Mine Darke and Twisted Life

In the garden

2013-04-29T14:43:00.001+00:00

Models, a set on Flickr.

London Sights

2013-04-14T16:13:00.001+00:00

London Sights, a set on Flickr.

Copper

2012-11-15T07:07:00.003+00:00

Gorgeous art at http://www.boltcity.com/copper/index.html

TrafficView®: Awesomely solving India’s traffic problem.

2012-11-02T07:04:00.000+00:00

Where I ramble on before getting to the point, and then get really tired so I cut it short. And also use excessive commas.

Google Maps have really upped their game in India. They've added traffic information in the Metros, and are planning to bring in street view soon too. With your Android phone, you can tell where your friends (victims) are, and what their ETA of arrival to a location is. Google Navigation has come to India on Android. Maps now have a textured background to indicate topography. You can geotag your photos and people can view them on a map. And most interestingly, Google maps now even has an overlay to show the location of Wikipedia entries on your map, allowing you to see the places of interest close to you. Both the Traffic as the Wikipedia view can be turned on from the overlay panel on the top right.

Traffic and Wikipedia overlay on Google Maps

All in all Google Maps really shows the power that technology wields in this information generation. And also, it’s not Apple Maps. Zing.

Hold on. Let’s not be lulled into a false sense of security. Trusting GMaps has led to some awesome fiascos, like turning off a well lit and broad highway into a narrow pitch black road surrounded by fields, which goes by an innocuous name like St Andrews Path of Redemption on Google Maps, but is probably better known to the locals as Rape Lane. After turning onto such a road on the way back to Norwich from the Peak District thanks to Google, it took about five minutes for our fear to overcome our faith in technology, and we performed a hasty u-turn, leaving the axe murderers frothing in frustration down the road.

On the positive side, Google Maps have allowed us to experience wonders previously unknown to civilized man. Driving in Wales, we decided to toss our paper map and caution to the winds, after which Google decided to show us the meaning of fear by balancing us on the edge of a cliff somewhere in Snowdonia. The view was very nice, though. Or that time we turned off into a dirt track and had to drive for five miles followed by an angry farmer in a tractor before we found a field to turn in. On reflection, I can’t really blame Google for that; it may have been a product of a driver/navigator conflict (to clarify, I was neither).

But as bountiful as the bloopers were while driving around the UK, they cannot really compare to the magnificence of the mistakes we made blindly following our phones, while driving around the Indian subcontinent. On our way to Choki Dhani at Jaipur (more about that later) from Bharatpur recently, we put our trust in dear faithful Google. Highway, highway, highway… oh hold on; that turn looks super awesome and will get us to our destination faster than a unicorn can shit out a rainbow. ‘Dear Google’, says I, ‘you wouldn’t ever steer me wrong; let us take this turn and embark on this magical journey hand in hand.’

This was the last time I smiled for a month.

The road tapered off till we found our self in the center of a village market in a dust patch which followed the outline of my car exactly. Google Maps had by now decided that we were in the centre of a lake, and indicated we swim in a north by north west direction. Times like these bring out the iron in a man’s soul, and I bravely struck out in the aproximate direction Gmaps indicated, followed by feral dogs nipping at my tires and cow’s scratching their arseholes on my side view mirrors.

The aforesaid iron turned out to be not in my soul but in my head, as the road took us deep into one of those Rajasthani villages where automobiles are probably outlawed by the Khap Panchayats, and old men with bright red turbans and skin the colour and consistency of tanned nutsack stared silently at us with eyes which screamed, ’We will burn you and use the ashes to fertilize our corn’. The road grew narrower too, obviously just meant for bicycles and lynch mobs, and sparks flew off the side of my tortured vehicle as I accelerated through the enclosing walls, knowing that to stop would be to seal our death warrant.

At one point I think I drove through someone’s courtyard.

We emerged from the village like Meatloaf’s bat out of hell, leaving a few puffs of feathers to mark where the chickens had exploded as I hit them, and were soon driving through fields of sugarcane: the kind where the axe murderer hides the bodies in all those movies.

Scenic Detours!

The road, which had long since abandoned any pretense of actually leading somewhere, was now just a mud track, and we soon skidded to a halt in front of a pit half full of glutinous clay. ‘WE CAN MAKE IT!’, screamed my intrepid navigator. ‘KEEP ON GOING!’, screamed Google. ‘WE’RE GOING TO DIE HERE’, screamed my bladder! And so, I reversed for ‘bout half a kilometer , past a gawping goatherd, and drove back to the highway, rejoining it a few kilometers after where I had originally turned off, thus ending both my adventure, and the excessive use of commas in this sentence.

I once used quintuple negation separated by commas in an English essay, causing my teacher to go into retirement.

So, besides these very minor inconveniences, Google Maps is great! It’s the wave of the future, and this brings me to the meat of this post, which hyperbole and punctuation have prevented me from reaching till now.

The problem: My daily commute to office involves driving from one city into another (Indirapuram to Sector 62 in Noida) across a national highway. It’s a 3 kilometer drive. It takes me an hour. Why? Because the average office going Delhi person is a crazed rabid wanker with shit for brains and the traffic sense of an autistic orangutan. The daily dose of traffic rage that Delhi brings will take me to an early grave. Though there are 4 routes to cross the highway, one never knows which route will be FUBAR by some asshole trying to go horizontally through a tunnel, or a pack of insane auto rickshaws driving in the wrong direction. The time and location of these traffic snarls cannot be predicted in advance and change hourly.

