach for the price tag. I had been a student all my life and it is a very natural instinct that I developed for self preservation. But it took me a while, a very long while, to realize that what you see is not what you pay !!
In the beginning I used to think that in the US, what you see is what you pay, up to the accuracy of the last penny. This might over load your pocket with lots of copper coins that you carry around, but I did not consider that a problem. Then I discovered the time of a "sale" which is like the harvesting time for a consumer - time to reap all the goodies. "up to 75% off", advertise some of the stores. The "up to" is in font size 5, while the 75% is at size 20?? Which generally means they may have one useless piece in the store which qualifies for a huge discount to the point of being free, but most others that a sane person would buy will be up to 25-30 % off. Not a bad deal nevertheless, ha? And there is a wonderful policy in the US - mail-in-rebate. Mail-in-rebate is a cunning cousin of the "sale" option. If you thought that with the careful choice of the fonts, the advertising for the sale is already deceitful, mail in rebate is worse. You buy the product today, for the full price, and if you can mail the rebate form in a 2 week window exactly 6 months after the purchase, you get back a decent fraction of the amount you paid. There are no catches in this offer. But the sellers count on one of the most unfailing faculties of humans - the inability to remember the exact date of purchase and the potential savings of $20 for 6 months. And usually the trick works!
In India, there are at least two kinds of places where one can buy the goods. One is in a street side shop, where you can lay hands on the dreams of a noted designer materialized as a wrist watch, a handbag or whatever else it may be, for just a couple of dollars equivalent. It may not work as the original should, but as long as it does, you can flaunt off your fancy replicas of imported products. In this market of fair trade, the marked prices mean nothing. With the indicated prices going up to ten times what you could buy them for, the prices are meant more for confusing the customer than for suggesting its worth. The rule of the game - haggle. This is a tricky game of psychology. After hearing the outrageous value attached to the goods, let's say you quote a price which is 50% more than its worth. The vendor immediately hands the item to you with a smirk that indicates his success. To be on the safer side, if you quote a price that is possibly lower than its worth, you will be embarrassed by the eyes of the seller which ask you, "are you sure you want to buy this, or just wasting my time?" in the best case and "may be you can not afford it, get away" in most other cases. I can not afford the designer brands, but the replicas, sure I can. So, to be a winner in this game, one needs to master the art of haggling by achieving the delicate balance between the price you end up paying and the worth of ones own self esteem.
The other places for shopping are luxury goods, could even be imported goods from other countries. (I just recreated a famous Bushism involuntarily: "most of our imports are from other countries". I decided not to correct my sentence as a tribute to the ex-Prez). The game of haggling here is a little bit more subtle, or respectable if one would prefer to describe it so. These places are usually small businesses, where one would deal directly with the owner of the store. When you reach the point of billing, ready to pay cash to the owner, you would ask him "is there a discount?. I heard the New year sale was still going on here in your store" (if its after february, you would appropriately use the name of the holiday which happened either in the past one month, or is approaching in another month). The owners are usually sympathetic, and they would offer you some discount usually, 5%, 10% or whatever makes them leaves them at ease. They might also say, "if you do not ask for a receipt, you could save 5% more)." It's certainly a gentleman's agreement. He sells and you buy, why bring the middle man, called the government in between to take the taxes?
Talking of taxes, Switzerland is a tax paradise. Everything is fair here. No need to haggle. And on top of it, there is no sales tax. In the first month of my stay in this wonderful country, I went shopping and had a bill for a perfect 100 Franks. I was so happy to see the exact number, without an adulteration by the 8.25% sales tax. I even wanted to preserve the receipt. But with a host of items in the bill, that were not-so-respectable for a public display, I trashed it immediately. But wait a minute, if there is no sales tax on the food at restaurants, how would one tip in the restaurants. That was a big puzzle for me after my first restaurant meal in Switzerland. This usually an unspoken tax, or tip as some may call it, is 16-20% (the generosity of the customer depends upon whose honored company our host is in). If it is 16%, the usual trick in California is to double the tax in the bill given to you, unless one wants to use the fancy "tip calculator" built in their cell phones. With this confusion about the tip, I was a little worried about the manner of the delivery of food, next time I went to the same restaurant. But as the code in Europe goes, it is just enough to drop in a couple of euros as a thanks. It need not be associated to a significant percentage of the amount on the bill. Although food is higly-over-priced in Switzerland (as are most other items), I still appreciate their sense of tipping which does not leave your experience at the restaurant with an unpleasant aftertaste.
