Out in the Cold

I recently traveled to the heartland of the US - Wichita Kansas to be precise. Its one of the larger cities in the mid west which I guess, thanks to its past history of industrial prosperity, still maintains a sense of dignity and purpose in an otherwise list of places which are slowly becoming increasingly insignificant corners of the world.
Flying @ 40000 ft,as we began our desent in to Mid Continental Airport, Wichita the thought that came to me instantly was poetic - 'how lovely the snow looks!! Like the whole ground is covered by a spotless white soft carpet as far as the eye can see. Rivulets, hills, valleys, roads, trees all covered with the same uniform coat of purity.' Snow - its a great leveler, I thought. Treats everyone and everything equal.
But the moment I stepped out of the aircraft, the poet in me died an instant death. I was hit with the 'cold' reality of how cold it really was. Note to self - technology can tell you what the temprature is in any corner of the world at any time of the day - present or future. But it cannot tell you how COLD it is. That, one needs to experience himself.
Before leaving sunny California, I had checked the weather in Wichita on multiple weather sites . channels / newspapers - and all of them had confirmed it to be in the range of 7 F to 20 F. I was unmoved. I had been to Germany in the early months of January, had trekked at the Rohtang Pass in India, how bad could this be. Well I was about to find out.
The ride from the airport to my workplace was particularly interesting. I found out that the two minute walk from the temprature controlled airport to the rental car in the open lot was enough to chill my blood and give me an instant headache like never before. I would feel the my innards screaming as I fumbled with the keys to unlock the car. And the car, oh the car - it was like sloshed ice flowing slowly through my veins as soon as I sat in it (talk about being COLD BLOODED). It was around then - about 10 mins into my stay in Wichita I knew, if I was to survive this, I would need the works - skull caps, pairs of gloves, thermals (all in plural) and a lot of rum (not necessarily in that order).
Cut to day 2 - after having borne the brunt of day 1, I was much better prepared for day 2 with the 'works' (or so I thought). It was a deceptivly bright and sunny day. As I walked out to the parking lot of the hotel I saw the car covered with ICE (not SNOW, Ice). The windscreen, the windows, the fenders et al. And Ice unlike the nice fluffy snow STICKS. That's about when I understood the purpose of the large wooded scrub brush in the trunk of my car. I started with a jolly tune of an old nursery rhyme in mind ('This is the way we brush our teeth, brush our teeth, brush our teeth' tune) going 'This is the way we scrape the ice, scrape the ice, scrape the ice'. 2 minutes into this and all my extremities began to freeze and the tune was all but lost in the chatter of my teeth. And that was the end of that. I am not sure how long I scraped the ice - but sure enough I was traumatized and permenantly scarred for life by the time I got in the car. Now I know why folks there turn on their cars and go for a coffee !!!
The last incident which comes to my mind my encounter with a phenomenon called 'Black Ice'. Black ice are thin invisible layers of ice that form roads and pavements when temprature falls way below the freezing point of ice. The biggest problem is that being transperant one cannot see it on the road and that when you start truly believeing in Newtons 1st Law - 'An object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.' Thats exactly what happens to cars when they drive on black ice. No amount of breaking works and fortunately for me I found out about this in the hotel parking lot. A low pavement had to break my car movement when I was driving out to get some dinner. Needless to say - I parked the car back in its slot and had a microwave dinner in the hotel itself. As they say - Discretion is the better part of valour.
Having experienced such extreme harsh weather first hand my respect for the folks who live in such and even colder parts of the world has increased by leaps and bounds. Hats off folks .. and skull caps on :D :D ...

A Pinch of Salt

A few years ago, I visited the 'Chotta' or 'Small' 'Rann of Kutch' - a dry, barren, extremely inhospitable mud desert in the western India. This region - a part of the larger Rann of Kutch which borders Pakistan on the north and the Arabian sea on the south, is a flat, low-lying plane with extreme weather. During the day the sun beats down mercilessly and heats up the parched earth upto 50 Deg C and the nights it drops below freezing point. This region of India is so backward that even the Government of India has not surveyed 5000 Sq Kms of land - EVER.