Route options for my commute

The solution: TrafficView ® - A web camera at each of the 4 route options steaming live video onto a site. Before I set out, I’ll just fire up the feed on my laptop or phone, and make an informed decision on which route will be less likely to make me kill myself. The interface and pricing will be simple… an overlay on Google maps will show you which locations cameras are available at, and you can subscribe to a feed for a fee per camera per month.

TrafficView!

TrafficView® could also be clubbed with the route options of Google and their live traffic information, recommending cameras to subscribe to based on the destination you want. As more and more people subscribe to a particular camera, its icon grows larger on the Map overlay, indicating its heightened usefulness.

I’ve just blown your mind, haven’t I? Google, are you listening?

Where I cater to the common denominator... meaning YOU.

2012-10-31T07:35:00.000+00:00

Hurricane Sandy has taken Gizmodo and most of the Gawker network down. Bereft of my daily post lunch ritual of scrolling through Lifehacker (if ever there was a life that needed hacking it is mine) and Giz, I decided to pay a little attention to my own small neglected corner of the web.

I often imagine what would happen if prospective employers read my blog before the interview. Would it garner a favorable response (you’re on your way to the top of this insane asylum, my son), or would my racism and perversion turn them off? ‘Let’s just try it once and see how you like it’, I’ll plead. 'I’ve got a lot of love to give this organization; I've done it before and people have enjoyed it. let me just squeeze the tip in…'

What were we talking about?

Well, it’s not really a problem, as no one reads my blog anyway. I've therefore decided to make this blog a lot more adult oriented, and eliminate that veneer of social acceptability that I've hitherto tried to incorporate in my posts to cater to a discerning audience. The lack of an audience, discerning or otherwise has made this now redundant. Family, friends and other prudes, please avert your eyes; I shall now sell my soul for the seamy popularity that sex brings to any publication and cater to the prurient interests of the base masses.

…lonely crickets chirp…

Hm, the problem with above bravado is that the intent is clear, but the method is lacking. How DOES one emulate the sexy formula that sells copies of Playboy, X Men comics or every single popular British daily newspaper? ‘It’s Obvious’, you might yell, dear reader. ‘Just increase the boobage ratio of your blog and people will come flocking, just like they do to that guy who built a better mouse trap. Pocket mice or real mice, the principle is the same; the cheese is the boob.’

Well, dear reader, we all know about cheeseboob, but how do I smear it on my blog? I keep trying to cull pictures from the interwebs, but get… distracted… every time. I was then inspired by the Kate Middleton photographs, and slotted in my telephoto lens, attached my tripod, and started peering into the neighbouring apartments from behind my curtains. The problem is, the quality of the average Ghaziabad high rise dwelling lady falls more into the ‘BURN IT WITH FIRE’ rather than the ‘So hot I assploded all over my tripod’ category.

Assploding is going to be a regular theme in this blog now.

So you see, it’s not that easy catering to the common denominator. Just like in real life, where rather than causing girls to fall over in a frenzy and start spontaneously humping the sidewalk, wearing skinny jeans just forces me to walk with my leas at 60 degree angles to each other and end the day in hospital, trying to get sexy up in this blog may just have a counter-intuitive effect.

And also forces me to write long convoluted sentences.

So, I’m just gonna throw my door open to suggestions and volunteers. Especially volunteers. If you’re a girl and want to support this blog, just email me those tittay pics. Or ass. Armpit? Chin? Whatever; just send them to mdtl@outlook.com. Once I’m done with them (and it may take a while so be patient), you’ll get prime position on my sidebar. And the satisfaction of having done a good deed. And the knowledge that I’m gonna have to drink a LOT of Gatorade to replenish my fluids.

Remember, the more pictures you send, the more likely I’ll perish of dehydration. It’ll be a win-win, for at least I’ll die happy.

It's for the birds

2012-10-29T02:21:00.001+00:00

Bharathpur Bird Sanctuary, a set on Flickr.

Iceland Day 5–Puffins and Porpoises

2012-10-06T09:00:00.001+00:00

We woke up to a bright blue sky, the bad weather and haze of the previous day having dissipated completely. We had a leisurely breakfast, and then strolled down to the harbor where I had booked a whale watching cruise. After doing a bit of research, I had chosen Elding, though to be honest, I don’t think there would be much difference between the various providers. Whale watching is such a chancy business, and the various boats are in constant radio touch to help all their passengers get a chance to see a whale.

We were quite early and used the time to explore the levels of the ship and find the best spot to sit. The bright sunlight made Reykjavik gleam, and spangles of light bounced off the deep blue waters of the bay. The ship gradually filled up, and soon our spotter climbed into the crow’s nest (or what passes for a crow’s nest in a modern ship) and we were off.

We renewed our acquaintance with a Chinese girl who we recognized from our Northern Lights tour, and we also saw our first other Indian group since coming to Iceland. (After UK and most of Europe, where we saw Indians everywhere, this was pretty unusual!) They were Telugu, and to my deep shame, not five minutes after our spotter had talked about the danger of plastic waste to marine life, they were happily chucking empty crisp packets and chocolate wrappers off the side of the boat. What is wrong with us?!

The waters of the bay were beautifully calm, but as we got out to open sea there was a strong wind blowing and the waves suddenly picked up. Our position in the bow of the boat suddenly got a lot less comfortable, and we started pulling on our gloves and pulling the zippers of our jackets as far up as they would go.

Hardly 5 minutes had passed when our spotter pointed out White-beaked dolphins frolicking off starboard, throwing everyone into a frenzy of activity, camera’s being clicked frantically with one hand with the other clinging to the guard rail.

