The urban sprawl is apparent as we drive along I-10, in the western part of Houston, the country’s fourth-largest city. Texans love to drive, and given that the state still has one of the lowest gas prices in the country, that girth is inevitable. So it’s not surprising to know that Rudy’s started off as a gas station, in a little known town in Texas, with a tiny shack selling Ribs. Although that business model has changed little since, more people visit Rudy’s today for its mouth-watering BBQ offerings than they do for inexpensive gas.
Category: Food & Drink
Frietag in Hamburg
Berlin Hauptbahnhof, that awe-inspiring steel and glass behemoth, is incredibly quiet for 7:45 on a Friday morning. We are on platform 7, some 3 levels below the main entrance, awaiting train 794, one of many Inter City Express or ICE trains that ply the German rails everyday. Part of an extensive high-speed network, the ICEs are some of the fastest in the world, and obviously, I’m excited at the prospect of traveling on one!
Our train to Hamburg is late though – not something one would expect from the über efficient Germans! Thankfully, its not particularly crowded, so we do get our choice of seats, and after a quick stop at a Berlin suburb, we are on our way, leaving behind the North German countryside in a blur…
Binging on Berlin
Depending on which terminal you arrive at, Tegel does seem crammed, and somewhat inefficient, for something as simple as an ATM transaction. It also lacks rail connectivity to the city centre – a feature uncommon to most large European cities. But having realized its inadequacies a few years ago, Tegel‘s days are numbered, and the Germans are months away from opening the aptly named Brandenburg Airport as Berlin’s new gateway. Tegel is also, perhaps, the last stop for any form of whining or complaining, on a visit to this fine city!
Berlin needs no introduction. Nor any marketing. Everyone I know who has visited – fellow travelers, short-stay visitors and those who went on business – came back singing paeans about it. It took very little for me to be convinced. So I’ll do my part here and go easy on the hard selling, instead just focusing upon the high points of my trip.
On a sombre note
On a gloomy, cold and rainswept day, it made most sense to be indoors for as long as possible, so we set of for the Topography of Terror Museum, which lies just west of Mitte, the city’s central district. Built on the site of the former Gestapo-SS headquarters, and sitting directly across from the buildings that once housed the offices of the Luftwaffe, the museum documents repression under the Nazi regime. Across from the beautifully designed exhibition hall is an open gallery, built into the old trenches that were discovered during excavation (the site was heavily bombed by the allies). Behind the trenches, and providing a surreal backdrop, lies the largest remaining segment of the Outer Berlin Wall.
During the course of our stay, we visited three museums in all, and every one of them was outstanding. Curatorial standards were amongst the very best; the attention to detail was incredible; the spaces were thoughtfully designed; and in each instance, the quality of English was flawless (most, if not all displays, were bilingual). Someone, somewhere had obviously gone that extra step.
Andean High
Lest we forget Lima
A low haze hangs over the city, as you near touchdown at Jorge Chávez International Airport. Outside, the air is somewhat putrid and the eyes tend to smart. Traffic crawls along wide arteries and its not even 7 in the morning! You begin to question your very decision to stop over in Lima. But unlike countless others who skip it, in their rush to get to the Sacred Valley, you have in fact made the right choice! Lima’s worth more than just a second look – all it takes is one sunny day to lift the veil of smog, and a little bit of perseverance.
If the city’s new and hyper-efficient Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) system, and its up-and-coming Metro are anything to go by, the city has a lot to look forward to. Looking back, however, the city’s own past is securely preserved within Centro Historico, Lima’s landmarked historic quarter. A walk along Jirón de la Unión, from Plaza San Martin to Plaza de Armas, is an eye-opener, and a lesson to any civil servant on the preservation and upkeep of historic zones in large cities.
Public squares – no matter their size or importance – are spotlessly clean; lawns are beautifully tended, and pedestrian-friendly streets abound. The historic district is brimful with well-kept heritage buildings, some dating from the 16th-century, in styles ranging from Baroque to Neo-classical, and materials running the gamut from adobe to brick. In between, a myriad of colonial-era carved wooden balconies – no less than 1600 of them – makes up for the lull, if ever there was one…
The Goan Holiday
Visiting the state after a gap of 15 years, I have mixed expectations. A lot would have changed, no doubt – some of it, hopefully, for the better. But our arrival into Dabolim is completely underwhelming. Given all the hype the state of Goa has received as a tourist destination, and the massive influx of visitors since (some of them on chartered flights even), the airport remains a complete eyesore and an all-round shit show!
