Wild Onions, Skunks, Ear-piercing

A quote from a rough draft of a novel/ series of novels:

"Places have no inherent power in them. And yet places contain worlds entire, and make up the world around us. Foolish is the worshipper that worships a place or an object, and submits himself to a pointless pilgrimage. But surpassing him in foolishness is the unbeliever to whom all places are alike, for then he never moves.

Places are... media. But not mere media. Think of them as to you what a lens is to a brilliant ray of light. Refracting and reflecting your very essence. In some ways they are the media for Time. You'd think Places change, and indicate Time; but actually Time changes, and manifests changes in Places. Either way, each new place is an avenue into a new time. Your time. Your fate.

Places abound in this world and all worlds abound in places; places eternal and places ephemeral... and all that will matter in the end is how you are changed in the time you spent in those places. All that will matter is how you let the lens of the world refract you and send you yet another fateful path... and that path will lead onward. To yet another path... Another time, Another place... "

Well, I visited Chicago this weekend, and I guess it is high time I blogged about it! I actually wrote two versions of this blog... and am publishing both. The first was a wacky, funny one I wrote when exhausted, and therefore prone to pedestrian language and profanity. So read that down below. The second was when I was back to my abstract, idiotically serious self, and consists in fact of what you just read, plus the photo album.

So click it here to see a slideshow of vignettes from Chicago. Then read on, but let go of any seriousness. You've been warned. Beyond this point, no more Mr. Abstract Nice Guy. Just a horrendously long rant.

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Wild Onions, Skunks, and Ear-piercing

Bet that caught your attention... a blog about... what?

Quoting Wikipedia: "During the mid 1700s, the Chicago area was inhabited primarily by Potawatomis... The name Chicago originates from "Checagou" (Chick-Ah-Goo-Ah) or "Checaguar" which in the Potawatomi language means 'wild onions' or 'skunk'. The area was so named because of the smell of rotting marshland wild leeks (ramps) that used to cover it..."

So here follows a travelogue - more impressions, random thoughts, rants and the miscellaneous crap that makes up this blog...

First of all, the flight out was fun, as usual... only this time I kept my camera firmly in the bag. No skyscapes this time! I just can't get it out of my head - being in a tin canister at 15,000 feet and travelling at abour 500 miles an hour and most importantly, not dying doing that! The wonder of flight will never die for me (or so I thought). I hadn't counted on the house of horrors that was Northwest Airlines.

Getting into Chicago, there was the usual anti-climax that comes with flight delays takes a little something away from the fun of finally landing! I mean, seriously, you feel no joy at seeing a friend after a long time when your butt is moulded into the shape of the seat you were sitting on, and is seemingly crawling with ants! So anyway... I met Aditi and we Walked (note the caps - this was an omen of things to come) to an El train, ate some pizza, and then went to where I was to stay.

Which was a Youth Hostel that charged a cheap $20 a night and was quite an experience in itself! Very symbolically, my five bed dorm housed me, a Taiwanese student, a Mexican guy, and a regular Caucasian male (who when he went to bed, did so in his skivvies and made me realize just how uncomfortable and Indian I am about that!). The Mexican probably knew only two words of English, which he benevolently shared with me ("Excuse Me"). The Taiwanese spent all his time in the dorm just waiting for it to be quiet enough to sneak into his girlfriend's room (next door, the single occupancy girl's dorm).

But I digress. you'll see some cool shots of the hostel in the inevitable photo album I'm uploading... and it was very "funky". A decor that consisted of a piano, lots of couches, Che Guevara memorabilia... Matrix and Catwoman posters... but that was the lobby. The (intentionally) unphotographed dorm and the loo... well, lets just say a hostel is a hostel, whether in Chicago or in Government College of Engineering, Aurangabad!

