Weekends

Ever since I was a kid, and well into teenage, then college and now as a 30 year old grown-up (sad, I know), weekends have had this lovely relaxing quality to them. O come on, you'd say. Weekends are supposed to be relaxing, why would you say like you discovered that. Yeah, I know, but I'm just gonna run with it and describe my idea of a perfect weekend here, Ok? Ok.

So, on a Saturday or a Sunday morning, as kids, its wake up and get dressed (we used to despise that in the joint family, and hence ended up giving up ablutions on weekends altogether when we moved to a different city in a nucelar family). Then it would be the wholesome Sunday programming that would start with Rangoli, have Jungle Book, TaleSpin, Duck Tales (all in Hindi) and that's the peak. We would switch off the TV as soon as the Spirit of Unity Concerts used to come up. Although we should've seen those. Would've put some more culture into our heads, no?

And then, it was 12 o clock and time for lunch. The anticipation of food started right around Jungle Book, with frequent visits to the kitchen to see what was brewing and those lovely smells. O sweet and sour Gujarati tuver ni daal, I can write poems about you. Or the simple tindora-nu-shaak or the tindora nu sukku (dry) athanu (pickle) to accompany it. And as we started eating, there would garam garam rotli with ghee all over it served right into our plates. Bliss that was, I tell you. No fancy mithai this and samosa that. We were all healthy eaters and there wouldn't be any of that unhealthy fried nonsense at meals. Nono, not even on weekends. That was reserved only for special occassions, like birthdays. A birthday should be celebrated with a Sheera or a Basundi or some other such thing along with Dhokla (the white ones, again poem-worth) and green chutney. The simple culinary delights of the Gujarati kitchen are manifold. On a tangent, not that there weren't any sweets in the household on weekends. Its just that they were those dry sweets which are stored in dabbas. Like adadiya or golpapdi or chikki or some other such delightful treat. They were around pretty much every day, owing to our family's weakness for the sweet stuff.

Well, so that was when we were kids, and then we grew up (why why why!?!?!?!) and moved out of home. Even so, this need for good relaxing food on weekends stayed. Be it the regular Sunday visits to Bhojan or Rajdhani or Atitthi (I think that was the name of the underground place we used to go to on 18th June road which closed down later) in Goa for lunch or even now, the visits to Taaj for idli, dosa and putu in Liberia now for Sunday brunch, coz sadly you don't get Gujarati thali here. And, Taaj has closed down. What could be more sad?

Oh, and then weekends, they should not just be about food. They should be about wholesome family entertainment as well. Like watching a Golmaal, or a Chupke Chupke or a few episodes of Mind Your Language along with people you love and having one of those gala times laughing your guts out.

Sitting right here, in Liberia, devoid of any and all entertainment and nary a Gujarati Thali in sight, we reminisce, and pray that this singular happiness of the childhood weekend can be recreated. Soon.

Pointlessness....

So, today is just one of those days. I don't feel like working. And I declined to go to Nerd Nite, though a colleague was really keen on going. And then, there's a book, waiting to be read. Nothing quite interesting, just your usual Michael Crichton novel, its called Nano or Micro or something. It invites me to bed. With a come hither look. But I don't feel drawn enough to jump into bed with it. Maybe later, by way of a sympathy read. And the left eye is twitching. Which in my culture means bad luck. And I'm superstitious about these things. And there were 2 visitors to my blog today (Yay!!). Both from my own office (yes, I can track that). Interesting times. Wonder who would've read the blog today and said. Oh! So this guy is actually nuts. Its not a facade after all. They've changed the liquid hand wash in the bathroom and it smells icky. Now I'll have to go and wash my hands with soap. Life, I'm telling you, is fraught with struggle....

The pleasure in exhaustion...

So, Gujjubhai is back to Liberia. Yesyes, I was away, bi-annual leave, India, got stuck in Ethiopia, was rescued by boss.... All that. Cut a long story short, I'm back, babe! And I'm lovin' it!

Ever since I came back, I've been trying to get into some sorta exercise routine. I've tried going to the gym, only to come back after having tread the treadmill for 15 minutes and gotten glares from the instructor for coming down too hard on the 'mill. Then I've tried walking. But that's scary in the dark where I stay, and well, not too much of an exercise, eh? More like something old people do.

