In Transit at Frankfurt

When making long distance travel, the biggest hurdle is when there is overnight stay between the flights. Staying with a family is unnecessarily inconveniencing them and even though they are family, it is not my style to trouble them for pick-up from airport just for one night. Checking into the expensive hotels is the added expenditure, which is quite a waste if you do not enjoy the privilege of touring the place and the third option of spending the long night at the airport is draining off your energy with sleepless nights. Waiting in transit is no fun at all. I have tried all three and have not been happy with any of those options.

But, only once I remember, some few years ago, during my transit at Frankfurt, from Tenerife to Mumbai, it was a pleasant stay. There are thousands of hotels in Frankfurt and some at very reasonable rates, but when I am travelling alone, I am always scared to go to an unknown place in a strange city and that is why when my travel agent suggested that I stay with a family for a night with just € 60, I grabbed this opportunity.

I paid € 60 to my travel agent in Tenerife and I was told that the man in charge would come to pick me up from the airport. I arrived at Frankfurt airport at 5pm, not knowing whom to expect. One gentleman in late 60’s approached me and introduced himself as Mr. Advani. Most of my luggage was offloaded directly to Mumbai from Tenerife, so I had only a small hand-carry which he helped me carry to his car.

He drove me through the city, pointing out to important monuments on the street on route to his house. After an hour’s drive we reached his house where his wife gave me a warm welcome. They had a small apartment 3BHK and there were three more men in the room who were there to spend a night. Mrs. Advani offered me a cup of tea and asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with her to the supermarket. I went along, not wanting to sit with strangers in the room. On the way to the supermarket, I learnt that they had grown up children who had moved out and they were bored till they found this hospitality business of accommodating the transit passengers. Everyday, they had visitors from different parts of the world whom her hubby had to pick and drop them back to the airport and the woman cooked the meals for their guests. She also had a garment store in town which was not doing so well.

By the time, we returned from the supermarket, we were friends. I went to the kitchen with her and together we cooked meals. (not that she asked my help, but I cannot sit idle if somebody is busy) Unfortunately, she had no helper at home, so besides helping her with cooking, I also helped her wash dishes and set the table. She was quick and efficient and within one hour, the dinning table was set with proper meals of Dhal, Rice, one vegetable, salad and snacks. The men were deep in conversation, sharing jokes and anecdotes, and when we entered the room, they included us into their conversation. They had Indian channels on TV but nobody was watching that.

The time passed quickly for us and also for that old couple who would have been lonely otherwise, but they were happy to hear our rant and it made them feel alive having found an audience to share their stories. They didn’t miss their family or their children who had moved out to the sunnier sides, they were happy that they were doing something worthwhile for themselves; they were offering a safe haven to the lone travelers. It was only for one night for us, but for them tomorrow would be another day with different set of transit passengers.

Since I was the only women in the group, she offered me a private room, which I could lock from inside while the other men shared the next room. Early next morning, after a hot cup of tea, Mr. Advani dropped me back to the airport just one hour before my departure time.

It was the most memorable and safe one-night stay in transit at Frankfurt.

Wooden Cane

Wooden cane carved from a single bambool stick

Thursday Challenge _ Wooden

EAT, European Art of Taste – Cookery Demonstration

When the table is set with your assorted favorite ingredients such as cheese, pasta, wine and olive oil, and if you wait long enough, you will be served Italian food and that too all free, because this is the Italian food festival presented by ‘European Art of Taste’  and you are their special guest.

When I got the invitation to attend the rich and savory cooking demonstration of Italian Food at ‘Nature Basket’,  Bandra,  I jumped to this opportunity, arriving 30 minutes before the demonstration was to begin. The Chef, Angelo Francini, a friendly young man was only too pleased to share his art, educating me about this program that is supported by the European Union and the Italian Government that aims to promote their products like pasta, cheese, sauces and wine into the Indian market with the promise that it guarantees quality, authenticity and the safety of the products.

