Turkey-Truly delightful

Turkey is like this matriarch elder sister.She nourished our body,mind and soul alike
So we kick started this long planned vacation by dear husband from Cappadocia . Not participating in planning gives one the advantage of being taken by surprise completely.  Not being primed by any pictures the place just hit me.The terrains are lunar and winds have carved some crazy figurines called fairy chimneys in the limestone rocks.Erosion done good. An elf here and a fairy there.A Cave with all amenities as our accommodation. Whoever thought one can actually live in a cave outside marooned island romantic movies.


Hot air balloon ride notwithstanding the cold weather n early morning awakening is magical. Even more magical is watching over a 100 lit balloons going up in the air at dawn break.

Underground cities dug out of rocks where humans and animals shared living spaces is unimaginable in today’s times of nuclear living dwellers These caves even housed altars for prayers.Lit by linseed oil they apparently served as a safe haven from relentless invasions, from man n nature
Amol had a new phobia here- “get stuck in the cavobia”


During our 2000km drive across Turkey we stopped by villages that did not  have a restaurant but the people are friendly to offer tea and give elaborate dumb charade directions in exchange for a hug from weary Hindistanis(that is how they know us Indians and they are very FOND of our movies)

A quick word about this wonderful car that ferried us around T. Audi A6...I think cars are a means of transport and a rounded bum car looks good.And honestly my knowledge about automobiles is just that much
But this car is the most luxe thing I have been in...speeds of 180kmph and she did not sweat....not a single bump she let us feel even on the cobbled pathways of old Isthanbul City. preWarmed seats and steering filled me with warmth in my chest.Childhood memories came gushing in. My Elder sister used to warm that one mug of water to wash my hands in cold winters after dinner. Luxury that day took a completely different emotion...thoughtfulness replaced arrogance.

Local cuisine is yummm, familiar for us as the food is cooked with spices
Testi kabab meat cooked in clay pots , opened just before serving
Pide- pizzas ancestor

Sarma- chicken/meat wraps
Aubergines with meat kebab(now that is salvation for the aubergines)
Served with pomegranate sauce laced salads and unlimited supply of bread and a whole load of  love
My boys lapped it all up with gusto n me with guilt galore . Washed down with white wine of angora grapes the entire country is  one heady destination.
Partially preserved cave paintings by Christian monks by the Ihlara valley and  Mendes river strikes a resemblance to our Ajanta caves by the river Waghur
Probably prerequisite for peace n art - valley river mountains

Turkish is a mashup of our Hindi in Latin script
Kitap for book
Dikkat for caution
Havalimani for havaiadda aka airport
but try as much as one wants they cant understand Hindi and only a smattering of English


Pammukale is another mysterious natural wonder...looks like ice but is warm....Expect freezing cold there but people in bikinis getting their diva moment. It is all that and some more than what is shown in so many our Indian movies.

Gallipoli is their war campaign historical site. An unsuccessful amphibious attack by the English and Anzacs over the Ottomans. It visited by Australians n New Zealanders as a piligrimage every year. This bloody war site is covered with white graves spread over 33000 hectares now only softened with red poppies and lush meadows n pine trees.Steve Waugh brought his team here to inspire team bonding over history lessons before the Ashes. ( trivia which made us take a 500km detour for the cricket crazy husband) My ignorant being was enriched by the greatness of the Turk legacy and the one man Mustafa Kemal aka Ataturk ( literally translates to Father of Turkey) who has shaped mordern Turkey by his vision...

He anglicized Turkish, banned polygamy and gave women equal rights in the early 19 th century and many more ...but they had me at women = equal rights. My heart was already won.


Isthanbul like other mega cities is touristy,pricey,crowded,    and yet spectacular !

Hagia Sofia Mosque is truly beautiful... a church for 500 years and now a mosque for 900 years...mother Mary to the east and the mosque's mihrab, the semicircular niche in the wall of a mosque that indicates the “qibla”, the direction of the Kaaba in Mecca and hence the direction that Muslims face to pray slightly off east.
 Blue mosque was under restoration..
.Topkapi palace museum's imperial treasury was also under restoration .Their star exhibit ...86 carat spoonmaker diamond also was not for display but we saw Islamic relics and a Imam recites the Quran here everyday from the 16 century nonstop.
The Bhosphorus cruise is all that it promises...The intercontinental bridge across Asia and Europe is a geographical wow moment

The bylanes of Turkey make for fun local experience.Turkey like China is a mass production place for clothes and shoes and leather.