After about 15 minutes, the pod tired of toying with us, and descended to more peaceful depths, and we turned our attention to hunting for whales. We searched for around 20 minutes and it seemed we would be going back empty handed, when our spotter got word that the other boat had spotted a whale. We raced over and caught a glimpse of these majestic creatures just as they began their dive.

There were maybe around ten Minke whales in the bay, surfacing in random locations, and what followed was a race around the bay to try and catch up with them. As we crashed into the waves, several of the passengers turned green and retired below the decks. With only the tip of my nose protruding, I hung on to the guard rail with all my strength, but it was worth it to catch sight of these leviathans of the deep.

After an hour or so of chasing after the whales, we turned back, completely satisfied. Our luck had held, and we got to see the whales on our first attempt!

After de-boating, we spent a half hour in the gloomy, and rather uninteresting ‘Life of Whales’ museum, before wandering back into town, but not before grabbing a seafood chowder from a waterfront restaurant.

We spend the next couple of days wandering through the city, and the collection of weird, trendy shops which made up Reykjavik, finally ending up at the Hallgrímskirkja, which was made to look like lava basalt flows. A statue of Leif Eriksson stands in front. As imposing as the structure was from the outside, it was pretty austere and plain inside, except for a huge organ dominating one of the walls; rather disappointing after the lush cathedrals of France and Italy. What was awesome was the viewing area right at the top of the church, where Reykjavik stretched before us in the bright sunshine. I spent 15minutes happily clicking snaps before we headed down.

We also made a quick stop at the local wine store or Vinbuden to pick up a couple of bottles of Brennivin, the most famous local liquer, and a delicate berry liqueur. The Brennivin was a bust; super strong and harsh on the palate, but adding a touch of class to any liquor cabinet.

An hour or so later, as the evening light fled the sky, we made our way back to the Apartment to change for dinner. We planned for a Icelandic meal, and had decided on Laekjarbrekka, a classic restaurant situated in a building constructed in 1834. We got seated quickly, and after scanning the menu, decided to start off with a platter of smoked puffin, fried cod and picked beet. The smoked puffin was actually served in a jar full of smoke, which puffed out very satisfactorily as it was opened. The taste of the puffin, on the other hand was very fishy and oily, so I suspect it was a tourist sort of thing. The cod and the pickled beets were very tasty, though.

For the main, we decided to have the grilled Minke whale, with grilled root vegetables and a Brennevin sauce. To all the people exclaiming in anger: I agree with you completely. A lot of farming of Minke whales in Icelandcaters to the tourist population, and I urge you all to refrain from it. My mom was also horrified, but she doesn’t eat rabbit or venison either, as they’re ‘cute’. Having said this, the whale was delicious! I expected something fishy, but what I got was meaty, almost like beef, with a faint taste of the sea.

After dooming the whales and puffins to extinction with our starter and main, the dessert was pretty mild. We chose the traditional Icelandic Skyr, which was served with white chocolate, a lime sorbet and assorted wild berries, which when it arrived, was as pretty as a picture.

Sated and satisfied, we wandered into the chilly Icelandic twilight for a stroll along the sea, where I toll a last few pictures of the glass encrusted Harpa Concert Hall, before heading back for our last night in Iceland.

As usual the complete flickr set is below -

Iceland Day 4–Light and Magic

2012-08-05T16:14:00.002+00:00

After an arduous though exhilarating time the day before, we had planned a relatively tame outing for our fourth day in Iceland. We had booked a tour of Iceland’s Golden circle with David from Iceland Horizons who came highly recommended on Trip Advisor.

On our way!

David picked us up bright and early in his van, and after a few more stops to pick up the rest of the group, including a party of several elderly, very friendly and excited Americans, we were off! We first drove out of Reykjavik on the very familiar highway 1, but this time instead of passing by the big steam clouds on the left which marked the position of the thermal energy plants, David turned off the highway to takes us for a closer look.

Geothermal Power Plants

Though British, and not a native Icelander, to our initial disappointment, David knew a huge amount about the country and kept us enthralled throughout the trip.

After the power plants, we turned off the highway and drove to a volcanic lake crater Kerið, filled with water of the most violent blue colour, apparently due to the chemicals of the meteor.

Our next stop was a pretty little waterfall, whose name eludes me now. The wind was really picking up by this time, and the horizon had turned a dull red color as the wind whipped the loose volcanic soil into the air.

En Route we had a friendly encounter with a herd of Iceland horses, a breed unique to the place. The wind whipped their manes, but besides chewing on the sleeve of my jacket they were very friendly.

Or next stop was the Haukadalur geothermal area which was another first for me as I had never seen a geyser before. The landscape was alien, with pools of violently blue-green coloured water bubbling between rust coloured tracts of land, with cloud of steam bellowing from the more active geysers. The original, Geysir, was now dormant but another, Strokkur, sent out a huge plume of water and steam every 5 to 10 minutes.

We stood around and watched a few eruptions, and then it was back onto the van for our next stop at Gullfoss, or Golden Falls, Iceland’s largest waterfall. It was massive with tons of water thundering past, but somehow not as beautiful as Skógafoss which we saw the previous day. After some time getting soaked from the spray, I climbed up to see the Hvítá twist its way across the plains before plunging into the falls. We then had a quick lunch consisting of a beautiful lamb stew from the nearby tourist shop.

