Almost Back Home

I'm almost back at the white wooden house. It's 4am and I'm sitting in bed in a hotel somewhere in Jamaica, New York eating left over Chinese and blogging and hoping to get on a flight to Austin later today.

I'm not complaining. I hate not seeing Jo and the kids for another whole day. It took Vasco Do Gama 23 months to sail from Portugal around Africa to Calicut. And Columbus about 35 days to get from Spain to what he thought was India but turned out to be modern day Bahamas. The capable pilots of Etihad did that in about a day and the 787 Dreamliner, even in cattle car class, was a good deal more comfortable than the Pinta. And that final hop from New York to Austin - at the speed of the Pony Express, it would take me about 10 days of riding day and night at full gallop.

So after dropping off the kids and Jo at London for their trip back to Austin, I left for India. On that flight I had one of those small world moments. Four year ago when we lived in an apartment in Hyderabad, there was a Hyderabadi man, Asif Mirza, who owned an apartment on the top floor with his English wife. When they visited from abroad, Savitri, our maid, insisted that we meet them because "hamara memsahib" (Jo) is also from "London". The lady sitting next to me on the Abu Dhabi - Hyderabad flight was that English wife. Her husband had died a couple of years ago and she was returning to take care of his property. She recognized me.

I too was in Hyderabad for a similar reason - to take care of my dad's property. But visiting Hyderabad is always fun. I met friends, went to the Secunderabad Club, attended parties where I didn't know the host, and ate more food in ten days than I should eat in a month. On the holiest of the Dusshera days, Sharath, Sahiti and I went to Key's High School in Secunderabad to see the Poojo. Things have gotten grander in four decades but the scene inside was as I remember it as a child. A huge dusty pile of shoes and sandals outside. Bangalis of all ages and sizes dressed up. Drummers working themselves to a frenzy. The sweet smell of incense and burning ghee. And Durga standing on her lion as it shreds Mahisasur, the demon and his alternate form, the poor buffalo, while Durga pierces his heart with one of her ten weapons held in her ten arms. She is a mixture of violent ferocity and divine serenity - the original diva.

Next morning is Bijoy Doshomi, the 10th day - the day for new beginnings. As a child I remember everyone at home getting new clothes. Because we wore uniforms to school, we didn't really need a lot of regular clothes. Often this was the only time my dad got us new clothes - which in the late 70's meant a dress shirt with huge collars and a nice pair of bell bottoms that flared out to completely hide my shoes. This year, Sahiti bought new clothes for Sharath and me. Very nice but not bell bottoms.

On the weekend I went to Delhi. Here we are at Arjun's home where I used to stay in Delhi back when there were no direct international flights to Hyderabad. Coincidentally and not noticed till later, Arjun's photo on the shelf is smiling with us. In the next photo I'm with Surjeet Aunty, Arjun's mother and Simran's grandma. at a Chinese restaurant in the M-Block market where I met the whole family for lunch.

Over an excellent lunch (thanks for a great selection, Shaunak) Guri Uncle asked me very seriously "Arun, are you spiritual?". I thought through my answer rather carefully. I am speaking to a man who lost his only son in a freak cycling accident ten years ago. Is this going to lead to questions about Arjun's spirit? Finally I say guardedly "Guri Uncle, I'm an atheist".

"So you don't believe in God", he replies. I nod.
"But you are still spiritual", he continues.
"There is spirit in beer and vodka and gin" and he points to our drinks.

I should never take him seriously.

I make some progress with my dad's stuff in Hyderabad. While going through some old photos in my free time I found this photo of my dad from his birthday in December 2012. Miguel had shown up one day at home with very short hair. My dad said that he wanted his hair short too. I gave him a close haircut and trimmed back his normally bushy mustache. It was his last birthday.

While I am traveling, Jo and Vivian and Evan are settling back into a normal school week in Austin. Except that they are all in bed by 7pm and awake at 5am. They are in full swing with soccer and Taekwondo and dance and drama and went to the Thinkery for Magellan's Family Fun Day - here's a photo of the Mad Science lady doing something with Vivian and friends.

Crazy is apparently glad to have them back home. Jo sent me a photo of a decapitated mouse at the front door and a mouse head that was puked up later. I won't post the photo here but my wife should become a war photographer.

Can't wait to see all the crazies back at the white wooden house. As soon as Jet Blue gets those ponies saddled.

Saturday

It's our last full day in London. No bacon sandwiches today either. Instead we met Simran outside the Waterloo tube station and walked across the street to a small but amazing Saturday outdoor food market. Pop-up tents and a couple of food trucks in the parking lot of the National Theater. We walked around and the kids got fresh juices - some combination of fruits and mint. Simran got coffee. Jo bought a cronut (a crosaint donut), I bought a large number of very nice cookies, and Vivian talked a vendor out if a bowl of olives for a paltry 30 pence. In the second photo you can see her working through the olives while carrying her "wand".

Simran showed us around Southbank a bit and then we retreated underground to catch a tube to Baker Street. At some point we passed a poster for Kinky Boots and all three of the young ones posed. Backstory - in long escalator rides up and down tube station all over London you see posters and ads for plays and musicals. Vivian saw about a hundred and gravitated towards Kinky Boots. In most posters (though not this one where he's a fuzzy helmeted royal guard) a bobby is portrayed in gray tones supporting thigh high lace-up red glittering boots. Vivian asked why a male policeman was dressed like that. I said "Why not?". And she said "Awkward". But it continued to intrigue her.

We passed the afternoon lazing at my friend's home near Baker Street (the kids veged in front of a TV in another room). Rani made us aloo parathas. Evan wasn't having any of that but Vivian put away a few.

Simran and us spent the evening waiting in line back at Masala Zone near Covent Gardens. After a very good dinner we took a cab back to the hotel and I walked Sinran to her digs. 