Another funfact is that tulips were first grown in the Ottoman empire, erstwhile Turkey and from here exported  to Holland in the sixteenth century. And from the time Amitabh n Rekha immortalised Tulips in  Silsila, my young heart was impatient  to see them in petals and sepals  ..Kashmir,Delhi, Amsterdan ...... anywhere asap but it was not meant to be fro nearly 4 decades. And I saw my first TULIPS here , right in their mothers lap.That was some kinda sign. Paulo Coelho says one should look for signs, omens.

          'Omens are an alphabet you develop to talk to the world's soul'

 My Tulip moment -  all things happen at the time they are meant to happen...not one moment less or more
So here is a toast..to travels...happy times....tulips .... and a truly delightful Turkey

I am not an one 100 wonder

I did my first cycling 100km.
I was applauded like I had climbed the Everest by friends and family. Even I felt the same. Thanks F&F . I am indeed very lucky to be surrounded by such encouraging souls
So I have been there and done that , so why did I sign up for another 100
Well honestly, in my heart I felt the first 100 was just a fluke... kind of freak lucky day ..., so was I a one 100 wonder , I wondered
The thing about doing even the greatest thing the second time is that it never gets it’s due
This time it was a no frills 100km with just 5 of us slipping away in the wee hours of the morning. The good husband just slept through my purposeful loud early morning hustle. Not even a cursory All the best.... hmmmmph
I had no clue about the route and felt as unprepared as my son was for the Sanskrit exam . And that is the lowest One can feel. You have to trust me on that one

The venue and the lights and the music and the organisers and the balloons
Like the little elves who work their magic in the dark to leave us smiling in the morning
We started upbeat and I lauded myself for all  my good deeds . My previous 100 , my core strength sessions , my full marathon, generally the sun , moon and the stars
Being happy and confident has one big disadvantage. It blurs the weakness till one has wandered off to the loneliness
After the first happy stretch and wearing off  of my “confidence endorphins” I was searching  for the cycling beacon. Enter a senior cyclist from VCC, who let me draft him through the slopes. Apparently it cuts 30% of the efforts . Encouraged me by just staying by my side. I just took it all in so thankfully . Towards the end I even felt guilty about being the unworthy receiver. Sorry Sir. The young generation sucks but does not forget to be grateful. Thank you Sir
The finish line was just as happy.. Music in the muscles,venue and photos and ice creams.All was so beautiful once again and I am no longer a one 100 wonder.



Cycling pearls in my limited experience
      1.There is socialism in the sport
A soft spoken unassuming cyclist from our club turns out to be a very important high ranking official
Apparently he can summon a helicopter and people address him with such respect that one usually reserves for the first citizen of the country
There may have been many more important people there but on that day we were all cyclists- equals in the eyes of wheels and derailleur


      2.Endurance sports are meant to be endured
Nobody may applaud you for the same feat done twice over but the pain -physical,mental,cyclological doesnot lessen the second time. It hurts just as much


       3. I ride to write.
Me even thinks that I do this better than I ride. Maybe if I keep at it I can someday write well

.

I LIVED. To tell the tale

I had a couple of other title name options for this blog

A full before forty

A runner is born

Now all bipeds can walk. That’s basic. If we walk a little faster like on a trot, it is a run. If we run for long enough it is a marathon. This is what I honestly thought till today. Save your laughs for later. There are more stupid confessions coming your way.

Endurance sport is a mind game right. So, I had learnt all the little tricks to fool my body with my mind. I just left out one small aspect. I didn’t train my body enough for this long haul. So, mind over matter just doesn’t matter.