Our final stop was Þingvellir National Park, the place which has both geological importance, as this is where the North American and Eurasian plates collide, as well as historical importance, as this is where the Icelandic parliament was founded in 930 AD. It may be hard to appreciate the amount of history here, but the geological upheaval is apparent in the chasms and ridges running across the valley.

After a wander around the valley, we got back in the bus and were driven back to Reykjavik while David told us more about Iceland, touching on varied topics such as the political climate in Iceland, the Yule Lads of Icelandic Christmas, and even why people consider fermented shark or Hákarl a delicacy. Little did we know that we would be seeing Þingvellir again before the day was out.

Back in Reykjavik, after dumping our stuff in the apartment, we headed out to explore the town. Reykjavik is super small, super cool and très trendy with fashion boutiques and cool graffiti lining the roads. Being the only obvious foreigners on the streets, we were repeatedly approached by bunches of school kids who were trying to interview foreigners about their experience in Iceland for their school work. We wandered into a few quaint shops and even an Icelandic supermarket, which was quite alien. Protip: Bonus is the main supermarket chain, and can be recognized by its logo of a pig with an extremely sleazy expression on its face.

Just as we were nearly about to walk into a restaurant for dinner, Shweta happened to spy a travel agency with a chalkboard outside on which was scrawled ‘Northern Lights tour starts TODAY’. Well, we had asked around as several places before, but no one had started these tours as it was too early. Well, we couldn’t give up this slim chance of seeing the Aurora Borealis, so while Shweta stayed to buy tickets, I raced to the apartment to pick up our coats and sweaters.

We were just in time, and in about fifteen minutes, we were racing toward, where else, but Þingvellir park, which, as the guide explained, was the nearest spot to view the lights without any artificial light interrupting the experience.

And of course there could be no better setting; as we stood on the cliff overlooking Þingvellir, Þingvallavatn lake stretched into the distance with the moons reflection bouncing off the calm waters. Now, Aurora hunting is not as easy as it sounds; you stare into the sky, imagining phantom bands, all the while shivering as Iceland’s icy winds penetrate your layers of clothing and play with you in a disturbingly intimate way.

After a while, the adrenaline was wearing off, and we were beginning to feel pretty miserable. A lot of people had taken refuge inside the bus, and we were thinking seriously of doing the same. But rather than pack up my tripod and camera, we decided to give it another 10 minutes, and boy were we glad we did!

Almost imperceptibly, a band of pale luminous green stole across the sky, soon brightening to a series of intense blue green snakes which coiled twisted across the heavens. The mood was euphoric, and all of us were pointing and laughing in amazement. Done clicking photos to my heart’s content, I loaned out my tripod to groups of Chinese girls while the bands faded away some 45 minutes later.

The lights were exceptionally active that night, and the bus stopped twice on the way back to Reykjavik as they grew bright in the sky.

Tired and satisfied we fell into bed concluding out penultimate day in this amazing country.

Slideshow with all the photos below.

St Pauls in the night

2012-02-19T23:18:00.001+00:00

St Pauls in the night, a set on Flickr.

Good morning

2011-11-23T09:39:00.001+00:00

Iceland Day 3 - Black sand and blue ice.

2011-11-07T16:35:00.001+00:00

We woke to the sound of dozens of alarms going of on our various mobile phones. Today’s trip was to be the longest, and we would have driven a total of 800 kms before the day finished. Consequently, we were to be picked up an hour earlier than normal, which was why I was pulling on my pants while half asleep.

The brisk chill outside soon woke us up, and before long we were on the coach retracing our journey from yesterday. Today’s trip was to culminate in the amazing glacial lagoon Jökulsárlón and would give us a south coast tour too.

We booked the trip via IcelandExcursions and it cost us 23,655 Icelandic Kroner per person.

We would follow the same path as the day before, but the glacial lip where we stopped the day before was only about halfway to our final destination. Predictably, the first stop was Skogarfoss, which we had visited the day before, but what a difference was there today! The sky was grey, and the waterfall which was bright and sparkling with rainbows yesterday, was broody and menacing today. After a few photos, we whizzed on.

Our guide today was not a native Icelander, but a German girl who had come years ago to Iceland to work as a farm hand, and had fallen in love with the land. She told us more of the story of Iceland, including some of the Sagas. As we listened, we watched the landscape go by. Geologically speaking, most of the features in Iceland are brand new, and the twisted cliffs and jutting crags have not been worn smooth by rain and wind.

Lava fields and green hills

Around 12, we stopped for lunch in a cafeteria in the mille of nowhere and with a view of the glaciers. It looked pretty bleak from outside, but there was a extensive cold buffet with varieties of fish, along with a hot soup of Icelandic lamb.

Jökulsárlón is a glacial lagoon formed by meltwater off the Vatnajökull glacier. The lake is the deepest in Iceland, and is growing bigger as the glacier lip melts. The most interesting this is that the lip of the glacier slowly breaks off into icebergs which then drift down the lagoon till they eventually reach the sea. This results in a lake full of the most amazing and bizzarely shaped blocks of ice. This is the most unearthly beautiful place I have seen.

Iceberg ahoy

Cubism

And to add to this, there were plenty of seals fishing in the lake. We were to take a cruise around the lake to see it better, and after wandering around the shore, our boat trundled around a nearby hill and stopped near us. I say trundled, as it had four wheels! It was actually an amphibious craft, and once we boarded it, it slowly dove down to the shore and into the lake and we were off.