And what were we doing there? As it happens, this region receives very scanty rain during a few months of Monsoon, and due to the soil composition (mostly clay,) the water does not seep in to the ground. This causes an annual 'flooding' and forms marshes and shallow water bodies in some parts of the Choota Rann. These water bodies act as temporary resting points for thousands of migratory birds including pink flamingos. This region is also home to the famous Asiatic Wild Ass.
During our stay there we had a chance to visit a tiny salt farm in the middle of nowhere. Let me paint the picture for you - Imagine flat, dry, hard, flakey ground beneath your feet, and as far as the eyes can see up to the horizon. Its so hot that a few seconds directly under the sun, and you have a parched throat and dizziness sets in. Your eyes play games with your mind, and you can see mirages all around.
There in this unrelenting and unforgiving weather, a man, with his rolled-up muddy pants was wading in shin deep salt water collected in a square 30 feet x 30 feet x 1 feet ditch. Our guide, a local chap, told us that these salt farmers were part time contract farmers during winters. In summers when there was no work on the farms in the inlands, they had to come out in the rann and earn a living for 6 months working on these salt farms. The way it works, as he explained is that, the farmer first manually digs 3 - 4 such ditches to collect the water. These ditches act as 'pans' to evapourate the saline water. For the saline water itself he digs a 10 - 25 feet deep hole in the mud (again manually) and pumps it out in to the 1st 'farm'. As the heat evapourates the water, he moves the concentrated water to the 2nd farm, and then to the 3rd till the water gives out crystals of salt. During this whole 6-month period the water has to be continously tended to and the farmer wades in the water the whole day. This is harvested and sold to merchants for a pittance. The fruits of his labour - Rs 15000 for the whole 6 months of effort. In that amount he has to manage the fuel for the pump, and his sustenance.
And even in such hardship, the farmer was as jolly as one could be in weather, enthusiastically telling us about how he hopes his son will lead a better life thanks to the salt he produces. His 10-year old son walks 2 - 3 kms to school everyday. His school is a makeshift tent over a depression in the otherwise flat terrain (to keep it relatively cooler), a small black board and a few other children of salt farmers from nearby areas.
On our way back, our guide told us that when these farmers die, and their bodies are cremated on the funeral pyre, everything is reduced to ashes - everything but their feet, which become so callous due to the wading in saline water day in and day out. And that he said is how they left their 'footprint' on earth after they were long gone.
Even today, every now and then I remember that salt farmer and this of the price he pays for adding flavour to our lives.

BEST FOOD EVER !!!

I have a theory I would like to test out. Think of the best 'anything' you've ever had. It could be - the 'best' black forest cake, the 'best' tandoori chicken, the 'best' karela (bitter gourd) curry or the best silken tofu (yucks!!) you've ever tasted. Got that 'anything' in mind? Now try and remember the time when you had that 'best' 'anything' and recollect the situation under which tasted it. Who was with you, how was the weather, what had you done before that, when was the last time you had that 'anything' - All such things. You will realize that there were many other memorable things from that experience which all contributed to making that 'anything' the best 'anything' you ever had.
Case in point - a few years ago I had the opportunity to travel to Waldorf in Bundesrepublik Deutschland - the land of automobiles, autobahns and oktoberfests. Being one of my first visits outside India for a extended period, after a few weeks I started getting homesick. And I can't say the boiled / baked / fried / mashed potatoes and the cold meats helped the situation. With this background, over one of the weekends a few of my work friends and I decided to take a roadtrip to Munich which was about 550 kms south of Waldorf . So there we were 4 guys with no experience of driving on an autobahn, in the snow, in Germany taking a 550 kms trip. Safe to say we made it without getting anyone bodily injured.
Having reached the Munich in one peice and in good spirits, we decided to head off to Hofbrauhaus am Platzl - the place we were directed by well-meaning, jolly hearted locals to taste the best beer in Munich / Germany. The setting could not have been more rustic - picnic benches and tables, plates full of food and strangers rubbing shoulders over the flowing cold brew served by spirited Bavarian women in their traditional costumes. And the brass band was playing in full flow and everyone was singing in unison. The atmosphere was so infectious that even thought the song was in german, we felt we should sing along. And then there was the the Weissbier - smooth, sweet, smokey, truly a masterpiece. Those two mugs of beer I had there were surely among the best BEER I have ever had. But it was the whole experience of being in a new place, with friends and friendly strangers and a road trip which made the experience truly worth remembering as the BEST BEER I EVER HAD.
The point I am trying to make is food and drink in itself is only a part of the experience. Its the totality of the experience that makes it so unique, so amazing, so memorable. And all that is then attributed wrongly, thought without malaise or mal-intent, to the food itself. The joy of tasting that truly delectable 'anything' is a combination of the 'anything' itself, the time, the place, the company and the circumstances under which one experiences the moment. That how you get the 'Best' food you have ever eaten.