So, then we're back to the original exercise, the one we've been doing since we were in Goa. In fact, I learnt how to swim in Goa only. And its a blissful exercise. If I may use some Hindi here, 'Mazaa aa gaya!'. You should try it sometime.

And you know me, overzealous kid that I am, I decided to overdo it. First time in the pool after a long time. Was just subconsciously trying to make up for lost time, I guess.

So, the first few laps I felt I was going to drown. Don't know why, but just felt like I couldn't get the rhythm right. The breathing wasn't proper. I was swallowing water. Cough! Cough! Cough! All that. But then slowly, I got into the flow. Then there was no breathlessness. And hardly any breaks between laps. People came in. People went. And I kept swimming.

Then I got really, really tired. But God knows why, I just wanted to keep on swimming. '2 more laps, that's all', I'd tell myself. And I'd just keep going. Is swimming addictive, by any chance? I must look it up.

And then, I got really, really, really tired. And it was like I was swimming on autopilot. More like drifting. Ever so slowly. On the surface of the water. The hands and the legs moved on their own. It was almost like meditation. Swimming in the blue pool in the artificial yellow spotlight, it felt magical, almost surreal. There I was, floating, blissfully, arm after arm, legs gently swaying. Arm after arm, legs gently swaying. Floating, nicely, calmly, blissfully. And then...... dank! Muscle cramp! Ouch, that hurt. Right in the middle of that deep pool. What's the depth like? 9 feet? And noone around. 'Dammit!' I thought, 'I'm definitely gonna drown today! Thakur toh giyo!'

But you know me, I'm not much of a risk taker. So, I discovered that, out of sheer habit, I was swimming right next to the edge (Yes, you can call 'Sissy!' now, but I wouldn't be writing this blog, if not for this habit of mine). And so, I grabbed onto the edge and slowly slid myself into the shallow waters. Pulled myself up onto the edge of the swimming pool. And then, for what seemed like an eternity (must have been hardly 30 seconds), I sat with my legs stretched, trying to make the cramp go away. And it just wouldn't. God only knows how I've come back to the room. I'm still pretty sure I can feel remnants of that nasty cramp in my thigh.

But, all in all, it was fun. The swim. The tiredness. The peace. Hark! Even the cramp. I think I'm gonna continue swimming. Inshallah!

PS: This really hot white girl was swimming when I came in. Had a nice little chat with her. My newly acquired bald pate is quite a conversation topic, you see. She's gonna go out tonight. Hope she comes to where I'm going. :P

Accra!!

So, this Monday, we went to Ghana to get some Khana. More specifically, we went to Accra to get some Khakhra! Ok, that's a bad Gujarati joke.The Accra trip happened for some office work. And Accra turned out to to be a breath of fresh air after the drudgery of Monrovia. It feels like a big city. It behaves like a big city.

The people in Accra are gentle. They're nice and laid back. Accra Airport (Kotoka International Airport, they call it) was agog with boards saying 'Akwaba!' This means 'Welcome!' in their local language Chvi (or Chui or Chi, as some people pronounce it). Life over here is slow and relaxed. People take their own time going about their life. At the bank, a teller was patiently attending to a lady for over half an hour and the people in line (Thank God I was not in that line) were patiently waiting their turn. Without protest. Also, they have great respect for their public places in this country. For example, at the bank again, I was standing in line to pay some money, and I just whipped out my phone and started talking to an acquaintence (you know me, I get restless easily). And the people around me started giving me dirty looks. I didn't get it. Eventually the guard came up to me and asked me to hang up please. Very politely, but in a strict schoolteacherly way. It was kinda nice, how these people respect their public places. Unlike India, where it is socially acceptable, even fashionable, to whip out your phone in a public place and start speaking at the top of your voice, with everyone evesdropping on your conversation. But then, its also efficient. I mean, you could get more work done talking on the phone while standing in line or commuting.

All in all, Accra presents itself as quite a developed city (I'm going to present some photos to you shortly, which I'm sure you've skipped ahead and already gone through) with good roads and proper traffic directions. Indeed, it might be the most developed city in all of West Africa.

So, anyway, after a hard day's work, I decided to give the taxi a pass and walk back to my hotel. It was quite a revelation. Here's a few pictures of Accra I took on my phone:

Does RIM know about this? :)

Shady poster

On the streets of Accra

Such posters dot the sidewalks on Monrovia as well

Another shady poster

More Accra traffic

Glass-fronted building next to a nullah. Remind you of Mumbai?

