But it snowed...

It’s been snowing profusely since last night. It has in fact been snowing since last year. I had lived in Amsterdam and had the great pleasure of encountering snowfall and ice accumulation through the winter. I remember the morning in December that year, when I got up to a rather ‘white’ welcome by the world outside of our house. It was a spectacular scene to behold. The world I had kissed goodnight to before going to sleep had all the colors: green, red, blue and so on. And boy, when I woke up, wasn’t it all colored white by an expert painter? The green fields, the roads, the balcony looked all the same. The beautiful canal (something that makes the Netherlands as wonderful as it is) in front of the house had completely frozen, and I could see ducks ‘walking’ on the hard surface. Welcome break for ducks and swans who must have gotten tired of only swimming! The small plants we had on the balcony had all disappeared under snow. Cars parked under the open sky had disguised. I had never seen something quite like that. The next few days would be full of fun.

I lived right across the road from the office, and hence I didn’t have to worry about braving the cold and the snow to travel to office. I would simply walk to work. The office had all of a sudden taken up a different look. It was glowing white. Once in a while I would peep outside of the office window and enjoy the sight of the snowfall. My friends in office were kids all over again. We would step out to the open area and play with snow, throwing snowballs at each other. All inside the office premises! We would click photographs and post on Orkut. Facebook wasn’t that popular in India back in the day.

Few years on, I find myself again caught up in the middle of snow. More snow than I’d ever seen before. The lowest temperature recorded in Amsterdam that year is considered ‘normal’ here; even by me! As it is, I don’t share a great rapport with cold. It usually gets the better of me. But Cincinnati has been a whole new experience for me.

When I boarded the flight from Chicago as the third leg of my journey from Bangalore, I was reminded of Europe again, especially of the inter-country low-cost flying experiences. The aircraft was small and mine was the first seat. It was so close to the cockpit, I could tell you I flew the plane! There was only one flight attendant who had an aspiring tummy popping out of his white shirt. This guy had a great sense of humor and he repeatedly made us laugh with his on-the-air ‘flying’ jokes. He kept my laptop bag in his own custody, because I didn’t have anywhere else to dump it.

Little did I know when I landed at the Cincinnati airport that it was actually not in the state of Ohio, but in Kentucky, the place where KFC was born. I got a taxi to take me to my hotel (Extended Stay America) in Covington. Call it my ignorance, I believed for two days that I was staying in Ohio, until my friend told me it was Kentucky. I realized that when I saw the Ohio River that bifurcates the two states. I was staying in Kentucky and coming to Ohio for work.

Soon I moved to Blue Ash. I started getting used to living in cold conditions. When some parts of the United States witnessed the coldest winter in twenty years, Cincinnati was hit too. Temperatures dipped to as low as minus twenty five degrees Celsius! The killer wind coupled with that made it feel lot worse. That was early January. The weather has improved since then. 

I was born and raised in a hot and humid place. Except for the winters when it could get reasonably cold, Agartala feels like a pressure cooker. Bangalore has made me a less heat-resilient person, and I faced the brunt of it when I spent few days in Agartala last year, in June. The problem with scorching summers is that you can wear the least number of clothes, but you can’t strip in the open. Winter in a way is better; you can wear as much as you feel is necessary. What if you look like a bulky astronaut walking on the snow, you could still feel protected! 

My Europe Days - Chapter 1

One incentive of my job is that I get to go places, meet new people, learn new cultures, and make new friends. Getting to know the unknown, hearing the unheard and seeing the unseen is quite thrilling. We, after all, have one life alone to experience the unexperienced!

It dates back to an afternoon quite a few years ago, when my then manager asked me if I’d like to take up an assignment in Amsterdam. ‘Of course’ was my immediate reaction! I mean, just how could I say ‘no’ to something I always wanted to happen but had not until then? As my travel date drew closer, I’d get goose bumps visualizing myself in Europe. As an ardent reader since an early age, I’d read so much about the glorious history of Europe; I had so many times felt the rise and collapse of the Roman empire; I could feel myself close enough through imagination to some of the fiercest battles fought on the European soil. And I was going to fly out to that continent in few days. That was incredibly unbelievable. For me, it was not about the clean roads or the pollution-free air or the nice people; it was all about the experience I thought was waiting for me.