The stage for demonstration was set in the inner area of the store, with one table laden with all the products like pasta of ‘Barilla’, extra virgin olive oil of brand ‘Monini’, Provolone cheese of certified origin (Valpadana) and assorted wine and pasta sauces. The main demonstration table was laden with all the ingredients that he would need, plus electric stove and microwave.

Within half an hour, the room was full of curious chefs/housewives/regular shoppers/photographers, all eager to pick up some culinary tips and give in their expert comments.

The demonstration started with what I would call it an ‘Italian salad’. (The Chef called it ‘Panzanella di verdure con bruschetta all’olio extra vergine di olive).

In a big plastic bowl, he mixed all the freshly chopped vegetables like carrots, celery, cucumber, bell peppers, fresh red tomatoes, rocket leaves. He roasted the chopped cubes of bread and added to the mixture. Added salt, pepper, olive oil and vinegar and it was now our turn to taste. The rich taste of olive into the mixture of veggies gave it a buttery sweet and sour taste and I was hungry for more.

The next dish was (Penne all’arrabbiata) he cooked on the electric twin-stove, boiling pasta on one stove and cooking the tomato sauce on the other. He added garlic, parsley, salt and pepper to the hot olive oil, mixed it and added tomato puree. After cooking for seven minutes, he added boiled pasta, and tossed them, mixing it well. Then added grated provolone valpadana cheese and then came the best part……Yes!!....You guessed it right….tasting! The tangy taste of tomato blended well with pastas, but I found pasta a wee bit hard, I normally prefer pastas to be softer and slippery.(so slippery that the minute they touch my lips, they go sliding down my throat, leaving behind the tangy taste)

The heat was slowly building up as vapors escaped from the pots and the sweet aroma of garlic and tomatoes flooded the room. Smacking our lips, we looked hungrily as he prepared the chicken dish; the small chunks of chicken breast, previously marinated with dry herbs for more than seven hours. He cooked the marinated chicken chunks in olive oil, seasoning it with salt and pepper and added eggplant (that was previously cooked with garlic and parsley), cooked them till chicken was tender and later garnished it with the cheese. The cooked eggplant, the melted stringy cheese and the chicken was good combination and was quite delightful to taste. The chicken was very tender and tasty although there were no chilies at all. (now, being an Indian, chilies is must for me otherwise I call this ‘phika’)

While he cooked on electric stove, his assistant baked in micro-oven some more dishes, there was toast (pancetta) with cheese topping, soaking in olive oil, and chicken topped with cooked eggplant and cheese too. And yes, one more thing, the finger food (they had forgotten to give as a welcome warm-up) made of baby-tomatoes, basil leaves and cheese on a tooth pick was the sudden but pleasant intrusion.

It was a grand feast, all in succession, one after the other; I was finding it difficult to concentrate on his cooking, so busy was I in eating (I mean ….tasting). I would have appreciated an additional glass of wine or a cup of coffee ….maybe that thought did not cross their mind....or…maybe….er…. wine is expensive? Ah well!!! But never mind

It was a fun evening and fully satiated, I walked down the narrow corridors of ‘Nature Basket' super market to pick up some of those Italian delicacies to be able to try few for my guests, who would appreciate this light meal with their evening cup of tea..

Oh yeah! One more thing!! I was happy because each one of us received one complimentary gift that contained apron, one badge, one booklet on ‘Guide to tasting and understanding ‘Extra Virgin Olive Oil’, and two chapbooks of Italian recipes.

*Look, can you see me boasting now?