A Seal

The amphibious craft

The Glacial lip in the background

The icebergs were even more beautiful close up, and were a variety of colours, from briliant white to black. The most beautiful ones glowed with a serene blue light. Our guide, this très cute Icelandic girl, proceeded to fish out this chunk of ice from the lake and gave us a quick talk on the icebergs, after which she broke it up into chunks for us to taste. The ice is pristine 1000 year old, and supposed to be really good in whisky as it is so compressed it melts very slowly. Whisky unfortunately, was not served.

Our guide cradling some ice

Check out the video of her talking about the lagoon.

As a treat, have a look at this BBC video likening Jökulsárlón to Saturn's rings.

On the way back, we stopped at the village of Vik to take a stoll along the famous black beach. It was very windy and the waves crashed into the shore making it a desolate yet beautiful scene.

A close up of the beach

The black beach at Vik

And after a short stop at another waterfall, we were on our way back listening to our guide tell us about Icelandic trolls and elvelore. We finally staggered into bed around 11pm.

As usual, click on the album below to view it full screen (v reccomended).

Iceland Day 2 - Glaciers and Waterfalls

2011-10-17T12:49:00.000+00:00

The next day we were up at the crack of dawn (well 6 am anyway) to light streaming in through our windows. The days were still very long, even though it was September! We were to go for a glacier trek today and Sólheimajökull beckoned. We had booked the tour, Take a Walk on the Ice Side, with Icelandic Mountain Guides and it cost approx. 20900 ISK per person.

The tour bus was due to pick us up at around 8:30, and we were hanging out outside our apartment, when we met this German girl who was on the same tour as us. She complained quite vociferously about all the noise of the previous night (the partying went on till 3 am), and though we smiled sympathetically, we were were quite happy about how lively Reykjavik was. The tour bus picked us up and took us to the main bus stand where we transferred to the larger coach which was to take us to the glacier.

This part of the tour was conducted by Reykjavik Excursions, and it overlapped with their South Coast tour till we reached the lip of the Sólheimajökull glacier, where we would separate from the main group and go on the glacier trek, while they would continue onwards to the black beaches of Vik, and pick us up on their way back.

The lip of the Sólheimajökull

The tour guide (who's name I forget) was a native Icelander, who was passionate about his country and had a wealth of knowledge and lore at his fingertips. Unfortunately, he was not a natural storyteller, but for people who made the effort to listen, he was captivating. As we drove through Reykjavik, we learned how three fourths of the country's meager 300,000 odd people lived here, and how it was one of the cleanest greenest cities in the world. We also learnt about how Iceland was settled, and how Irish monks were coming there way before the Vikings. Iceland seems to have a lot of Ireland in it, with the Vikings often bringing back Irish women as concubines and slaves. the people of Iceland are thus as Irish as they are Viking, though they tend to pay down their Irish ancestry. As one person put it, the Icelanders are Viking when they're sober and Irish when they're drunk.

Just outside Reykjavik, we were driving thorough the fields of boulders covered by moss so characteristic to Iceland. There were lava fields which were fresh enough that no plants were able to settle but the moss. In the middle of this, a few miles outside Reykjavik, we saw a number of places billowing steam which marked the Hellisheiði geothermal power station, which utilised these natural hot steam vents to both generate power as well as supply Reykjavik with cheap hot water. I can attest to the fact that I was bathing in genuine geothermically heated hot water, as there is a distinct smell of sulphur as you turn on the shower.

We passed the small town of Selfoss and stopped about mid day for a quick bite and use of the facilities at a roadside cafe. After enjoying an Icelandic hot dog and some Skyr ( an Icelandic dessert of thickened yoghurt) we were soon off. Geologically speaking, Iceland is a fascinating place, and we could see a variety of landscapes, ranging for huge fields of black volcanic dust, mountains and cliffs twisted into a variety of bizarre shapes to lush green meadows.

Skyr with blueberries

However, behind this amazing landscape is the constant threat of geological catastrophe; earthquakes, volcanoes, and volcano induced flash-floods. As we drove through the various newly restored portions of the road, this was brought home to us.

Finally, we turned off the road onto a dirt path, which took us to about a kilometre from the lip of the glacier. We got off the bus leaving behind the people who would continue on a south coast tour.

Here we met our guides from Icelandic Mountain Guides, who started providing us with ice picks and crampons to fit on our hiking boots. As usual, it took Trigby (our guide) about 15 minutes to find crampons to fit my size 12 boots (and I thought these Vikings had big feet).

The Crampons

The crampons were nasty pieces of work, and we had to be careful we didn't trip over our own feet and impale ourselves. All kitted up, we walked the remaining portion of the moraine till we reached a small stream. A quick skip over it, and we were on the ice!

Ice Picks

Navigating on ice was not as tricky as I thought (it helped that the incline was gradual), but definitely needed some care as the ice was extremely slick. We were grateful for our crampons, driving them into the ice at each step.

As we went higher, the terrain became more difficult, and Trigby had to cut out rough steps for us in the ice. Climbing a narrow channel with deep crevasses on either side took some nerve, but worse was to come on our way back.

After visiting some spectacular ice caves we started our descent. Trigby took us on a circular route, so we were going down a new path. Walking down was more difficult than going up, but we were up to the challenge. Or at least we were until we came to the edge of a cliff. Well, I promptly turned around to walk back the way we came, but looked back to see Trigby climbing down this narrow ridge with deep crevasses on either side. It was around this point that our group collectively shat it's pants.

A beautiful ice cave

My camera, which till this point was slinging nonchalantly around my neck, was stowed in my backpack, leaving both hands free to, as I imagined, wave goodbye as i fell into the bowels of the earth. This was a shame, as the scenery at this point was stupendous. Of course, I would have preferred said scenery on a wallpaper on my laptop, as I couldn't appreciate it and control my bladder at the same time.