I got introduced to running by R. He can easily be the Dronacharya of runners in Goa for the sheer number of people who run inspired by him. Thanks to him & his beautiful wife  by his side always ,anyone on the peninsular side  of Goa thinks they can run .He called me a ‘natural’, at running 2 years back .(Just a couple of weeks before the marathon I heard him say that to another newbie, something to do with encouragement I am guessing) But I am a  C grade in PE through school & a sucker for praise. I fell for it. I called running my primary sport and myself Vasco Sussegad Runner. Everything else was for the sake of cross training. I spoke the running lingo. Dec 2017 – 10 km, Feb 2018- half marathon and the next day I wanted to do A Full Before Forty. I know cheesy line, but it stuck. I take complete responsibility for this temporary insanity because family and friends did not veil their displeasure at my attempt.

The event Goa River Marathon is organised by Vasco Sports Club members, bonded together by love for running and fuelled by happy hours. It features in the top 5 marathons of the country & not without a reason. It was also home turf for me. Fellow runners and family would watch out for me. Training started at the VSR school. Here runs were always accompanied by organic fruits, home baked cakes, lots of gardening and Good Housekeeping tips. Morning runs were social events. Eventually I graduated to VSR college. They are the running quadruplets who had taken up a 100-day challenge to run everyday, come rain or shine. Hard Core Stuff. But they kid gloved me and I eased into real running. As hindsight I should have trained harder at college. But it was not to be and I found out the hard way on the race day.

2018 ends for me on December 9

The race day

All my being was channelled into the grand culmination of my debut Full marathon

I was so scared that I even said my final byes to family. Even if I made it through this one, I would come back as a new me. So, bye old “C in PE” Me and A runner will be born or martyred maybe.

Running pearls

1.       In a full marathon the race starts after 25 kms.one who runs hence after is a winner and an honourable finisher

2.       It is mind over matter only when the muscle matter is reaaaallllly good aka training. Else one will be left mindfully breathing in and out till even that hurts

3.       Every muscle, sinew, tendon is used to run a full marathon. So, train all of them. I had to spray muscle relaxant on my stomach, back, neck, even hands during the run…just imagine

4.       Running is a sport and is supposed to be competitive but the comraderie shown is exemplary. I needed all of it to get to the finish line

5.       Towards the end I was so sloshed that walking hurt so much that running felt better. Running paradox maybe. Or my mind playing games due to dyselectrolytemia

6.  The good thing about running a marathon is that I got to pig out on curd rice ( in the name of carb loading) and yummmmmmmy energy bars painstakingly made by a dearie ( who holds the recipe as a family secret, lest someone asks for it)

PS

Title clincher

A full before forty- when the dark thoughts clouded my head, I thought I might not make it to my fortieth and it is going to be a tarry grave for me and it was too cheesy.

A runner is born- Well a person who respects the endurance that it takes to scramble to the finish line is definitely born

So, it is I lived to tell this tale of me eating the humble pie.  A thankful pie- I finished just in time to qualify for a finisher medal. Thankful for the numerous runner friends who stayed back to welcome me at the finish line. Thankful I made it back alive .

My first hundred and Vasco cycling club

It takes a whole village to bring up a child....well it took the entire Vasco cycling Club to bring out the cyclist in me who could complete a full hundred on the saddle

If the ride is not on strava then you have not ridden at all

From a being a academic geek throughout my life to being the endurance athlete (well, a  100km in 5:22 time qualifies by amateur standards) and facebook comments of being called the superwoman I have lots of people to thank for.

So this blog is more of a valedictory speech , so bear with me.

First things first.....

I used to ride a pink BSA Lady bird all my grown up years, through college, through my first job as a resident , a consultant ....till one day when I took the Sunday group ride with the Vasco Cycling Club. A guy, who has a way with words said that they are scared they would get tetanus from my Rusty.. Ouch.  A big eyed cyclist remarked if the cycle had ever seen sunlight and tar . A young cyclist just ruled me out when I wanted to join in for a long distance ride with them on my girl. Another cyclist made me try a cycle 3 times my size just to get me off my Rusty....ouch ouch ouch

The message was loud and clear.... Buy the Bike which is worth this Club

So here Comes Morphine{She is addicting n I cant get off her literally}– A hybrid but with a road biology” Marin Fairfax SC3 “after a lot of deliberation and research and a kind generous gesture from the husband