In the beginning I used to think that in the US, what you see is what you pay, up to the accuracy of the last penny. This might over load your pocket with lots of copper coins that you carry around, but I did not consider that a problem. Then I discovered the time of a "sale" which is like the harvesting time for a consumer - time to reap all the goodies. "up to 75% off", advertise some of the stores. The "up to" is in font size 5, while the 75% is at size 20?? Which generally means they may have one useless piece in the store which qualifies for a huge discount to the point of being free, but most others that a sane person would buy will be up to 25-30 % off. Not a bad deal nevertheless, ha? And there is a wonderful policy in the US - mail-in-rebate. Mail-in-rebate is a cunning cousin of the "sale" option. If you thought that with the careful choice of the fonts, the advertising for the sale is already deceitful, mail in rebate is worse. You buy the product today, for the full price, and if you can mail the rebate form in a 2 week window exactly 6 months after the purchase, you get back a decent fraction of the amount you paid. There are no catches in this offer. But the sellers count on one of the most unfailing faculties of humans - the inability to remember the exact date of purchase and the potential savings of $20 for 6 months. And usually the trick works!
In India, there are at least two kinds of places where one can buy the goods. One is in a street side shop, where you can lay hands on the dreams of a noted designer materialized as a wrist watch, a handbag or whatever else it may be, for just a couple of dollars equivalent. It may not work as the original should, but as long as it does, you can flaunt off your fancy replicas of imported products. In this market of fair trade, the marked prices mean nothing. With the indicated prices going up to ten times what you could buy them for, the prices are meant more for confusing the customer than for suggesting its worth. The rule of the game - haggle. This is a tricky game of psychology. After hearing the outrageous value attached to the goods, let's say you quote a price which is 50% more than its worth. The vendor immediately hands the item to you with a smirk that indicates his success. To be on the safer side, if you quote a price that is possibly lower than its worth, you will be embarrassed by the eyes of the seller which ask you, "are you sure you want to buy this, or just wasting my time?" in the best case and "may be you can not afford it, get away" in most other cases. I can not afford the designer brands, but the replicas, sure I can. So, to be a winner in this game, one needs to master the art of haggling by achieving the delicate balance between the price you end up paying and the worth of ones own self esteem.
The other places for shopping are luxury goods, could even be imported goods from other countries. (I just recreated a famous Bushism involuntarily: "most of our imports are from other countries". I decided not to correct my sentence as a tribute to the ex-Prez). The game of haggling here is a little bit more subtle, or respectable if one would prefer to describe it so. These places are usually small businesses, where one would deal directly with the owner of the store. When you reach the point of billing, ready to pay cash to the owner, you would ask him "is there a discount?. I heard the New year sale was still going on here in your store" (if its after february, you would appropriately use the name of the holiday which happened either in the past one month, or is approaching in another month). The owners are usually sympathetic, and they would offer you some discount usually, 5%, 10% or whatever makes them leaves them at ease. They might also say, "if you do not ask for a receipt, you could save 5% more)." It's certainly a gentleman's agreement. He sells and you buy, why bring the middle man, called the government in between to take the taxes?
Talking of taxes, Switzerland is a tax paradise. Everything is fair here. No need to haggle. And on top of it, there is no sales tax. In the first month of my stay in this wonderful country, I went shopping and had a bill for a perfect 100 Franks. I was so happy to see the exact number, without an adulteration by the 8.25% sales tax. I even wanted to preserve the receipt. But with a host of items in the bill, that were not-so-respectable for a public display, I trashed it immediately. But wait a minute, if there is no sales tax on the food at restaurants, how would one tip in the restaurants. That was a big puzzle for me after my first restaurant meal in Switzerland. This usually an unspoken tax, or tip as some may call it, is 16-20% (the generosity of the customer depends upon whose honored company our host is in). If it is 16%, the usual trick in California is to double the tax in the bill given to you, unless one wants to use the fancy "tip calculator" built in their cell phones. With this confusion about the tip, I was a little worried about the manner of the delivery of food, next time I went to the same restaurant. But as the code in Europe goes, it is just enough to drop in a couple of euros as a thanks. It need not be associated to a significant percentage of the amount on the bill. Although food is higly-over-priced in Switzerland (as are most other items), I still appreciate their sense of tipping which does not leave your experience at the restaurant with an unpleasant aftertaste.