Next morning we woke up hours before our usual time and took a cab to Heathrow. I saw Jo and Evan and Vivian off at the Virgin gates and before I arrived to my terminal for my flight to Abu Dhabi Jo had sent me a photo of the kids munching on bacon sandwiches. A little bit later I boarded a cavernous Etihad Airways A380 and arrived in Hyderabd on Monday morning to see Sharath and Sahiti's smiling faces at the airport. By then it was Sunday night in Austin and the kids were fast asleep in their own beds back at the white wooden house and London was only a memory.

Friday

So it's Day Five in London and we finally get to see Simran today.

We skipped the bacon sandwich and met Simran outside the London Bridge tube station. The kids ran up and gave her a hug while Jo and I restrained ourselves to "air hugs" and we then wandered for a couple of hours through the most amazing Borough's Market. I could have eaten *everything*. Vegetables, mushrooms, cheeses, meats, fish, bread, wines and beer, fruits. I'd rather shop here than Whole Foods any day. I bought myself some mushroom pate and excellent bread and munched my way through the market.

Then we walked for a few minutes to a Gourmet Burger Kitchen where we fed our faces with burgers and fries and very nice shakes to recover from the walk. Followed by another walk up London bridge along the Thames Path to the London Tower where we arrived famished and replenished ourselves with Ben and Jerry's ice creams. Along the way we played "I spy". I suck at it. But it passes the time and stops Evan from asking me to carry him on my shoulders. Though it does make us look like a shifty eyed bunch as we suspiciously scan everything around us to find the object of the game, as you can see in these photos.

It was impossible to get Evan to pose for a photo - either he covers his face and darts away or he makes a gross/funny face. We didn't have time to take a Tower of London tour because we had tickets for a 5:30pm start at the Warner Brothers studio in Watford. Busy sightseers today.

So Simran went back to her studies and we caught the tube to Euston and then a train to Watford Junction, and finally a double decker shuttle bus to the studios. This is where most of all eight Harry Potter movies were made. It isn't a theme park or a Universal Studios type thing. It's more a museum of the artifacts and sets and costumes and creatures and models made for the movies. The cast members, especially the three main kids, Harry, Ron and Hermione lived and worked and studied here for 10 years - from their preteens till they were past 20. Vivian is into Harry Potter and Evan has been dragged along though he's probably a bit young for it. Everyone else there are grown-ups. People who probably grew up reading Potter at the times of their lives when they were younger but not any more.

In the picture where Evan appears to be sitting in a train, the window has been replaced by a screen and it is playing what you'd expect to see outside the Hogwarts Express as it wound it's way through Scotland. Then the dementors appear and frost freezes on the window and Harry faints. That's Vivian's head towards the bottom of the picture as she pretends to faint.

The place was pretty amazing. With full sized versions of the entrance to Hogwarts, the great hall, and platform 9 3/4 at Kings Cross. The locomotive and two carriages used to shoot the movie were moved here a few months ago. The kids attended spells classes, walked through the night bus and sat on Hagrid's motor bike. They also had movies made of them on mechanical brooms in a green screen and backgrounds were added in later. I'll add a clip or two from there when I get back to Austin.

By the time we made our way back to our hotel, it was another long fun filled day and a late night.

Thursday

We started our fourth day in London an hour or two earlier than normal but in the usual way (bacon sandwiches at EAT, walk to Southwark station) but then it took a different turn. Vivian's classmate's parents had recommended a bike tour from Fat Tire and so we took the tube to Queensway and waited at the corner of Bayswater Road and soon after 11am we were outfitted with bikes and helmets and we walked our bikes through the Black Gate into Kensington Gardens.

For the next four hours we biked and stopped and viewed and chatted through central London on our bikes. Vivian opted for control over speed. So she selected a smaller bike than she normally rides and she had to pedal hard on the single speed to keep up with us but she was great. Evan was in a "tag-along" (a trailer bike) attached to my seat post and we both felt that each of us did all the pedaling while the other got a free ride.

We rode through Kensington Gardens, stopped at Kensington Palace, past the Serpentine, crossed a couple of busy streets at Hyde Park Corner, through the Wellington Arch and along Green Park to Buckingham Palace. After a break we rode along the Mall under the Admiralty Arch and stopped for lunch at Trafalgar Square.

After lunch we biked along Horse Guards Road, past Downing Street (blocked off from traffic), the statue of Robert Clive (hero of the East India Company, colonial arsehole), the entrance to the Churchill War Rooms, down to Westminister Abbey. And then we rolled on down to Parliament Square where I took the photo of Vivian and Jo while Evan ran away screaming because he didn't want his photo taken. Vivian posed by the Gandhi statue. And next to the Churchill statue, our bike tour guide recounted a Churchill quote much to the delight of the non-Americans in the group "You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they've tried everything else". We retraced our paths from here, stopping briefly at the Prince Albert Memorial behind the Royal Albert Hall in Kensington Gardens and back to where we started.

After quick showers back at the hotel we had a great dinner at a restaurant that Jo found, the Masala Zone in the West End declared "the best restaurant in London" by the extremely famous and picky food critic Evan. From there we walked to the Cambridge Theater at Seven Dials (Dickens, Agatha Christie) to see Royal Shakespeare's Matilda The Musical. Tired as the kids were, they both enjoyed the show. I think Vivian who is learning her lines for a distant Mary Poppins show was amazed by the virtuosity of the child actors, specially the little girl who did a superb job as Matilda (a few days later Xi Jinping and the first lady of China were given a performance of one of the songs by the Matilda cast during their visit to London).

The final event of a rather busy day was a late night pedicab trip for the family from the West End to South Bank. I never dreamed that I would cross the Thames in a rickshaw before the Musi!