No, I'm not being lynched, thanks.

The past few days have seen a number of concerned inquiries about my wellbeing in Sydney, courtesy big news in the Indian media about attacks on Indians ("curry bashings" being the preferred phrase)

My opinion: there is, maybe, a small element of truth to the racist angle of these stories. But for the most part the attacks are "regular" muggings... robbery is the main objective and Indians in general (students in particular, perhaps) are considered soft targets. Which is not to say it isn't a problem; particularly in certain notorious neighbourhoods in Melbourne and Sydney. The Indian media has gone overboard (it's barely made the news here), as they do, but there's no reason for us to believe that anything's changed dramatically really... I have heard stories of Indians being mugged every now and then since I got here... there's not enough evidence to declare it a trend, let alone a worrying one. Australia in general continues to have relatively low rates of crime and violence. Having said that, it seems like the state machinery is taking it pretty seriously what with Dr. Singh having put a phone call through and all. Hmmm.. maybe some good will come out of the media's antics after all.

http://www.smh.com.au/national/indian-student-bashings-on-the-rise-in-sydney-community-leader-20090529-bpxy.html

This morning's Herald had a pretty good article on another facet of the issue... the reaction to the reaction as it were. It made a lot of sense and is a view I'm more likely to subscribe to.

http://www.smh.com.au/national/coverage-of-indian-student-assaults-irresponsible-20090602-btxb.html

Dawn Chorus

Our setting is Clifton Gardens, a tiny and very picturesque non-beach on Sydney's North Shore. We are here at the odd hour of 5 AM. And there are at least 5 or 6 hundred others. Everyone's here for a Sydney Festival event. The Dawn Chorus is a series of performances by the Sydney Philharmonic Choir at four of Sydney's beaches at dawn. The scene is strikingly beautiful: the crowd sits facing the water, spread out on the sand in silence; there's a hint of colour on the horizon; the harmonies drift over - they're Latin-ish and compliment the view, the sound of lapping water, barely-awake gulls etc perfectly. All is at peace. And then the dawn breaks... and it's magic... the sky is nothing if not glorious. Everyone's locked into the experience... with the possible exception of the 13 yr old in the superman tee and red pants who preferred to curl up with eyes closed and ipod fixedly excluding him from the goings-on.

Admittedly things could have been better. Not realising how popular the event was, we landed up "only" 20 mins prior to commencement. Which means we couldn't quite latch onto the subtler pieces. We could've taken a creative leaf out of some of the others' books and got into the water to gently backstroke up to where the choir was bunched up. Or row (row, row?) our boat closer to the action. But given that I own neither a boat nor any ability to swim, maybe I'll just show up earlier next year.

Flat White with two, please

I've never been a coffee drinker. (Or a tea drinker for that matter, but that's a different story… featuring the monsoons, masala chai and hot kandha bhajiyas). Growing up, tea was a part of breakfast and was defined – in my mind at least – as the default beverage to dunk your bread-and-butter/jam/roastbeef* in. Coffee replaced tea once a month or so, just to break the monotony for a day. Now, this coffee was always instant - Nescafe types, au lait and with sugar. Studying for standard X and XII exams, while others used coffee to stay up late, I actually opted for a Thums Up. I don’t think anyone really believed it was helping… but I had a right to be pampered… and I liked Thums Up. Working in India and the US, I never cared for coffee. Except on my first job, where tea/coffee coupons were slimily baked into my salary package and I felt obliged to drink up. The bloody coupons were probably half my salary anyways.

So it’s been established that I’ve neither felt the need nor understood the fascination for the drink. Cut to Sydney, winter of 2007, and perceptions start to change. Nothing dramatic. I still don’t need one, but the social aspect of meeting over a cuppa is pretty neat. I’m quite taken up with the idea of enjoying a leisurely conversation in a tiny café, outdoors preferred, banana muffin optional. Or a short walk, in the middle of the ‘slothy’ part of the afternoon, to grab one with a colleague – no better way to keep your pulse on who’s banging whom in the office. Well, maybe a drink at the pub after work might beat a coffee. But not by much.