Thursday, 8 January 2009
Caro Babbo Natale !!
.. the killer words that won me a grand gift. As I mentioned in my previous entry on x-mas, Babbo Natale is the Italian version of the american Santa Claus. I was talking to my friends at lunch today and mentioned that I got a gift from the Santa Claus. My friend started telling me that her son also got one. I was so excited to compare the gifts. Apparently the one he got was a fancy microscope, while mine was some kind of a poor man's version of it.
I asked her "so how did he get it?"
"well, upon my son's reminder I left a note outside my door for Babbo Natale, and next morning we found the gift in the balcony.."
"really?? You get a gift just by leaving a note outiside?? And so quick?? For me it was a longer procedure .. .. " I continued with all the excitement that revealed my childishness, innocence, naivety, stupidity, immaturity, or whatever one may call it depending on how much they like me.
"yeah, but the kid was slightly disappointed that while Babbo Natale did his duty, Santa Claus failed on him .. (Babbo and Santa are essentially two names from the same person)" she continued with a pause "I can only buy so much .."
At this point I could not hide my smile, which after filling my heart with the happiness that "I, and O-N-L-Y--I, was the proud recipient of the gift from the R-E-A-L Santa", narrowly escaped from my lips in a focused beam (I tried reading some poetry lately, x-mas break was a bit boring). Without further ado I told them about the gift I got, a little magnifying glass with several embedded lenses, which gives it the look of a kaleidoscope. And also told them about the letter I received from him. As is the problem that many great people face, no one was willing to believe me. I had to show them the gift and the letter before I could silence them in a wide gape.
Subconsciously drawing some inspiration from Calvin and his dear friend Hobbes who always write to Santa Claus with a big wish list, I sent a letter written to Santa Claus "Caro Babbo Natale (Dear Santa Claus) .. ". With a friend's help, I wrote this letter in Italian. What I did not realize then was that I could get a much longer reply in Italian (any way, that's a trouble for later). I mentioned that I was a good boy in 2008 and expected my reward. Sealed the envelope tightly, wrote my complete address at the back, and at the front wrote "To, Babbo Natale". I was a little too shy to show this letter in the postoffice for asking for the stamps.
"Can I please get stamps for 3 Franks please?" I added two 'please's in the sentence so that they would not bother me.
"What would you need it for, Sir" the lady at the postoffice counter asked me picking up the uncertainty in my voice over the stamps I would need. I should not have used those 2 'please's, she knew I was upto something.
Being a little secretive about my plans, I carried another envelope as a decoy. I showed it to her and asked for the right amount of stamps that I would need to send a letter similar to this ..
".. but to where? I mean which country?" the cashier in the counter asked me. Couldn't she just S T O P asking me these SILLY questions? Come on, but I can not get angry. After all,this is probably going to be the last recorded event for the year before Santa makes his decision. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. I couldn't say north pole. Could I?? I stammered and said "S w i t z e r l a n d". Before uttering every syllable, I was thinking may be I should tell her the true destination. Finally I took twice the number of stamps needed for sending it within Switzerland. Stuck the stamps on my envelope with no address but the recipient's name, and dropped it in the mailbox. In US, over paid stamps and lack of complete address usually raises suspicions about the security of handling the letter. At least that is what a note sent out in our university said ".. in you case you see such a letter, be warned that it could be an attack on the university".
