It’s taken us a whole lot longer to get here than it did 3 years ago – a combination of crater-studded roads, diversions, losing our way on multiple occasions, and if that weren’t enough, a part of our convoy being held up by the ongoing Gujjar agitation! A little over 4 hours after leaving home, we finally arrive at our destination – to a warm welcome, amidst familiar surroundings – good ‘ol Kesroli!!
For all the running around they put me through at their Embassy in New York, the Chileans more them redeemed themselves at Santiago International! While American and Canadian passport holders had to slug it out in a serpentine queue at immigration, I simply walked into an empty counter that said ‘Others’, got my passport stamped, and was on my way in no time, leaving behind the more ‘privileged’ lot, and having the last laugh while doing so 😉
This was my third foray into South America, and just like the last two, a rather brief one at that! There were several reasons to justify such a ridiculously short trip – I had very limited vacation days left; I’d managed to get a steal of a fare (details of which are best left out ;-)); my friend Lino was going to be there at the same time; and last but not the least, it was spring in the Southern hemisphere!
The trip was short for sure but the sights, sounds, tastes and smells that I experienced over those three days were as rich and varied as I’ve come to expect of this amazing continent. Spanning a sleepy little town, a historic port city, and of course, the capital, Santiago, here are 10 highlights from my trip, narrated as they happened.
#1. The road to Limache. Like most other countries in South America, Chile too, sadly, shrugged off its passenger rail network over the last few decades. Instead, they replaced it with a super-efficient bus system serving every nook and cranny of their rather lengthy country. Turbus and Pullman were products of this development, and are today the largest nationwide bus companies. From the Pullman terminal in Central Santiago, we set off for Limache, some 100 km and 2 hours away, over the Andean foothills.
For those of you who’ve followed my blog, it’s been a little over two months since I visited Portland, ME. But my pursuit for ‘Narrow Gauge happiness‘ didn’t quite end there! I persist late into the year and head south this time, to the state of Pennsylvania.
Huntingdon, PA, where we’ll stay for the night, is about 60 miles closer to NYC than Portland, ME is. Thankfully, my journey there is a lot less complicated too! And there’s good reason why I’ve waited this long to get my fix again – to experience it during the Northeast spectacle that is Fall!
It is the first Saturday of October and we have just departed the town of Patchogue, aboard the 10:20 for Watch Hill. A dozen boy scouts, their caretakers, the four of us, and a couple of other hikers are all that make up the ferry’s roster this morning – an unusually low number given how stunning the day has turned out to be! As we make our way across Great South Bay, we remind ourselves how fortunate we are to be making this trip ‘off season’ 😉
It’s been over a decade since I camped outdoors – in other words, way too long! Back in the day, as I shall refer to it, camping was invariably part of a trek, either in the Sahyadris (closer to Bombay) or in the loftier Himalayas. Needless to say, I enjoyed both those activities immensely!
Despite several efforts over the past couple of years, the closest I’ve gotten to camping in this country has been ‘cabining‘, or staying in a log cabin in the woods! I know, it doesn’t quite count! So, just like I had been earlier this year – hell bent on skiing – I was determined to go camping, before the cooler weather descended on us.
The New York metro area is served by no less than 3 major airports, together contributing a staggering 3300 flights to its airspace, each day! While Newark is in neighbouring New Jersey, both LaGuardia and JFK are located in the city’s largest borough, Queens. But little known to the hundreds of thousands of daily fliers, and to a majority of New Yorkers, is the fact that the city’s first airport was in fact in Brooklyn!
In the days when flights were few and far between, when passengers walked freely onto the tarmac to board their planes, and when security procedures – as we know them today – were non existent, ‘Building 1’ was sufficient enough to house the passenger terminal, airline offices and air traffic control for Floyd Bennett Field!
How many bus journeys does it take to realise one’s Narrow Gauge fix? Two. How many people can one convince to join in on an itinerary that involves a 0130 departure from NYC, a 90 minute layover at Boston and another 2 hour journey to Maine? None!! And so it went on a fine Saturday in August…
Sleep deprived, blurry-eyed, hungry and somewhat irritable, I arrive, all by myself, in Portland ME after a 8.5 hr, 330 mile journey, only to discover that there is no steam operation this season at the Maine Narrow Gauge Railroad! All it would’ve taken was a phone call ahead of my visit, I think to myself! A moment later, I step on to the tiny platform and behold the sight of a Narrow Gauge train against the backdrop of gleaming Casco Bay and stunning blue skies. The arduous journey there now appears incidental – I am suddenly in bliss!
I have a knack of picking them – days with bright sunshine and not a cloud in the sky! Not on this Sunday, however, as I sit on the forward deck of the Staten Island Ferry and watch helplessly as a series of threatening clouds loom over the horizon!
Sometimes it just pays to check on the weather forecast!
For me, it’s always important to get my bearings in a new city – not just my north, south coordinates – but also the general layout of the land, so to speak. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get the hang of this half way in to you’re trip. At most other times, it happens when it’s time to pack your bag and head back! You then end up spending a good part of your return journey, and some of your first few days home, mulling over maps and having several ‘aha’ moments! Well, at least I do!
So, in Barcelona, I was rather pleased at our decision to make it up to Tibidabo at the end of Day 1. Sitting just shy of 1700 ft above sea level, Tibidabo is the tallest mountain in Serra de Collserola, the range that forms the city’s natural northern boundary, and expectedly so, offers the best views of the same. Once there, you have plenty of time to discern the geographical make up of the city, while savouring a chilled Estrella Damm!
Part 1
Seattle was the last on my list of ‘big cities’ to visit in the US. I’m happy to report that as of early May, I have been able to check it off! A few things made this trip possible, viz., a soon to expire visa to Canada, a strong desire to visit Vancouver, and the possibility of doing so from the US, by means of a train journey!
I’m also rather pleased to say that of the 12 ‘big cities’ I have visited in the US, Seattleites, in my opinion, are by far the friendliest lot! After an absolutely painless border crossing experience at Blaine, WA (on my return from Vancouver), I’ve decided to extend this proclamation to the entire state of Washington!
A good place to start discovering how friendly people are or aren’t is at a local eatery. It didn’t take me long to do so as I arrived close to lunch hour on a Friday, and on the advise of another local (via email), headed straight to Matt’s in the Market.
In 1946, my maternal grandfather, who was a PR man with the Royal Indian Air Force at the time, was posted to Japan for 3 years as a part of the British Commonwealth Occupation Forces deployment. His experiences there were rich and everlasting, and a few decades later, I would grow up hearing all about them. In his time there, he learned the language, made friends for life and was overawed by their hospitality, kindness and etiquette, a lot of which he came to adopt as his own.
Papaji, as us grand kids used to call him, passed away in ’89 but he left in me a fascination for a country that had greatly impacted him, and a desire to visit it some day. My love for trains helped reinforce this ever so often, what with the endearing image of the Shinkansen (Bullet Train) against the backdrop of Mt.Fujiyama, always whetting my appetite for the land of the rising sun.
61 years after his return from there, it was with some trepidation and a lot of excitement that I embarked on my first visit to Japan – the Big Sushi (local parlance for Tokyo) in particular – and set out to experience first hand all that I had heard, read and seen (from afar) about the country and its people.
First thing I did was get my timing right – be there in time for Sakura or the Cherry Blossom season!
brat's ramblings 