Coffee’s also taken more seriously in Sydney than in other places I’ve lived in. Which isn’t saying much considering I’ve only lived in Bombay and a couple of cities in the US. Still. Here, a coffee machine in the office is a gleaming, complex piece of machinery that I couldn’t hope to master. Nor do I want to. It takes you, like, two hours to make yourself a cup; it’s easier to befriend the two or three baristas on the floor that can brew the perfect cup. In the US office, the coffee machine is a percolator that spits out mud-water. The Indian office has a machine with buttons labelled “Cappucino”, “Mochachino”, “Strawberry Milk”, and “Tomato Soup”. It uses powdered milk – ‘nuf said. In the US, coffee’s a toss-up between Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts and McDonald’s. Blah! In Sydney, there are loads of coffee franchises, most folks have their favourite café and Starbucks is the pariah of the coffee-drinking world. What’s more: a coffee’s reasonably priced (compared to the … ummm… rest of the commodity spectrum).

I wrote all of this up after a flat-white with my cubicle-mate. And as I near the end, I’m reminded that coffee also totally kills my appetite, leaving me with the suspicion that it’s burning holes in my stomach. But boy was the office gossip worth it!



*Yes, I have been known to dunk my bread-and-roastbeef sandwiches in tea. It’s delicious. Get over it!

The perfect Sunday

... starts with brunch with a friend. The weather is nice and autumny, jackets are not required. You sit outdoors at one of Pyrmont's cafes, there's spent leaves swirling around. The food is great and coffee (flat white, two sugars) is perfect. You walk through Darling Harbour and into the city, catch a bus (with no more than a one minute wait!) to Coogee beach. You're meeting a friend you may not see again for years. You're early but have a book. The people-watching is of the highest quality and there's the open sea for a vista. Your friend arrives and you walk along the cliffs... the pace is leisurely (the walk which has been done in under an hour takes three) as you talk about random things. The view is as breath-taking as ever. It ends with a hazelnut and chocolate strudel at a cafe in Bondi. It's nothing short of sensational!

You get home, draw up a list of chores to be finished and do them in good time. You blog.

I had the perfect Sunday.

"The Queen is dead, long live The Queen"

Ok, NO - this is not an Elton John tribute! The queen we're discussing today is the Queen Victoria, Cunard Line's latest offering in luxury cruise liners. With the old QE2 being gradually put to pasture, the QV has set sail on it's maiden world tour... and pulled into Sydney's harbour this weekend...


I was a little luckier than the thousands of others that flocked to check her out. My cousin, Edson (seen first from left in pic below), is a chef on board! He'd set it all up so that I could get on, gape at the opulence and even have a nice lunch (yes, he made it himself too)...



My first reaction to seeing the thing was "it's not *that* huge"... 18+ floors (12 passenger decks, plus cabins for the crew below, engine rooms etc) of ship aren't a big deal for me, apparently...


... but it's only when you're inside (as some of us privileged few happen to us), that the size overwhelms you! I guess it has to be that big to house and adequately entertain 2000 filthy rich guests looking forward a good pampering. Edson's tour lasted a good hour and a half... and we were hardly lingering too long in any one area...





The QV has 8 restaurants (one of them with a capacity of up to 1000 people) ranging from a black-tie, fine dining to a regular pub...

...and 13 bars!!! Mmmmm...

On the high seas, you have to grip more than the obvious...

The Chart Room was one of my favourites. There's also a small museum, art gallery, internet center and a huge library with two full-time librarians... and a breath-taking, full-blown 800-seater theatre complete with boxes, red velvet and gilt galore!

Somehow, I don't get the concept of a world cruise. The idea of spending 2 days without land in sight and then spending a few hours trying to take in an entire culture doesn't appeal to me. However,the average of a passenger aboard the QV is 60... which leaves me plenty of time to change my mind. So someday, who knows...

A day at the SCG.

Ah, that beautiful green grandstand...


and those unmistakable light towers...

the crowd sang "One Little Master... there's only One Little Master" to the tune of Guantanamera!

the TV screen replays every ball...

security keeping an eye open for hooligans, drunks and racists alike...

the crowd in Bay 5 enjoying a Tendulkar masterpiece...