Well, I inched my way down this 70 degree slope, slipped the last few feet, and jammed my crampon into my foot ripping the leg of my pants. I think I got off lightly.

After giving my small toe a kings burial, we continued down where our bus was waiting to take us home.

On the way back, we stopped a two beautiful waterfalls. Skógafoss, a huge waterfall with an amazingly pretty double rainbow around it, and Seljalandsfoss a smaller waterfall, but one where you could actually walk behind the falls.

Skógafoss

In the mist

Seljalandsfoss

Behind the waterfall

On the way back, we stopped at a farm that had been devastated by the Eyjafjallajökull volcano, and our guide explained how he was part of the huge effort to rescue the farm and clear it of vocanic ash. It was hard to believe how different it looked now.

Eyjafjallajökull in the background of the farm.

A picture of the eruption

And then it was back to our apartment, for a well deserved snooze.

More pictures below. Click to take you to a bigger version -

Longleat Safari

2011-10-05T23:14:00.001+00:00

Longleat Safari, a set on Flickr.

Wild pictures

Iceland Day 1 - Smoky Bays

2011-09-25T11:55:00.003+00:00

When Ingólfur Arnarson chose Reykjavik as his permanent settlement in 870 AD, he was confronted by puffs of smoke dotting the land, which is why he called it Smoke Cove, or Reykjavik. These puffs were of course steam, and were indicative of the huge geologic engine running under Iceland, which both threatens Icelanders, as well as provides them with an abundance of clean green energy.

I can't imagine the Vikings were much more excited than I to see this new land though. As the bus passed the outskirts of Reykjavik, I had to readjust my mental picture of this small cute village to a much bigger gleaming metropolis. We changed at the BSI Bus Terminal to the local shuttle that was to take us to our hotel, and my impression of Reykjavik changed again.The city may be big, but it's central area (the one we tourists are concerned with) is cozy and compact. It's not a rural haven, but more like a ultra trendy mini city, with shops sporting designer labels, chic cafés, and trendy restaurants.

The main street, Laugavegur, is just one lane and teeming with pedestrians, and this was where our cab rolled down to drop us at our apartment in the ultra trendy Reykjavik 101 area.

Now a quick note about our accomodation. We had booked the 'Botique' studio serviced apartment in Apartment K. We were a bit nervous about this, as when we emailed the hotel, they said that the exact apartment may not be in the address we were told, and would be allocated only on our arrival. But our fears were soon put to rest - we were met at the street by Kathy, who was extremely helpful and made us feel right at home.

We were let in to the apartment which was just across the road, and when they said botique, boy did they mean it. It was done up in red and white, with one side of the apartment covered in windows. As you can see from the pictures it was extremely comfortable.

Kathy sat down with us and talked us through the main attractions in Reykjavik, especially pointing out the cool places to eat. She also gave us a crash course on Icelandic pronounciation - the J's were pronounced Y, the ð like th and the ll were pronounced a sorta guttral th.... to demonstrate which she proceeded to spit generously on the table.

After a while we decided to wander around the city, and also pick up a few groceries for the apartment, and also find the local liquor shop. Just for info, the local grocery shop is call Bonus, but there is also a shop called 1011 which stays open late. Alcohol can only be bought at Vinburen (a government owned liquir shop). As we were wandering around we got to see The Sun Voyager (Sólfar), by Jón Gunnar Árnason.

After grabbing some food, I went out at around 12 am to see the legendary Reykjavik nightlife, and it was just amazing to see this small street transformed. I also walked to the Hallgrímskirkja church to get a few pics of it lighted up.

View Iceland 2011 in a larger map

Visiting Ultima Thule

2011-09-20T19:55:00.004+00:00

In the past, in my mind, Iceland was this tiny island, covered with ice and snow and unremarkable in every way. A place where a few unfortunate people would have to live, but no sane person would visit. However, a couple of years back, Tanmay showed me some pictures of Iceland taken by a friend of his who had visited, and I was entranced. The place looked unearthly and unspoiled and raw; an exhibition of geology and nature unlike any other.

From that moment I was hooked.

I didn't think it would come to anything. . . we did our usual touristy trips to Amsterdam, Paris, Spain; the list goes on. But Iceland was always there hovering at the back of my mind.

Well, a few days back we finally touched down in Keflavik airport. It's about a three and a half flight from Gatwick, so it's not too far. Iceland is a bit to the west, so it's an hour behind us. The first surprise I got was to see a big Iron Maiden logo on our plane. We were actually on the plane used for the Iron Maiden 2011 tour!

It was a fine bright day and the Atlantic shone a brilliant blue. Soon we were flying over Iceland towards Keflavik, and the first thing that struck me was how barren and deserted it all was. There were just a few scattered buildings surrounded with masses of boulders. I was soon to learn a lot of Iceland was covered with these kind of boulders and it was typical to certain types of cooling lava.

A few minutes later, we even got a glimpse of the blue lagoon, enveloped by clouds of steam.

And soon, we touched down in Keflavik International Airport. Immigration was a breeze; they looked at my visa for all of two seconds before stamping it. The airport is pretty small, and in a few minutes we were out.

I'm gonna try and keep these series of posts pretty crisp, just including information to help you get an idea of the place, in case you want to go there yourself.