The second day after it I looked up my mailbox to see if the letter would be returned back to me for want of complete address. Third day .. Fourth day .. I did not get any letter. One day I saw a lot of Russian candies keeping a hand written note safe in place on my desk. The note, allegedly from Santa, mentioned my work in science, my good deeds, and then finally when I was about to believe it it said " .. but you did not buy a X-mas gift to your Russian friend". I knew it who the 'Santa' here was. You see I am a little grown up to be fooled this way. It was kind of him anyway, but it's not the same thrill as hearing from Santa. X-mas and even the new year's day went by. Finally the work week started and I forgot about all that happened. But to my surprise, I found a colorful envelope with a card and a magnifying kaleidoscope!! Hurray .. !! But was it an act of mischief by one of my friends?? Could not be. The card had a very long letter (in Italian, now I wish I sent my letter in english) about Gesu Bambino and was signed off by Babbo Natale.
The letter was from Bern. So, now I am glad I did not send my letter to the north pole. I know Santa does not live there, or at least in winter he prefers being on the ski slopes of Switzerland, or is it from the UN head quarters in Geneva that he operates normally?? As it is clear, after I received my very well deserved gift I had more questions than answers .. but these questions are satisfying in their own way.
(thanks to the Swiss postal department for the gift. If they had not put their big fat logo on the back of the card inside the envelope, I would have definitely thought it was by one of my friends. Once again thanks for making my day !!)
I asked her "so how did he get it?"
"well, upon my son's reminder I left a note outside my door for Babbo Natale, and next morning we found the gift in the balcony.."
"really?? You get a gift just by leaving a note outiside?? And so quick?? For me it was a longer procedure .. .. " I continued with all the excitement that revealed my childishness, innocence, naivety, stupidity, immaturity, or whatever one may call it depending on how much they like me.
"yeah, but the kid was slightly disappointed that while Babbo Natale did his duty, Santa Claus failed on him .. (Babbo and Santa are essentially two names from the same person)" she continued with a pause "I can only buy so much .."
At this point I could not hide my smile, which after filling my heart with the happiness that "I, and O-N-L-Y--I, was the proud recipient of the gift from the R-E-A-L Santa", narrowly escaped from my lips in a focused beam (I tried reading some poetry lately, x-mas break was a bit boring). Without further ado I told them about the gift I got, a little magnifying glass with several embedded lenses, which gives it the look of a kaleidoscope. And also told them about the letter I received from him. As is the problem that many great people face, no one was willing to believe me. I had to show them the gift and the letter before I could silence them in a wide gape.
Subconsciously drawing some inspiration from Calvin and his dear friend Hobbes who always write to Santa Claus with a big wish list, I sent a letter written to Santa Claus "Caro Babbo Natale (Dear Santa Claus) .. ". With a friend's help, I wrote this letter in Italian. What I did not realize then was that I could get a much longer reply in Italian (any way, that's a trouble for later). I mentioned that I was a good boy in 2008 and expected my reward. Sealed the envelope tightly, wrote my complete address at the back, and at the front wrote "To, Babbo Natale". I was a little too shy to show this letter in the postoffice for asking for the stamps.
"Can I please get stamps for 3 Franks please?" I added two 'please's in the sentence so that they would not bother me.
"What would you need it for, Sir" the lady at the postoffice counter asked me picking up the uncertainty in my voice over the stamps I would need. I should not have used those 2 'please's, she knew I was upto something.
Being a little secretive about my plans, I carried another envelope as a decoy. I showed it to her and asked for the right amount of stamps that I would need to send a letter similar to this ..
".. but to where? I mean which country?" the cashier in the counter asked me. Couldn't she just S T O P asking me these SILLY questions? Come on, but I can not get angry. After all,this is probably going to be the last recorded event for the year before Santa makes his decision. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. I couldn't say north pole. Could I?? I stammered and said "S w i t z e r l a n d". Before uttering every syllable, I was thinking may be I should tell her the true destination. Finally I took twice the number of stamps needed for sending it within Switzerland. Stuck the stamps on my envelope with no address but the recipient's name, and dropped it in the mailbox. In US, over paid stamps and lack of complete address usually raises suspicions about the security of handling the letter. At least that is what a note sent out in our university said ".. in you case you see such a letter, be warned that it could be an attack on the university".