Binga on the backward square fence, being taunted on account of being slower than Tait!

You little beauty!!! Paisa vasool...

And finally, a video of the teams getting back on the ground after tea. Phenomenal atmosphere!

How to speak 'strian....

Apparently 3 months in a new country is not enough to wrap one's head around the slang, figures of speech and outrageously silly terms/phrases used there. Or maybe it's just me. At any rate, I find that I still can't think in Australian. A classic example is the term the locals use to refer to McDonald's... it's plainly "maccas" (pronounced mackers). Now I *know* this, but it still takes me about 3 seconds for my brain to associate"maccas" with the golden arches, Happy Meals, Ronald McDonald etc.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Women are referred to as "sheilas" (or just "chooks"), Indians are called "curries" and for some bizarre reason "arvo" is the substitute for afternoon! If you heard that a coworker has "chucked a sickie", stay calm. She hasn't retched all over the fax machine - she's just called in unwell. The first week in my new house, my flatmate (a 25 yr old guy, I might add) asked me if I'd seen his white thongs; I was nearing the point of freaking out when I recalled that in this country thongs are casual slippers or flip-flops! There's a few cool phrases I've actually come to like and use regularly: I "flick Brian an email" these days instead of simply sending it to him, I smoothly assure my team members that there are "no dramas" with the "doco" (document) I just finished reviewing, and I've taken to answering the phone with "G'day". Hell, I'm not even averse to sprinkling my sentences with "mayte" - something I swore I would not get around to!

And then there's the names. The Australians love their nicknames, that's for sure. Names must be shortened and funked up. Typically, there's a "z" thrown on the end. So Darren is "Daz", Barry is "Baz", Warren is "Waz" or "Wazza", Jeremie is "Jez". If the name's already short, is it beyond tampering? Ummm... not really. Just ask Dick-o, Jack-o and Dan-o. If the first name is too common or dull, there's always the surname.

Some of the Aussie terms have a very effeminate ring, which makes it funny when you have the big macho types using them. A lot of these terms end in "ie". For instance, breakfast is "brekkie", a biscuit is "bikkie", presents = "pressies", tantrum = tantie, slot machines are called "pokies" (from video poker, I guess), sun glasses are "sunnies". Even Christmas isn't spared... down under, it's "Chrissie"! It can all get a bit much at times. Imagine hearing "She didn't get a pressie for Chrissie so she threw a tantie after brekkie... mayte"

*cringe*

I still haven't found what I'm looking for...

... which is access to live cricket on the tube!

My first week in Sydney I was all excited cause India, with some help from the rain and the toss gods, appeared to hold the upper hand in their away series in England. So I headed off after work to catch the first hour or two at the local pub in Milson's Point. I got there and politely informed the waitress that I'd like to watch Fox 2... the channel that was broadcasting the game live. Now, it was very apparent to me that there was also a big footy game on. The waitress of course, chose to close her eyes to this and went ahead and changed the channel on the big TV. And then, she slid away. Leaving me shuffling about, facing up to these 6-8 aussies. Now these guys were BIG friggin' blokes, alright? So when they turned around growling something about "fucking cricket", I pretty much peed my pants right then and there. Thankfully, she came back in, argued with them for the sake of arguing and turned it to whatever channel the footy was on. Oh, I wasn't completely ignored. She turned the small TV to Fox 2. But really, after coming within 2 minutes of being beaten to death, a cricket victory (even an Indian overseas one) loses its significance.

So the point is... I need to find a way to watch the cricket from the safety of my own (or someone's else's) home! Cricinfo won't see internet coverage in australia, so if you know of any dubious sites or generous friends in Sydney... for my life's sake - HEYELP!!!

A Sydneysider now

It's been about a month since I landed in Sydney, and since I am piggy-backing on an unsecured net connection, I might as well write about the first few days in my new city. First impression - Sydney is really pretty! It seems less dirty, less noisy, less rude than some of the other really big cities I have in mind. It's winter here, but the weather's sexy. The idea of dressing differently for different seasons appeals to me and one of my first lessons was that people in Sydney take their dressing fairly seriously. (I had to bury my American parka - excessively bulky and butt ugly - deep into the recesses of my wardrobe. Except that it doesn't have any recesses at all, really). I'm getting there.