Rush-hour. People heading back home.

Beer!

Mercedes Benz showroom (wow)

Mosa Mosa!

Every few years, some song comes along in some unknown foreign language, which you can't understand, but it just won't get out of your head. Its easy on the ears. Its catchy. And very hummable. For example: Remember this song?

Simarik. By Tarkan. The song was catchy. It was hummable. Slightly middle-eastern sounding. And the kiss sounds had their very own shock value. At least for 1997, when the song was released and I was in school. Then they took this tune and made various songs out of it. One of the more forgettable versions was this. Ok, I can't bear this whole song (although I love Urmila), I'm closing the window.

Speaking of earworms, there's this song that I've discovered recently that is really popular in Liberia, for some reason. Listen to it.

I first heard it as the caller tune of one the people I used to call frequently for work. Again. It was nice. It was hummable. Strong instrumental interludes, just like Simarik. In fact, up until yesterday, I didn't even know what language it was in. Actually, I still don't know for sure what language it is. Yesterday, at our trusty ole Sajj (remember Sajj? I posted about it here), I discovered that its a Brazilian song. The DJ just went 'There any Brazilians in the crowd?" followed by the obligatory "Yay!" from some very drunk non-Brazillians and I think, some real Brazilians. And he put that song on. Today I googled "brazil song" and, thank god for predictive text in google, the 8th option was "Mosa". I clicked on it and lo and behold. The song that I wanted. Gosh! I was feeling lucky today (wink, wink). But I haven't told you the best part yet. The star of this song is not the singer or the lyrics (which I'm told translate to borderline offensive words) but the beautiful instrumental interlude in between. Its an accordion that keeps playing in between. And its magical. Makes you feel like you're on the beach. A very easy, relaxed feeling creeps into the soul. Yes. Go back. Listen to it once more. And more.

By the way, I forgot to ask, what's your earworm these days? I'd love to hear.

Monrovia - from my terrace

I'm too tired to for words. So, here goes: A few pictures, taken from our terrace. In the order that they were taken. No captions, nothing.

Golden Beach Cafe / Salsa night at Saaj

So, incorrigible as we are, we've been going out for dinner for the last two days. Two new places in the last two days. Sajj on Friday (for Salsa night) and Golden Beach Cafe yesterday. 'Twas fun!

Of Sajj we again heard of from our trusty Liberia expat google group. Its a Lebanese place and they had Salsa night on Friday. Well, tell you the truth, I'm not much of a dancer, but then, one's gotta have fun. So, I forwarded the invite to one of the young new guys in office, and then two more people joined in. And before I knew it, the 4 of us were in Sajj. It was nice. Good hummus and babaganoush with yum pita bread. And the pizza's not bad either. They even have club beer on tap! Oh and they had Salsa night, which basically constituted a very talented dance instructor type fella demonstrating the moves and some not-so-talented trying their best to keep up. One of the guys from our group even joined in for it. All in all, it was a great Friday night out! Didn't take any pictures though. I should have, no?

And yesterday, we'd gone for a walk (or a Wakabo, as they call it in Liberian English) with our trusty friend and colleage N. And instead of the usual walk along Payne Avenue in Sinkor, we found ourselves walking along the beach. And before we knew it, we'd decided to walk all the way up to the Golden Beach cafe (it had actually something to do with the fact that N hadn't joined us at Sajj the night before, and wanted to go out. And well, you know me, I could go out for dinner at the drop of a hat). So, we were just in time for the sunset. Photo dekho:



At the Golden Beach Cafe, Monrovia


Ok, don't grimace. That's the best photo quality I can get on a Blackberry. So, that's the Golden Beach cafe at sunset. Right on the Atlantic Ocean. The waves on this beach are, well, huge. Violent, if I can exaggerate a bit. Oh and the food here is okok. They do a decent Veg. Samosa and the Veg. Pizza wasn't bad either (Green Peas was one of the toppings, by the way). So, we ended Saturday by the beach with samosas and pizza (accompanied by a bit of Savannah). It was fun! Better than sitting at the compound watching Blood Diamond. That too in Hindi. Yes, LOL! Exactly my thoughts right now.

So, all in all, we're working hard and enjoying ourselves on weekends. We told you we'd go out. The cocoon is slowly unravelling, readers! Behold!

PS: I've changed the background picture. Would love to hear your thoughts on it!