So, Keflavik Airport is about 50 kilometers from Reykjavik. You could get a Taxi, but you can also buy tickets for Flybus (http://www.re.is/Flybus//) which will take you to the BSI terminal or Flybus Plus, which will shuttle you from the BSI Bus Terminal to a list of locations around the city (or even the more popular hotels). It makes sense to buy a return ticket (4500 IKR) if you plan to go back the same way.

The bus journey to Reykjavik basically consisted of an hour long drive through lots of old lava fields. The landscape were dotted with these weird sculptures - boulders balanced on each other to look like men, women or children. I never found out about their significance.

Soon we were driving along the coast, and in the distance was the collection of buildings that was Reykjavik.

Our Weirdly Wonderful Wedding

2010-11-15T14:26:00.001+00:00

Visit http://www.owww-vns.com/ and sign our guestbook!!

Life

2010-10-06T21:45:00.000+00:00

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,
A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,
A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,
And never a laugh but the moans come double;
And that is life!

A crust and a corner that love makes precious,
With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us;
And joy seems sweeter when cares come after,
And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter;
And that is life!

Paul Laurence Dunbar

My Life is a Comic- Part Deux

2010-10-03T05:04:00.001+00:00

Well, you probably haven’t read my earlier post - My life is a Comic - pt 1. Go check it out, as this is the long delayed continuation.

Having seen The Dark Knight (twice!) in the theatres, I have to say, the movie is great and all, but how will people who don't know about Batman; who don't appreciate the subtle play between the Batman and Joker and Gordon and Dent really *get* it? To be quite honest, a lot of the people around me wouldn't know their Poison Ivy from Harley Quinn. In fact, I've oft heard the opinion, from some of my sadder friends, that reading comics is for kids. The people are invariable those who only read books like 'Who Moved My Cheese', and get to hear of stuff like Sin City or Hellboy when a movie is made of it. Quick Tip- If you’re reading self help books, you’re doing it wrong.

When I was in the sixth grade I moved to a new school, St Pauls in Kota, Rajasthan. I stayed there till seventh, before moving to a new school. St Pauls was, in many ways, one of my worst schools. I never performed really badly, but I was a lackadaisical student; daydreaming in a class which seemed, to me at least, to be full of the most detestable collection of little sneaks that I'd ever seen. I can still remember those little rotters - 'Sir! Viren's sleeping in class!' or "Ma'am, Viren's trying to look down your blouse again!". I hope they burn in hell! The teacher's too were quite god-awful, except for our maths teacher who taught us geometry by taking us out to the school field and making us measure and calculate the volume, diameter and radii of various objects like tree trunks, car tyres and so on. And of course, Miss Sehgal, who taught us physics, and on whom I had an aching crush. Of course, by the time I started paying attention in class, answering questions, and finally catching her attention, it was time to move on to a new place and a new school.

So, not surprisingly, surrounded by people whom I would rather not associate with, I became a bit of a loner. Instead of spending my lunch breaks scuffling in the dirt with the rest of the plebes, I used to retire with my tiffin to the library. And what a library it was. To me it was a regular treasure trove of books and comics which I used to devour with lunch. It was here I encountered many a hitherto unknown comic, such as Strawberry Shortcake(okay, okay! I enjoyed it at the time). Try as I might, I cannot remember the names of the other comics I read, but I do recall some were mighty weird. And cool! Okay, having typed that I decided to google around, and found two more comics I loved at the time. The first was Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham. Heh, No it’s totally not a joke.

And then there was Planet Terry, this supercool scifi comic. I totally need to search these out!

This library was where I discovered Edgar Rice Burroughs, and spent many a lunch deep in the jungles of Africa. The librarian was a nice man, and quite handy with arts and crafts. I was especially inspired by his money plant holder made out of a bulb, and resolved to make one for my mum on her birthday. I was quite pleased with the result, but my mother not so much when she discovered I had broken about thirty-six working bulbs before I found one that was suitable.

Moving on, Nainital was when I grew interested in comic strips. I collected the daily Garfield and Hagar from the paper. I continued with my Archies, and the occasional superhero comics. Batman was always my favourite, but Superman and the JLA would do in a pinch.

Coimbatore was where I found a reasonably steady source of comics in the form of a modestly small but well stocked (and probably illegal) lending library called Choose and Read. I managed to get hold of the Batman Knightfall and Knightquest series; however the issues I got were later on in the series after Bane had broken Batman's back. I was quite shocked by all the changes; Batman retired.. Robin murdered.. Batgirl shot and paralysed! And the redesign of the Bat’s costume (see left)! In fact all the DC comics I picked up we strangely confused. Superman was killed, Lex Luthor was batting for the good side now and Batman had a son with Talia Al Ghul? A lot (but not all) of this confusion was due to stories set in alternate earths. and then DC had this major reboot with a series called Crisis on Multiple Earths, which I have not understood till now.

Marvel was a bit better with Spiderman as entertaining as ever, but more and more I began eschewing the fantastic four and Captain America for new comics abut these gang of mutants known as the Xmen. The XMen were a great hit and thousands of mutants (or metahumans as DC called them) started popping up all over comics. They’ve become a bit overused now, and it seems that Marvel’s writer just invent characters on whim. How about Maggot, Jazz or Zeitgeist? And often, I feel Marvel introduced female characters just coz they wanted to see how skimpy a outfit they could fit their heroines into before their comics started getting shrink wrapped and placed in the ‘adult’ shelves. Take a look at this, if you don’t believe me.