My breaking in the new cycle rides was full of kind advice from all the cyclicts members.A really sweet cyclist spent an entire long ride trailing with me till I got the hang of  the gears and to prevent cross chaining. But I was riding in the wrong gear all the time. An endurance guy told me my cadence was way too high n my gear low  n I will burn out...A high cadence guy told me I was riding in a very high gear n the cadence very low and it is a bad thing. Incidentally they were both brothers... A veteran told me now starts the real fun,” the gadgets that I need to add on to become a better cyclist is going to cost more than the bike” Hmmmm

What really got me hooked on the cycle was that they all cared and the Vasco cycling club had my back. Sunday rides were planned by the picturesque routes and the breakfast even more meticulously planned  . My paranoia about getting lost and being separated from the larger group also was addressed with fellow cyclists who would wait for the slow cyclist by the “definitely will be missed turns”

This was a cycling Walhalla....till ........

In a group there are all kinds of people. Marketing head of Vasco Cycling group sold me into signing up for the Xaxti 100 ... an upcoming endurance 100km cycling event

Now I could barely be on the saddle for an hour and a half.....grumble about the rolling hills,heat,my hunched back on the cycle...and I got sold  ...That is the skill of the marketing guys..They always sell a product that one can neither afford nor really enjoy but you walk out of the shop feeling on top of the world.

So here I had registered for the 100km event.. Next couple of weeks if anyone cared to steal my google search data and analyse it would reveal a “cyclopath personality”  I got nowhere..I have a doctor collegue cyclist to thank for his advice and time, which he so willingly shared inspite of his crazy times. I practiced hills, cadence, endurance, time trials in ways my crazy schedule would allow...And I thought I was ready to go. Ha

The club members had worked out small details like the waiver forms were not only collected from all of us, but also printed and kept ready for us to sign (just in case). Our club jerseys reached all of us in time for the event. Cyclist ,cars, racks, home made energy bars,support vehicles all arranged for the wee hours  in the morning-  All this precision  without  an officiating body...Just individual members working in well oiled togetherness.

On the day of the event I observed a few things

1.              Cycling is a sport of man and machine . Both play equal roles for best results. Better the roadie ,higher are the speeds
2.          Age has nothing to do with fitness. An endurance sport is played with the mind. Veterans competed with youngsters and won pedals down.
3.            In cycling we watch each others back.So heartening to see complete strangers help each other with flats, hydration, pep talk and whatever it takes to reach the finish line
4.         Endorphin release at the finish line is worth all the pain of being seated hunched and bunched for 5 h:22
5.      The joy of finshing the hundered is the same for all ,............................................................across timing (3:30vs5:30),cycles(roadie/ MTB/hybrid),age,gender.    
6. All is well that ends well.And I completed my first century just like that.Thanks Vasco cycling club for having my back and the saddle.This one is for all of you.

s

s

La Italia

 After hours of internet research to plan our trip , Venice was the place to land in Italy to sweep us off our feet. Pre monsoon winds in Goa diverted our flight and threw us off schedule.We did land in Venice albiet a little later after an extra flight , another place thrown in for free and finally lost luggage at destination.The tourist information closed at the airport at 12 midnight and reviews of Italians fleecing tourists nearly made us lose our bearings.But the smart Indian travelers that we were , the last bus to the city and the last water bus to our hotel and the numbers on the walls identifying every dwelling unit in Venice landed us in Locanda Correr. A quaint hotel room with Venetian blinds after flying for nearly 24 hours looked like a room in paradise.










Landing at night robbed us of all the awe of landing in Venice but that was the end of all the bad things on the trip.With the daybreak Venice in the warm Italian summer lived upto the years of expectations of a giddy headed love lorn fool like me.The water soothes. Dont let anyone fool you that the gondola ride in the alleys of Venice is very touristy and only for the honeymooning money throwing rich tourists.The gondola ride is one of those moments that I would want to take to my grave.


The bridge of sighs is a misnomer and nothing romantic that I had conjured up in my head after years of M&Bs. It is a small window overlooking the canals through which the prisoner could catch a glimpse of freedom before being locked away in his dungeon.

The Doge's palace is magnificent and was my first visual introduction to the renaissance art and culture. Piazza San Marco is lined by the Cathedral, bell tower, clock tower and all the prominent structures of an European extravaganza.

As the night falls the cafes around the Piazza come alive with music, serenades which when coupled with local Italian cuisine makes one feel like the luckiest person on earth.