The ride to our hotel is almost an hour long, but over the course of it, our disappointment with Dabolim wanes. The Ramada‘s vaulted lobby is grand in appearance and wears a festive look for the holiday season. As the light begins to change, a walk through its sea-facing, sun-kissed property is at once invigorating, banishing any residual thoughts of the D word…
Jambo Kenya!
Jomo Kenyatta International Airport is dimly lit and depressing. Worse still, if you happen to land there at 0230 in the morning! Outside though, is a land altogether different, and one that begs to be explored.
In fact, sharing a fence with the aerodrome is Nairobi National Park, the world’s only wildlife conservation in such close proximity to an urban centre. As we drive along its perimeter in pitch darkness, I try hard to imagine what lies beyond. Daybreak couldn’t come sooner!
Healing Kiss
A fellow Libran, Ibrahim was born on the 3rd of October 2011 to Daisy II and Jock Junior. When he turns 2, he will relocate to one of the country’s many national parks. For now though, he’s available for viewing in Langata, a western suburb of Nairobi, at the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife’s Giraffe Centre.
It takes two men and a few minutes to coax him towards the viewing platform of our enclosure. The shutterbugs fire away, some people attempt to feed him, and I simply get the best of his affection 😉
Stopover in Stamboul!
Gadi has already traveled to 110 countries – plenty more than I’ll be able to accomplish in this lifetime! You can pretty much point to a country on the flight map, and chances are he’s been there. He’s even been to places in India, which I’m yet to visit! His next destination is a toss up between Azerbaijan and Moldova. He speaks about 8 languages, a number which he considers unimpressive! Gadi is an inspiration. He’s also my fellow passenger on flight TK004.
At Atatürk International, we part ways. His connecting flight to Tel Aviv departs in 45 minutes, whereas I have a full day’s layover in the city. Before I begin my sojourn, however, I must deal with rush hour in Istanbul!
The Boatel at Marina 59
The platform at Broad Channel is packed to the rafters as our train pulls in – rather unusual for a Sunday morning, this far out in Queens! The doors open and every single one of our fellow passengers – with surfboards, picnic hampers and folding chairs in tow – alight to join the throngs. Clearly, we didn’t get the memo this morning. Either that, or things have changed considerably since my last visit to the Rockaways!
We alight two stations later at Beach 60th St., and the platform there is as desolate as can be. With only a smattering of passengers on board, the A train trundles off in the direction of Far Rockaway, while we make our way a couple of blocks north to the Boatel at Marina 59. Having figured out how to get into the gated compound, we are motioned in the direction of ‘A dock’.
Biking through the South Bronx, one green patch at a time!
Chances are, you’ve passed right over it, in your car or in a bus, whizzing along the Bruckner or the Major Deegan, as you make your way into or out of the city. Or if you’re a baseball fan, you’ve probably ridden the #4 train to watch a game at Yankee Stadium. But there’s a lot more to the South Bronx than the Yankees, or views of industrial blight afforded by the many expressways that criss cross it. Just east of the Bruckner, in fact, a little known resurgence is taking place along the Bronx River. I set out one morning to investigate for myself.
The Hunts Point section of the South Bronx lies approximately 5 miles north of Astoria, a 25-minute bike ride for me via the Triborough / RFK bridge. At the southern end of Tiffany St., about a mile off the gritty Bruckner Blvd, past old warehouses and truck repair shops, sits an 11-acre patch of green by the name of Barretto Point Park.
Continue reading “Biking through the South Bronx, one green patch at a time!”
Alpine Train’ing
There are plenty of window seats to choose from as we pull out of Cointrin International but at Cornavin the carriage starts to fill quickly. I soon realise that I’m sitting on the wrong side – the Swiss follow British running practices! Determined to find a window seat on the ‘correct’ side, I make my way to the dining car.
The Swiss rail system is every bit a marvel, and a complete joy to experience. Trains thread their way through the length and breadth of the country, connecting the largest towns with the tiniest of hamlets. Schedules are frequent, connections seamless, fares affordable and the trains themselves are comfortable and always punctual! Better still, the dining car is alive and well here and continues to uphold the gold standard in timeless rail travel – table linen, chinaware, waiter service and a full menu!
For me to ride these trains is nothing short of a privilege and the dining car brings back pleasant memories of saloon travel in India. I tuck into my croissant, take a sip of my stiffly brewed Lavazza, and check off ‘most desired rail system’ #2 from my list 😉