I had an option to choose between New Delhi and Mumbai for my visa stamping formality. For no obvious fault of New Delhi, I chose Mumbai, where I had a pleasant stay in a Santacruze hotel. I had a whole day and a rented Maruti Esteem car to explore Mumbai, a city where my ladylove (who later became my wife) was born. She had told me about the hospital she was born in; only if I could trace that! The chauffeur of the car was originally from Tamil Nadu who along with his father had migrated to Mumbai when he was very young. With a great deal of energy, he kept driving me across the city and showing me places he thought I must not miss. The Chatrapati Shivaji railway station looked iconic and beautiful. Nariman Point was quite an attractive place, and what added to the beauty of the view was the gentle and occasional drizzle. It was not like a typical hot Mumbai day, which is why I didn’t mind frequently stepping out of the air conditioned car. The Marine Drive was a thing of beauty. I spent most of time at the gateway of India. I was being hounded by a battery of photographers who were as if born only to click me in front of the Taj hotel. I finally obliged one of them. I had to admire the architectural beauty of the hotel and the gateway of India. The Arabian Sea was graciously calm and I was among hundreds of tourists and locals who were appreciating the rippling water. I had some great food for lunch at an uptown mall whose name I cannot recollect now.

I had a rather smooth run at the Dutch consular office later in the afternoon. I remember my father had to travel from Agartala to Khowai, my place of birth, to get a fresh birth certificate issued by the authorities. One of the mandatory documents for the visa grant was a birth certificate not older than six months. When my father finally got one done and couriered it to me, I saw my first birth certificate as an adult! The office was too small to accommodate the large number of visa aspirants that had queued up there. I met few fellow professionals from my city, Bangalore.

Even though I was a veteran of the domestic sky, my only experience flying along international skies was between Kolkata and Agartala when the aircraft must hop across Bangladesh. The office travel desk worked with me and decided an itinerary; I would fly Air France from Bangalore to Paris and KLM from Paris to Amsterdam. Paris! The fashion capital of the world, the romantic city was going to be my first touch-point in Europe. Boy, wasn’t I excited?

As I collected my boarding passes at the Bangalore International Airport, I felt myself closer to Europe. As I walked to the immigration officer, I realized I was holding a passport that was still virgin; one last time! Facebook had not become a phenomenon in India yet and I didn’t have an account either. No Facebook ‘check-in’ you see. I however had an Orkut account, which was precious as a pearl to me! 

My dream flight did take off. 

Soon I was flying. The aircraft was bigger than any I’d boarded till then. The cabin crew was polite, looking well after my comfort and dining needs. I was served good food and quality wine. Most of my fellow passengers were Indians; there were some Westerners too. Gradually, I realized a nine and half hour journey could feel longer than it was with limited leg room in the economy class and nobody to talk to. Most people were sleeping; as if they’d never slept before! I envied them because oversleeping was something I couldn’t do. I read in-flight magazines, learned about places, watched movies and documentaries.

As I stepped out of the aircraft and set my foot on the European soil, I was welcomed by the French summer. It lasted a minute or so until I got into the airport bus. I had few hours with me, good enough to explore the Charles de Gaulle airport before my connecting flight to Amsterdam would take off. I felt sorry for an old Indian lady who seemed lost in the airport while she confusedly searched for the right terminal or gate for her onward flight to somewhere in the United States. She was soon attended to by an airline official who would guide her. I quite liked the airport. What was most fascinating to me was that I found myself in a sea of people who looked diverse, spoke different languages, and wore a variety of clothes. I was witnessing my being amidst all of them. That made me feel great. The duty free line of shops had a good deal of collection of items worth falling for. I don’t remember buying anything from there perhaps because I knew I could soon travel from Amsterdam to Paris on a short trip and buy things I wanted to at a much lesser price. I was happy not to have given in to the lure of all things glossy.

My experience with the Air France ground staff was thoroughly unpleasant. I felt I was being discriminated against – may be due to my skin color – going by the way they spoke, looked at me, frisked me, and joked at me. It was clearly not standard operating procedure, not because of what they asked me to do, but how they asked. I remembered reading about some passengers’ experiences with Air France who called the airline racist! I wouldn’t say I faced racism, but those officials certainly didn’t know the basics of politeness, and they didn’t know how to talk to the customer!

I boarded a much smaller aircraft for the next leg of my journey. I was seated next to the emergency exit. A member of the KLM cabin crew approached me and few others from another seat and asked, ‘Do you all follow English?’ We nodded, to which she explained the customary things we should do in the unlikely event of an emergency. It seemed like an Indian domestic flight except that I could hardly find any Indians onboard. It was around mid-day, making sure I had a great aerial view of Paris after takeoff. A very short flight it was and I soon descended on the Netherlands. The Schiphol airport was going to be a place I’d come back to quite frequently in the next many months. 

Now it was time for the Dutch summer. 

(to be continued...)