Vicenza
A short train ride to Vicenza w
Florence
Lake Como
Milan

Dreamy France

Title disclaimer-I have grown up on a more than required dose of Mills and Boons / romcoms.  France with my beau has always been my cherished dream. From the beau days I have transformed into this family of three, brooding mother hen but the dream always remained
If Amol had to write this blog he would have titled it France - A Drive in holiday A6/Quattro/3L/330hp.
BTW he can't pen anything more than official letters but thinks a lot otherwise. Ahem!.

Nice---pronounced as neece
French disclaimer #1 - लिकते कुछ हैं और बोलते कुछ अलग ही हैं

A coastal town by the famed French Riviera , a hot bed for all my teenage M&B on a sunny yet cool day is where we began. Amol incensed with his dose of Bond movies vroomed to Antibes . An ancient village , white brick walls, a road that winds around the Riviera and a food van that served lovely fish n chips had got all our elements covered.

 Every single pebble on the coast was rounded. Mother nature has been indeed very kind to them.

A looong night drive to Montagnac- Montpezat.
A cardinal sin on the day one has just landed in the country with barely a few winks of sleep between a movie marathon on the Qatar infotainment in the past 24 hours.
But God is also kind to tourists in France....
We were richly rewarded by the most succulent lamb(slow cooked for 7 hours apparently) accompanied by the French red wine n slipped into a quick food coma.



Drive to the Verdon Gorges-

French disclaimer #2 - One wants to stop at every passing scenic spot for a picture but keep driving on  with a steel grit. The final destination can blow you away (literally)
Patience pays

A narrow ledge overlooking a very deeeeep gorge with green water flowing down and wind that was blowing so strong that I had to hold on to dear life on the railings.

Col du Galiber
A spine chilling drive to the heights of French Alps. Missed lunch due to the very strict French policy of no food outside 2pm and missing Adi's cues of La La Laa La at every restaurant point before 2pm.

 Hot omelette n coffee served by septuagenarians at that height, peppered with his stories told with a toothy grin, heightened our experience at the Col

The Final Destination - Valmeinier

the Nordic bath

The autumn colours were at its best on the Rhones Alps...coloured, shaped, crisped to perfection

The best host hosts of our trip prepared a Nordic Bath ( an open air hot 38 C bath with a 5 C cold mountain air blowing on the face) and a hot dinner of tartiflette (a traditional Rhone French recipe with potaoes ,cheese and ham) to follow, in a cozy yet all containing stone and log cabin. We set new standards for our European holidays with this single day in our trip

French disclaimer #3- The French are thin because they eat up their consonants in the words - calorie free ; guilt free
(Saint Lazaras-  pronounced as Salazar)

Col de Iseran
Coldest day of the trip 0 C

a young man in shorts clicked this photo at 0 degrees

Roads- windy and drive into nothingness on the mountains ,as if we would fall over at the end of it. The feeling that sailors must have had while sailing in vast oceans , when theydid not know the world was round

Chamonix
A charming valley in the Alps that has a view of the snow capped mountains from every single spot in the village.

Hike to glacier Bossons

A trek to humour me in the morning and an amazing paragliding off the peaks  in the afternoon (more about it later) rounded off with pulled pork burger and steak n fries in the evening. Net flix in the Air B&B accommodation scored over the lovely view of the bossons glacier view from the balcony
Paragliding - the HIGHlight of the trip
A cable car ride to Plan de Aiguille normally would have had us all excited . But what followed with our 3 copilots for  the tandem flight was breathtaking. Refer French disclaimer #2
A cool 30 minutes flight like a bird with wind beneath the wings.Over the glaciers ,valleys, tutorials about the thermal currents lifting us HIGHER, letting us maneuver the flight, some mid air acrobatics(felt like a cool roller coaster) . an item ticked off the bucket list.