I live in the city... in the affordably elegant Pyrmont area. Or so I thought. The rent went up exactly 10 days after I moved in... taking affordability out of the equation. I most likely will be moving again. :( That's not a welcome thought considering I've already hauled my FOB arse through two previous temporary dwellings thus far. The prospect of house hunting doesn't exactly cheer me up either... but that's a separate post in itself. I really don't want to move though... the location is just great. I can walk to work. It's about 30 minutes one-way, which I thought would be a bit much. As it turned out, the walk is gorgeous!!! It's right through Darling Harbour and is oftentimes the best part of my day. (I know - I don't have a life... yet!) Also, as those of you who've tactlessly made fun of my expanding waistline will testify, I definitely could use the exercise.

Work is smooth... after working in the Indian IT industry, it must be! After the 60-70 hour weeks in Bombay, I could definitely get used to the sane working hours... sometimes spent with a glass of red right by my laptop on a chilled out Friday evening! The office also has a table tennis, X-box room complete with a 40" plasma and a well stocked kitchen with breakfast, fruit, snacks etc. More importantly - the people seem pretty loose, office politics is conspicuous by its absence and there's no stress. It helped that I landed in time for the annual company kickoff outing and bonded with colleagues in a manner that only the inebriated can! I mean, the CEO spilled red wine over my brand new white shirt - what more could a new joinee ask for???

So, by and large, I'm happy. I miss Bombay a little and all the people that make it special... but most of them aren't around any more anyways. C'est la vie, I guess.

Updates all around...

The last month's been hectic and slightly stressful. I broke out the news about my future plans to the people at work. For the random surfer - cause all 3 of my readers know this already - I'm moving to Australia, Permanent Residency visa in hand, sometime in the middle of July. I put in my resignation a couple of weeks ago and will part ways with Accenture's India Delivery Center after an insanely long (by Indian IT industry standards) 4.5 years. Bleh. There was less drama than I hoped for. My boss didn't throw a tantrum, no tears were shed and no, the absurdly generous counter-offer was not made. Oh well.

So I'm excited about moving. I find myself thinking about it a LOT... partly because I don't have a job yet. I have a couple of firms that I'm talking to and hopefully one of them will come through. My folks are stressed and probably have mental images of me manning some gas station in a suburb of Sydney or something. I keep telling them that that's only my Plan B. But yeah, I'm excited! New big city, being out on my own again, setting up my own place. *smiles*. Leaving Bombay is made a whole lot easier by the fact that a lot of my friends are either not around any more or they have plans to move out. But it's still going to be tough. :(

With typically lousy timing, work has hit a bad patch... one of those 14+ hours a day stretches that invoked snide comments about how I was working harder in my notice period that at any other point in time. So I struggle to divide time between friends and the family at home. The result is guilt anywhichways. *sigh*

But I'm totally loving today. It's a Sunday and I'm just spending the day catching up on email, youtube shit, email, friends' blogs...

And now... The Random Updates Paragraph:
I'm still sufficiently turned off by Indian cricket, but reading about the tour of England coming up I felt a flicker of interest. But only a tiny one. Also turned off by Amitabh in-your-face-ponytail-and-all Bachchan. (This is how sickening it's gotten - I wanted to check on the spelling of Bachchan and instinctively picked up the newspaper over google. I found it on the first page I looked at!). And Sivaji, the latest Rajni flick, has gripped my imagination. My office lunch gang tried to get tickets for the movie at Aurora but got laughed all the way out of Matunga. The Federer-Nadal final was much-awaited and turned out to be pretty diluted. MadCat's gotten knocked up again. I'm craving an external hard disk - 3.5K for an 80 gig. So cheap... but then again, my being jobless is a rather compelling argument against the buy. Also craving an Adidas tee-shirt. I feel a dose of retail therapy coming up. Who all have seen the Happy Dent ad (maharajah's palace setup) and not loved it? Tell us your names so we can lynch you and be at peace.

Sunday lunch awaits. Later.