The second day after it I looked up my mailbox to see if the letter would be returned back to me for want of complete address. Third day .. Fourth day .. I did not get any letter. One day I saw a lot of Russian candies keeping a hand written note safe in place on my desk. The note, allegedly from Santa, mentioned my work in science, my good deeds, and then finally when I was about to believe it it said " .. but you did not buy a X-mas gift to your Russian friend". I knew it who the 'Santa' here was. You see I am a little grown up to be fooled this way. It was kind of him anyway, but it's not the same thrill as hearing from Santa. X-mas and even the new year's day went by. Finally the work week started and I forgot about all that happened. But to my surprise, I found a colorful envelope with a card and a magnifying kaleidoscope!! Hurray .. !! But was it an act of mischief by one of my friends?? Could not be. The card had a very long letter (in Italian, now I wish I sent my letter in english) about Gesu Bambino and was signed off by Babbo Natale.
The letter was from Bern. So, now I am glad I did not send my letter to the north pole. I know Santa does not live there, or at least in winter he prefers being on the ski slopes of Switzerland, or is it from the UN head quarters in Geneva that he operates normally?? As it is clear, after I received my very well deserved gift I had more questions than answers .. but these questions are satisfying in their own way.
(thanks to the Swiss postal department for the gift. If they had not put their big fat logo on the back of the card inside the envelope, I would have definitely thought it was by one of my friends. Once again thanks for making my day !!)
Thursday, 1 January 2009
merry x-mas
Usually busy little streets in the city center becoming even busier with the Christmas markets with lots of local businessmen selling overpriced goods from small tents .. Beautifully lit streets coming to life, grand Christmas trees with all the wonderful ornaments in most of the busy crossings, little 2 foot stuffed Santa Claus hanging outside the chimneys of houses trying to sneak their way in .. you know what I am talking about .. Christmas. You know it is around the corner without even looking up your calendar. The day of dead calm in the city following these days of storm is the day of Christmas. And sprinkle a little bit of snow in the early hours of the X-mas day and the romantic description of the day reaches its pinnacle with it.
The family aspect of Christmas is great. A nice occasion for reunion with friends and families. I wish all the people met with their folks on this marvelous occasion ..
And then the religious aspect. India, where I come from, is a secular country according to the constitution despite the fact that religions other than Hinduism are in a minority ( do not get me wrong that will still be a few hundreds of millions each for these, which is more than the population of many of the European countries). In my opinion the government of India decided to impose this secularism by removing the restrictions on the loudness of prayers a temple or a church or a mosque can utter. After hearing the prayers of Hindus all year round, it's finally the turn of the Christians to ramp up their amplifiers so that in case you have not reached your salvation by the year end, this is your final chance to take refuge in their faith. The prayers are a bit more modest in the west, confining themselves to a quiet mass inside a church. Walk into a church in the US, and they will ask you all sorts of questions on what your religious background is and whether you have been attending some of the other churches in the town (in US, with a little bit of an exaggeration, almost every street corner has a church which in some sense differs from the other ones in their beliefs .. besides the Catholics, there are the Methodists, Presbyterians, .. and the list goes on). And of course there is the beautiful worship singing. If you attend a church on a Christmas day more out of curiosity, you might want to attend the candle light service on the Christmas eve. It is one of the most beautiful services I have seen in the US. It's a different story that I lost my bicycle when I went in for this service. First I thought it was the work of some needy person, but soon I realized it was the act of Hindu Gods. All the 3 million Hindu Gods, it is an open confession in a blog, I am still loyal to you. I was just curious .. ..
Here in Ticino, the more important the area of the city is the bigger is the Christmas tree. The tallest ones in the city center going up to 40 feet. These are so tall that in the early days of december you can see helicopters, something tells me the military ones, are used to chug these tall trees to the destination. This roughly like the statues of Ganesha during august in India. The statues of cute Ganesha with a big dessert in his hand, can be as tall as 150 feet if you are in the big corner of the city. And then the trouble is in moving out of the place when the festivities are finished. They do not use a helicopter, as the real fun, and the religious meaning grow by moving the statue through in a procession through the streets .. ..