Royal Massage on a Lazy Afternoon

Walking for two hours on a dusty road can be tiresome especially when the scenery around you is all shoes and clothes, sea of perspiring people and the noisy traffic. It is at such moments that a visit to an air-conditioned mall can bring relief (even if it is only for a short visit to the loo). My feet are soaring and I spot 'Sabal', a foot massage parlor. I am reminded of my last visit to Bangkok, when at every opportunity we jumped for foot massage and it used to be such a relief. Late at night, my cousins and I, after shopping and dinner would head to the nearest massage parlour to pamper ourselves. Just for 300 Bhats, we would sit side by side, next to each other, on the smooth reclining chairs, behind the glass windows and get some relaxing massages. It used to be such a pleasure as we floated on our feet on our way back home.


I decide to try this one in the Link mall at Bandra.

The receptionist sitting outside the parlor hands me the various types of foot-massage on offer. There are four different kinds and she advises me to go for herbal massage. Since I have tried none before I opt for her choice.

I enter the dimly lit room that has a strong aroma of lemon grass. There are perfumed candles everywhere and one big picture of Buddha dominates the wall under warm spotlights. After a cold glass of water, I am led to the reclining sofa with cushions tucked behind my back. There are several girls in the room but they all look alike, same narrow slit eyes, long face, large forehead and nod with a smile. How do they recognize one Thai girl from another? Anyways, even in Bangkok I am confused when I see so many people of similar features. One with the crinkly eyes comes closer with a hot tub of water, containing some flower petals. She washes my dirty feet and I apologize. In India we wash the feet of the spiritual gurus, and I pretend I am the one. She smiles, maybe she is used to many, more such dirty feet walking into her parlor. She wipes my feet with warm towel and gently lifts them over a small stool. I stretch my feet and close my eyes. There is a soft, soothing piano music in the background. I am drifted to ether world. Wow! Such is the life!

The masseuse brings a tray of different herbal oils. She pour oil into her palm, rubs the oil between her palms and with circular motion she massages my feet, calves, knees and toes. I remind her to be a bit careful because I am afraid of wrong pressure on my nerves but she is proficient and works very efficiently. It is very relaxing and I take in deep breath (having learnt on TV channels that when we have nothing to do, we can utilize that time with breathing exercises, breathes in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.....) I feel her kneading my muscles with her knuckles, and then with finger tips and nails pressing on pressure points. When she starts her massage with blunt roller, I squint to see that blunt object but feel too drowsy to keep my eyes open. I drift back to sleep enjoying the soft music and pleasure of the warm tingling sensation on my feet. Suddenly there is a warm steaming rub under my feet. I cringe. The room is now filled with vapors and the scent of lemon grass is strong. This time I am curious to see the source of the vapors. I see a tub containing hot steaming oil on her side. She had a small muslin potli filled with lemon grass leaves. She dips this potli in the hot lemon seed oil and presses it lightly on my skin.

I am amused and started to converse with her, thanking her for the nice treatment. She asks me to visit her more often, explaining that it is good for circulation of the blood and in keeping oneself healthy. She talks about her life in India and tells me that everything that she used during the massage was imported from Bangkok. Her boss is an Indian married to a Thai woman. They have two outlets in Mumbai, one at Bandra and other at Infinity mall in Varsova. There are seven reclining chairs at Bandra branch spread over two levels. I did not see other clients and I was the only one, alone during my visit. Maybe it is expensive. For my foot herbal massage, it cost me Rs1500, if I were to ask the masseur to come home, they normally charge Rs150 for body massage. But then I think we pay here for the ambience and the feel good factor.

After the foot massage, I am asked to sit on lower stool and she gives me back and head massage, stretching my arms backwards and sideways and finally ended with massage on my arms, shoulders and fingers.

I was just thinking of visiting a natural ice-cream parlour across the street, post massage, when she entered again with the tray of fresh fruits (grapes, kiwi and apple) and a cup of hot ginger tea.

Light and refreshed I felt like a royalty in the kingdom of my own..