American Chow I - Buffalo Wingsssss

Love them or hate them - but can't ignore them. That's the story with Chicken Wings in most parts of the US. This snack is mostly known as 'buffalo wings' - and yes I am about to answer your question. As any god fearing, peace loving, Indian I too wondered why is this name - 'Buffalo' - does it have buffalo meat? Does the reddish sauce have buffalo blood? Yikes !!! Not that I mind - I'd eat anything as long as it does not crawl down my throat. People who have qualms about eating cakes with eggs but not boiled eggs, eggs but not chicken, chicken but not red meat ... 'Hypocrites' - I tell you. My philosophy is simple - 'Cook it and i'll eat it' (Sushi being an exception - that I love just the way the Japs made it).
Bottom line - I dont discriminate between animals which are cooked. I eat - indiscriminately.

Back to wings - So whilst I was on one of my eating binges I asked the waitress with a smirk on my face - So why's this called 'Buffalo' wings - does it have buffalo meat. She gave me a 'blonde'- look pat came a reply - what's a Buffalo? So another revelation - Americans dont know what buffalos are.

Anyway - Google to the rescue (as always). It turns out - this snack was 'invented' in a place called Anchor Bar in Buffalo, NY and hence the name. Ahhhhhh - Unagi, I was aware!!!!

So while in the US I have had wings almost every week -come on I mean - Deep fried meaty goodness with some tangy, spicy sauce - what's there not to like. In the mid west - its practically there on every menu along with ribs (I suspect there's a law which warrants it :).

So for the greater good of mankind, I have been since eating wings as and when I find them on the menu, looking for the best of the best. My journey has taken me from the wings @ fast food chains (yucks) to speciality joints like Dave's. One chain and its sauces deserve special mention here - Buffalo Wild Wings (not too much ingenuity with the names eh ??). Their Mango Habenaro sause wings really make you go yippieeeee!! Finally I needed to go to the place where it all began ... Anchor Bar @ Buffalo, NY.

So very much against sane judgement and many reviews warning me that Anchor Bar was too touristy to serve anything worth eating, I dragged my wife to this 'historic' watering hole while on a trip to Niagara Falls. But one step in there and I was sold - the ceiling was covered with BIKES - life-size vintage bikes. All the walls were covered with autographed letters of appreciation from who's-who of American folklore, articles from every newspaper ever that published even a line mentioning Anchor Bar and pictures of celebrities who wet their beaks here. Now that what I call - 'IN YOUR FACE'.

And then came the Wings - succlent, spicy and hottt.. And a glass of icy cold Honey Brown to wash it all down. I swear I could hear bells going off in my head and angels singing Hallelujah Hallelujah !!!

As the guys @ 'Highway on my plate' with say - Food Quote of the day -

During the day Mother Nature played the game,

To go on the Hurricane Deck - were We Insane ??

But after Anchor Bar

Chicken Wings would never be the same ...

Does Microsoft REALLY increase productivity??

This post is actually an extension of my comments on Vinni Mirchandani's thought that i-Pad could become the next big thing in an enterprise - http://dealarchitect.typepad.com/deal_architect/2010/03/how-liberating-the-ipad-will-be.html
So here are my 2 cents ...
How many presentations do we make in a day - now I don't mean 'Presentations' as in how many times we present an idea or a thought to a group of people. I mean how many .ppt / .pptx documents do we churn out in a day? How many .doc do we fill and how many .xls do we save on our laptops? Don't really keep a count do we? And how many of them do we recycle and reuse and rework in to newer versions? Ohh come on - We just care about the environment and that's why we recycle and reuse - don't We?
Just give it a thought - Microsoft has sold over 70 million copies of Office till 2007 and thats on top of some 60 million copies of vista. And I am not even speaking of the countless computers running on pirated copies.
How much value do we really add by creating documents after documents which anyone seldom reads let alone uses?
That gets me back to the iPad blog by Vinnie. In part I agree that maybe ipad or any tablet PC or any other such contraption may help in expressing ourselves more creatively / easily. After all - all one does on it is 'touch'.
But (yes, yes there is always a but) - what if we go the other way. Pundits had envisaged a paperless office with the advent of email and omnipresence of computers in offices - but what happened. Printing went out of the roof thanks cheaper printing options at the touch of a button.
What if we end out 'touching' a bit too much. And the 'touchy' species we have become - may be its not such a good idea. What happened to the good ol' whiteboard and markers I say ??