Last but not the least, the gifts. How much to spend, what to buy, where to buy, what might be the best way of achieving the price-satisfaction balance .. all these .. when you are young, the answer is easy. Santa comes all the way from the north pole to drop off your gifts late in the night. My friend tells me that his parents never encouraged the notion of Santa bringing the gifts, as they thought their hard earned money should not be accredited to "some looney who sneaks up the window in a creepy way". But for most kids, Santa is the hero. In the US, as I understand, it is Coca-cola which popularized Santa with his red-white uniform. While here in the Europe, it is Babbo Natale who does the job, some times replaced by Gesu bambino (baby Jesus). The most interesting observation for me is that in Europe babbo natale is literally the Christmas father, while in India and as I gather, even in Russia it is Christmas grandpa. Any way, by noting that this was the most interesting observation I already put my credibility at risk and my wisdom lies in stopping at this point with no more interesting this to note.
"Jesus saves .." as the Bible preaches. That hope, faith makes a lot of people happy during Christmas. For those whose faith still needs to be rooted a little bit more, Jesus definitely saves them from the last week of work in the year. That should be a reason enough to be happy !!!
The family aspect of Christmas is great. A nice occasion for reunion with friends and families. I wish all the people met with their folks on this marvelous occasion ..
And then the religious aspect. India, where I come from, is a secular country according to the constitution despite the fact that religions other than Hinduism are in a minority ( do not get me wrong that will still be a few hundreds of millions each for these, which is more than the population of many of the European countries). In my opinion the government of India decided to impose this secularism by removing the restrictions on the loudness of prayers a temple or a church or a mosque can utter. After hearing the prayers of Hindus all year round, it's finally the turn of the Christians to ramp up their amplifiers so that in case you have not reached your salvation by the year end, this is your final chance to take refuge in their faith. The prayers are a bit more modest in the west, confining themselves to a quiet mass inside a church. Walk into a church in the US, and they will ask you all sorts of questions on what your religious background is and whether you have been attending some of the other churches in the town (in US, with a little bit of an exaggeration, almost every street corner has a church which in some sense differs from the other ones in their beliefs .. besides the Catholics, there are the Methodists, Presbyterians, .. and the list goes on). And of course there is the beautiful worship singing. If you attend a church on a Christmas day more out of curiosity, you might want to attend the candle light service on the Christmas eve. It is one of the most beautiful services I have seen in the US. It's a different story that I lost my bicycle when I went in for this service. First I thought it was the work of some needy person, but soon I realized it was the act of Hindu Gods. All the 3 million Hindu Gods, it is an open confession in a blog, I am still loyal to you. I was just curious .. ..
Here in Ticino, the more important the area of the city is the bigger is the Christmas tree. The tallest ones in the city center going up to 40 feet. These are so tall that in the early days of december you can see helicopters, something tells me the military ones, are used to chug these tall trees to the destination. This roughly like the statues of Ganesha during august in India. The statues of cute Ganesha with a big dessert in his hand, can be as tall as 150 feet if you are in the big corner of the city. And then the trouble is in moving out of the place when the festivities are finished. They do not use a helicopter, as the real fun, and the religious meaning grow by moving the statue through in a procession through the streets .. ..
Last but not the least, the gifts. How much to spend, what to buy, where to buy, what might be the best way of achieving the price-satisfaction balance .. all these .. when you are young, the answer is easy. Santa comes all the way from the north pole to drop off your gifts late in the night. My friend tells me that his parents never encouraged the notion of Santa bringing the gifts, as they thought their hard earned money should not be accredited to "some looney who sneaks up the window in a creepy way". But for most kids, Santa is the hero. In the US, as I understand, it is Coca-cola which popularized Santa with his red-white uniform. While here in the Europe, it is Babbo Natale who does the job, some times replaced by Gesu bambino (baby Jesus). The most interesting observation for me is that in Europe babbo natale is literally the Christmas father, while in India and as I gather, even in Russia it is Christmas grandpa. Any way, by noting that this was the most interesting observation I already put my credibility at risk and my wisdom lies in stopping at this point with no more interesting this to note.
"Jesus saves .." as the Bible preaches. That hope, faith makes a lot of people happy during Christmas. For those whose faith still needs to be rooted a little bit more, Jesus definitely saves them from the last week of work in the year. That should be a reason enough to be happy !!!
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