Except that it isn't... and the towel rods in the bathroom were across the room from the showers... and people were walking nonchalantly over to the towels from the showers to dry themselves. Ah, such was my concern for my poor Indian ass (or the display thereof), that taking a bath in this totally American bathroom was quite a circus, involving deft placement and manouvering of towels and other sundry toiletries. Ahem. Anyway...

The next day saw me walking. And walking. And then stopping some, and then walking. Ok, you get the picture. Let's just say I am not visiting Chicago again until Aditi gets a bloody car! (famous last words)... The thing with walking is, it doesn't kill you on the day, but on the day after when you are finally in office. Post hoc, ergo proctor hoc, your legs scream like the poor little kid who just underwent a ear piercing (which for the record I am fundamentally against)... I digress again. Sigh! And I bet you were expecting descriptions of glorious buildings and wonderful sights next. But hold on.

First, there was shopping. I swear to God (or whatever pseudo-metaphysical construct is responsible for this Mess) that I now officially hate shopping for clothes, and have empirical evidence to prove it. Just check out the agonizing t-shirt I was made to buy (with my money) and made to wear (an act of extortion) and was photographed in (with my camera!). You'll know which one... That t-shirt is something an Ajit henchman in a 70s flick would wear when awaiting a consignment of gold on a beach in Daman with a crooked copthat twirls his grimy moustaches . (Happy b'day, robbat)...

Then there was a post-satyanarayan pooja dinner (with excellent pav bhaji and bad shira, to be politically correct), that saw the execution of a rather elaborate, typically desi set-up act, replete with "leave alone in room" moments that continued late into the night when a whole bunch of us went bowling. That I wasn't the object of the setup was a huge mercy (had you going there for a minute though, didn't I?) And Day One was over.

The least likely combination of events that ever made a day in one of my vacations! I mean honestly, the two things I wouldn't normally be caught doing - Shopping, and Socializing. Which is not to say it wasn't fun. Anyway... I bet it was more fun than getting my ears pierced...

Day Two started with a bang. The buildings. The Magnificent Mile. Millennium Park. The Bean. The Marina. Lunch on a stretch of lawn by a bike path. And then the Cruise. (All this preceded, interspersed, and followed by walking). But then it is best to let the pictures speak for that here. Anyway... at the end of Day Two and after a nice dinner, started what I shall label "The Ordeal".

Short summary: My airline ditched me. Called my residence number in Buffalo at 2 am to tell me (How in the @!#&^%$@$# world can you call and tell me in Buffalo that my flight from Chicago is cancelled?!) that my flight from Chicago was cancelled. Proceeded to book me on a flight that would get in Buffalo by 5 pm and thereby would hypothetically cost me my job. So there was I, poor paranoid creature who's headed to the airport at 1 am anyway, and then I was stranded on an Orange Line train station. The El train, normally a very nice feature of Chicago had it in for me too. So I find there's no train to Midway on Monday night between 12:11 and 4:30.

I take a cab to the airport only to find the place deserted. Slept on a bunch of chairs a-la Indian Rail Platform. Woke up, hollered at airlines. Finally got a flight (with another airline). Underwent extra-special detailed DHS security check; questions like "Have you or do you ever plan to protest any governmental policies in ways that can be construed as being unconstitutional?" or some such. Huh? Yeah, smart guy, like I'm going to answer that in the positive and get my ass deported! Finally I flew into Buffalo bleary-eyed at noon. Worked till 6. Slept after well past midnight, and only for about 5 hours. And then after a full workday, wrote this stuff.

Oh, did I say short summary? What of it? Do you really want to pick a bone with me right now? I'll gnash your radius and ulna with my poor rotting teeth!

So anyway... What did I learn on this visit? A recap:

1. "Chicago" means Wild Onions and Skunks.
2. I hate Shopping for clothes, Walking, Northwestern Airlines, Walking for over five miles in a day, Semi-Nudist Hostels, and Walking too much.
3. Sleep deprivation makes you write seriously acerbic, rambling, and bad blogs in order to stay awake.

Quite a learning experience, really!