California diary
California diary
A trip that almost did not begin
Air France strike and resultant lack of communication nearly led to the cancellation of my trip. Thought of unpacking two bags, the disappointment of not seeing girls, and missing on the excitement of 11 hours of trans-Atlantic bliss was too stressful. This stress was finally released when the check-in girl at AF counter said she is checking me in all the way to SFO. It took a glass of Australian Hardy Red to lift my spirit. Sitting in the lounge always reminds me that as in the journey, I am in transit to my life as well, waiting for mystery ahead to be unfolded. I kept smiling at the announcement board looking at my flight. AF 217 that is finally going.
Paris Oh Paris
Landed safely and in time. Air France outdid itself in many ways; newer aircraft, better wines, modern espresso machines, and smiling women. Unlike me, I slept, largely because my systems had crashed after daylong anxiety on AF strike ruining my day. I had a shower in lounge, breakfast, and e-mail check, a routine instilled in me like any seasoned traveler in our times. I greedily sip yet one more Espresso as I look forward to entering another 10.5 hrs flight across Atlantic. Such a long flight is like a mother’s womb, warm, comfortable, undisturbed by hostilities of the world 40,000 feet below. I settled in my aisle seat with an old book of Irvine Wallace on Kindle and nothing glass of French Champagne. Life as it should be.
Sleepless in San Francisco
The world around me is sleeping. Sleep eludes me, afflicted as it is by the jet lag. I woke up at 2 am and by 6 am had run out of things to do. I set out for a walk to downtown Mountainview that was just about waking up. Few people in the street at this hour on weekend had a curious look at the man walking with an army stick in his hand. I am getting used to the absence of Mumbai’s chaotic noise. This town is too quiet for my taste. Mumbai’s disorderly state has gotten under my skin.
Musings from downtown Mountainview
It is time to have my second breakfast though downtown is empty and desolate as yet. An Art fair is being set up around here and the volunteers are just trooping in slowly. Coffee shops are open but not serving yet. I sit on a bench to wait. I am determined to have an espresso today. Bay area California seems so vastly distinct from the rest of the United States. It’s like Goa in India. Different sights, smell, feel, and tastes. The absence of high rises is most noticeable. Youth is overwhelming and all-pervading. Affluence is in the air and weather remains dreamlike. My breakfast place is opening doors now so I head out. I am dying for the first coffee sip.
Monday Blues
I am yet to get over my jet lag as I sit in the darkness of cool Bay area weather near the swimming pool having tea. It reminds me of our Delhi winter days, sipping tea in our Greater Kailash home balcony. Ironically, as I get over this jet lag, I would be initiating a bigger one when I head eastward next Monday. But no one, including Columbus, said that travel is for faint-hearted. I see stirring in some homes on the first floor and realize that it is Monday today. People are getting ready for work. With a sense of disdain and wasted vanity, I recall those countless Mondays of my corporate life.
I am battling momentous decisions like having breakfast at home or in the downtown market and which wine to open before lunch. The weather has not changed a bit, cool, crisp, not a shred of humidity. I have no shopping to do, no sites to see and no packing to do. So I am in a state of readiness for my return trip home. I am flying two of my favorite airlines Virgin Atlantic and Jet Airways. Both are overnight flights and I am excited to watch some good movies over a couple of Moet. I am already preparing my Mumbai To-Do list and looking forward to slipping into my familiar routine, sleep in my extra-large bed, and open much preserved Macallan18 years.
Man always wants to come home, isn’t it!
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