Drive to Borges-

French disclaimer #4-  100 residents ,a dozen villas , 1 castille, lots of hiking paths n cycling trails and a big car showroom makes for a French village 

A long drive through the French motorways, toll gates intercepted perfectly with a nice coffee break in a sleepy village Paray-Le-Monial
we ended up with beautiful fotos , designer shoes for Amol and the coffee was btw
We reached our destination accomodation real late and the place was deserted.
Barking hounds, creaky iron gate, broken dongless bell, empty estate, wind rustling up the fallen autumn leaves, horse piss suddenly filling the air and a really wrinkly old lady as the host. She ran her bony gnarled fingers up Adi's cheek and said,"you have a nice face". I was sure she had marked her meat for later. That dark night had all 3 of us cuddled up in a  single bed . By the morning we saw the autumn leaves had carpeted the ground in multiple hues, 2 real horses by the stable and real big lovely dog called Nyha. But "you have a nice face" will remain as a Mahaldar heirloom spook.



French disclaimer  #5
From the French revolution till now the French common man is still troubled by their huge taxes

On to Paris
Lake Geneve/ Lac Leman as the French call it- The French border is midway in this lake ,more so  a fresh water sea. I ran along its shore and emerged with the distinction of running between 2 countries. Amol humoured this too.

Stopped at Versailles for a half day tour of the palace.Crowded, Arty, historical and very huge.A train ride around the much touted gardens gave some solace to our aching feet.


Pari finally......................

Eiffel...The first thing we saw as soon as we entered the famous city
Traffic ...what we saw after the excitement of Eiffel settled


The city was all that I grew up on.The books and the movies showcase the city and the city has lived up exactly for so many years, in the same way.Amazing
River Seine intercepted intermittently richly with the archaic bridges
The love locks wherever Parisians can find a hook(much like our holy threads around our banyan tress)
The Notre Dame Cathedral- (translates to Our lady ie Paris) the stain glass and the facade
The Louvre-The Monalisa and the pyramid
The Arc de Triumph- like our Gateway of India in Delhi- similar history too
Champ de elysse- The shopping mecca
All by foot powered with different flavours of crepes
Lived the dream ..... will continue living the dream

sunrise over the river Seine

An early morning jog to the Eiffel and back through the grand sights of the city chuffed the runner in me . The dream was getting dreamier. Is that even possible...is that even a word...{the lady Bard in} me

Jog to the Eiffel 

by the night

View of the city at sundown from the Eiffel is for the luckiest people on earth and I knew 3  that day.... lights , cold crisp winds, more lights and more cold crisp winds, the dazzle every hour on the Eiffel, Adi clicking snaps of Amol n me ,uncaring of his cold fingers time has frozen that moment forever for us.


The mandatory flea market shopping in every city , lots of the famed French beauty elixir shopping for me , a little of the French moda for the fashioista in me were the final parting shots of the city daylights.
Sundown from MontParnasse and to see the Eiffel light up and even glitter for a few moments is what we will remember this holiday by......glitteratti  #  dreams do come true # 

The mango pilgrimage

A little bit of history to start with. A good 80 years ago my grandma with her brood including my dad, then a toddler was travelling by train from Chennai to Kolkatta. Leaving out the gross details (how it is always narrated by my aunts), my dad cried from the word go. His elder sister found a way to calm him by giving him a mango to suck on. This worked. A toddler dad  polishing a crateful of mangoes and the gastronomic consequences thereby have been anecdotal in my family ever since.

Fast forward to 2003. Me a young bride then, confessed to my family how mangoes talk to me and how the urge to eat mangoes mindless of  the time of the day cannot be supressed. The Chandran Mahaldars have always taken their Mango very seriously.I have the annual Mango weight gain going up a few dress sizes, resulting from indiscriminate consumption of atleast a dozen mangoes at one go. I battle the extra baggage over the next 10 months till it is time for the next season of sheer golden fructose bliss. My cheeks glow golden and the house smells ethereal with the ripening mangoes.

Goa, a former Portuguese colony has a special variant of the alfonso mango called the Mancurad. For the non initiated there is no tangible difference between the two. The mancurad has a golden yellow  fibrous mantle but is nectar sweet  upto the seed and comes in the market before the other mangoes of the season. In Goa they are sold at the price of gold and a exingency mango budget in the summer months has to be allocated if my mango cravings have to be satisfied. An hours drive out of Goa into Maharashtra takes one into a mango haven for lesser mortals.In Vengurla  the Goan Mancurad is sold at half the price and being a port town fresh fish is an added bonus. we do this annual Mahaldar Mancurad route to maharashtra and this time we were rewarded with the  pristine beach with shimmering golden sand against the setting sun.