Corruption - Root of all Evil

During my growing up days, getting admission in colleges was easy. We neither involved our parents in our admission formalities nor in selecting a college for us. The only criterion that was important was high percentage or a wee bit of friendly influence. I don’t remember paying anything extra than just fees which was affordable. Some of my friends were undecided in choosing their career and would hop from one college to another over the period of four years and after graduation, would choose a completely different line. Some were successful in life and some not, but none of them had wasted millions of rupees during their fickle-minded career hip-hops.

Things have changed. More people are educated now and most of them are sure (well, almost) what they wish to do. They have career guidance centers that help them choose the right track. The only problem (now-a-days) is that they need their parents’ help to escort them because unless the parents don’t co-operate to bribe the college faculty for their admission to a good college, they are not likely to pursue the studies of their interest. Corruption is deep rooted in our world today and those who cannot fight, join in.

I met one such parent who had a story to tell.

Sunita is the single parent, a widow, who is a mother to a bright twenty-two year old youth. Yesterday, she proudly showed me her new blackberry that her son had gifted her from his first salary. There were tears in her eyes, tears of joy, happy that she has an earning son. She recalls the day, two years ago, when she had tears of different shade. Those were the tears of fear and stress. She was so stressed out during those days that she would visit every temple, which were known to perform miracle. She prayed to Gods to help her fulfill the dreams that she and her husband had nourished for many years. She wanted some miracle to happen to save her from paying the bribe of seventeen lakhs that the management was asking for granting a seat in their prestigious college.

She was seeking admission for her son for MBA at management institute in Mumbai that boasts 'of professionally managed, multi-disciplinary and multi-faceted oasis of knowledge'. This institute with a mission to redefine the system of education believes that the most profound learning that they can give to their students outside the textbooks is the importance of value, the strength of upright character and an ability to make difference that can set them apart.

Before meeting the student, an interview with their parents is a ‘must’

Sunita, along with group of other parents, waited in queue for an interview with the director of the institute. When her turn arrived, she was asked to deposit her purse and her mobile outside the room. (Were they afraid that she might record the conversation?) She entered a posh room and sat opposite him, admiring the expensive rings on his eight fingers. This gentleman had good taste and to afford that kind of luxury one needs to earn an attractive salary.

“I am a single mom, can you reduce the amount by few lakhs, maybe fifteen?” she pleaded, “Seventeen lakhs is lots of money and I cannot afford that kind of donation.”

“I am sorry” he replied , "We cannot reduce it. We don’t even reduce it for those people who say that they are over-burdened with 3 daughters and that they need to save money for their marriage, nopes, we don’t bargain at all. It is the same amount for everyone.”

Unabled to speak more words, she sat quietly, staring at the blank wall with tears glistening in her eyes. The director moved uncomfortably in his chair, changing his posture..

“However, there is a solution.” He said, “We will be conducting formal interviews for admission next month; all the students who have applied in our college will be called for an interview, if your son excels in that interview successfully then maybe, he will be spared.”

The interview was held for 2500 students and only 60 students were selected from merit list. She was lucky that her son was selected on merit.

“Miracle, this was pure miracle, I just couldn’t believe it” she says “I had gone all the way to Navi Mumbai to one particular temple to pray, actually I went to many more. I am sure God listened to my prayers. I used to emotionally blackmail God to help me fulfill my promise to my hubby”

After finishing two years, her son has a job now and is earning twenty-five thousand a month. She had paid only five lakhs for the course, plus the transport and the food which might take another two years for him to cover the cost of his education.

Yes! He might make his mark in the corporate world (as was promised by the institution's capability to deliver professional education that meets the highest standards of professionalism worldwide).

BUT.....What about those students who did not make it to the list of lucky 60?

Those who were forced to pay the bribe of seventeen lakhs plus five more lakhs as tuition fees plus the expenses of text books, transport and food? What about those desperate ones who borrowed money to fill those greedy bellies of prestigious institutes? How many more years will it take them to earn back that amount?

The foundation of their education was corruption and we should not be surprised if they will fight back with more corruption.

There is no end. me thinks OR Is there?