PS - Microsoft should start charging people on a 'pay-per-use' model. Then only one of the two things would happen - Microsoft will become bigger and more profitable than ever before or we would stop this nonsense of churning out garbage and wasting our company's money and get to work!!!

The modern torture machines

So who in his sane mind goes about paying people to strap oneself to a seat, listen to instructions like 'Don't let go of the safety guards' followed by insanely loud and incoherent music and then get violently thrown around at breakneck speed for a minute until one feels that his life should end there and then. Well many people do - last estimates some 3 million idiots - yearly. And I was one of those 3 million idiots today when I thought I was brave enough to ride a roller coaster. The monster in question - The 'Giant Dipper' in Santa Cruz, Ca.

But wait, this was not the stupidest thing I did. When someone wants to subject himself to such torture the least he / she does is make sure he is getting into a relatively new, technologically advanced and hence safer contraption. But no, what's the fun in that. Lets get in to a relic built in 1924 by a nut job in a mere 47 days and $50,000. ONLY 47 days - my god !!! And the US National Park Service has recognized this roller coaster as a National Historic Landmark status in 1987. Its the 6Th oldest roller coaster in the US, for heavens sake!!! Why then, I ask, are people still allowed to ride it. Why not just stand by the serene sea-shore and watch this monster in this complete glory. Light it up in the evenings maybe, throw in a couple of empty carriages rolling up and down. But we humans, we are funny creatures. We like to torture and torment and inflict excruciating pain on ourselves from time to time by subjecting ourselves to such monstrosities.

So there I was, a ticket in my hand, my knees barely able to hold the weight of my body, sweat oozing out of every pore, as the sweet lady (I swear, I could see her devil's horns and a striking resemblance to Cruella DeVille in her smile) monitoring the console signalled me to take a seat in one of the pods.
And then it started, and so did my palpitation. It said 1.52 minutes of run-time; but it felt like hours to me. Up and down, round and round, left and right, it just would not stop. And just about when I thought it was all over, the 'Grand Finale', the last slump, the final act (how fitting eh??), my rear side lost contact with my pod and that was it - I gave up. I don't know if I was unconscious or I was just reaching the gates of heaven. I don't really remember the next 3 - 4 or may be 10 minutes; all I could think of was - why the hell did I think I could do this?

Wiki Answers Says - There is 1 in 300 million chance of dying in a roller coaster accident. You have better chance of dying from from crossing the street. You know what - I'll take my chances on a street, when I don't have to pay and walk into a death trap.

Cha-Cha-Cha'ing in San Francisco

The forecast said dull, moist, cloudy and rainy - and rainy it was. But free spirits that we were, a 'forecast' would not deter us. The plan was a drive through Half moon bay and have lunch at Cha Cha Cha on Haight Street in San Francisco. But as we got stuck on the north-bound freeway 101 we started having second thoughts. Until finally, we saw a sign on the road-side 'fresh strawberries and artichokes'. And fresh they were. The juiciest, sweetest strawberries freshly picked from the farms nearby were just perfect as the rains drizzled down on the country side roads.
And as we reached Cha Cha Cha on Haight street the heavens had opened up and it was raining quite briskly. As luck would have it, we got free parking - It was a good day.
The ambience was pretty rustic with tables arranged amongst large pots with tropical plants. But then just about the time when one may be tempted to write this off, the Sangria started flowing; and the table was filled with tapas plates - sauteed mushrooms with garlic, sherry and olive oil, fresh potatoes with chipotle sauce and Jamaican jerk chicken.

And we understood what the big deal about this place was. The food was awesome, the service was courteous and most of all the Sangria was great. The day was made. The Cha Cha Cha had us dancing to its tunes from the first sip.
All in all - had a great 'rainy' day in San Francisco.