Like a review by R. Fiore goes -

Being physically invulnerable and endowed with gnarly powers, their clothing need have no practical value aside from the practice of exhibitionism. They are attired in one of three ways: Scantily clad, partially nude, and almost completely nude. If they were going to church, they would wear tight trousers and leather jackets. The simpleminded viewer might conclude they are dressing simply to please men. This would be wrong-headed. Their dedication to self-exposure is as pure, selfless and inner-directed as the vocation of the most devout monk.

Okay, so I totally get where they are coming from. That’s why I put all those pics above. Hey, I DO want more people in here!

Anyways, next time anyone asks you Marvel or DC, you know the right answer. It’s DC all the way baby.

Okay, so this post has stretched a bit longer than expected. I will be back with more…

A Wedding Card from the heart.

2010-09-30T07:01:00.001+00:00

And she thought her in-laws didn't love her.

Bom Sabado!

2010-09-25T11:00:00.003+00:00

WTF is Bom Sabado?

This may help.

Car Pool

2010-09-19T08:57:00.001+00:00

Oh, I just crack myself up.

Earthquake!

2010-09-17T19:35:00.002+00:00

Okay, it's like 1 am, 18th Sep 2010, Delhi India. Lying in my bed pleasantly buzzed, watching Harold and Kumar when I feel this rocking. So either I'm more buzzed than I thought or there was just an earthquake. Nothing on the news as yet... lets see.

Mind you, I'm not discounting that the few whiskey sours I had we more potent than expected!

Update - Seems there WAS an EQ... the blogosphere and twitter bear me out. Newschannels still to pick it up. Apparently the glenfidditch wasn't as strong as I thought!

The Path

2010-09-15T12:25:00.000+00:00

This is based on a true story.

Sweat poured down my brow, and into my eyes blinding me. I was in a trench, my breath inside my faceplate loud in my ears. It was a bright and sunny day, but the light struggled through the thick foliage, and all that reached us was a dim ambient glow with only a few rays breaking through and dappling the ground.

The undergrowth was wet and a light mist snaked around my ankles. Twisted roots churned in the mud, like pythons frozen in the act of copulating. The stillness of the forest was disorienting; it was hard to believe there were others like me silently creeping through it.

"Clear the path!” they told me. Even if it cost me my life, I had to clear the path!

Drawing a deep breath, I risked a quick peek out of the trench, but quickly ducked back down as a volley of shots sprayed mud a few inches from my face. This was ridiculous; I had to move forward - they were depending on me.

But we were pinned down by enemy fire. They were swarming everywhere and four snipers had entrenched themselves in front of us. I looked at my mates on my right in the underbrush. A nod, and we were in agreement; we started inching our self forward, wriggling through the mud and the foliage.

It was nerve-wracking business. And the guy on the right couldn't take it. He broke. With a sudden yell, he bolted from his shelter, and within a few steps, was gunned down, his body jerking as several bullets tore into him. But his sacrifice was not in vain. We had placed the enemy positions, and in a sudden surge we cleared all five of them out.

Elated, I bounded forward; when like a deadly jack in the box an enemy trooper shot out from around a curve in the trench, and fired a spray of bullets at me. I flattened myself against the wall of the trench and watched as shots whizzed past. I fired a few shots around the corner to distract the trooper up ahead, and then scrambled a few feet back to safety.

My visor was misted up and I could smell my own fear. So this was what war was like. I felt utterly drained, as though I had been running for miles. Only adrenaline was keeping me going now. I looked at my mate sniping from the bushes to my right. He shrugged helplessly; the enemy was too well hidden in the trench and he couldn't draw a bead on him.

I crawled forward a few paces only to fall flat as a volley of shots whizzed around my head. I had to clear the path; we were running out of time. I knew what I had to do.

My breath was echoing in my ears and the cold stone of fear was heavy in my stomach. I crouched silent for a second and then I was off; running down the trench firing a hail of bullets. He waited till I was almost on top of him. I rounded the corner and almost thought the trench was empty, when he stood up and shot me down point blank. But, as I fell backward into the mud, I saw the cruel smile on his face change to shock as red bloomed on the front of his jacket. He had given away his position to the sniper on the right.

I had done it; the path was clear.

Epilogue - We lay for a minute in the mud, till we heard the whistle. I grabbed the enemy trooper by the hand and hoisted him up. The paintball game was over. My team had captured the flag.

Baby got Back

2010-09-12T18:12:00.002+00:00

I know, right? WTH was he doing for a year? Sleeping? A coma? Perhaps he decided to unplug himself from the interwebs.

Well, conjecture no more. It's time to share a deep darke secret about myself; a secret which will explaim the tragic story of my year long hiatus; a sordid secret which will shake the foundations of your reality. No, it's not that I dress as a obsessive compulsive superhero every full moon and solve crimes involving geriatric penguins. It's just this - I'm Lazy. Note the capital L.

This is not simple lethargy folks. I have elevated ennui to an art form. Much like the Mona Lisa, my lazyness looks out at the world with an enigmatic smile.

And now that's cleard up, lets move on. I have resolved to start posting again, though, of course, my words are not worth the the htm that renders them. I got a few queries about when I'm going to start posting again. . . got a few ideas percolating. Lets see how long I can keep it up.

I've been getting quite a few views on some posts; unfortunately these are on those post which are most derivative (containing plaigarised content, in other words). Depression Dog's V day and Baww seem to be up there. Also, MDTL seems to have been discovered by spammers. If I were to take them up on their offers, I'd be sitting in a casino, wearing jewellery, sporting a massive errection with my herpes all cleared up.

By far the most hilarious of these are, and I quote,

HELP! I’m currently being held prisoner by the Russian mafia xyzrxyz [url=http://www.buypenisenlargement.com]penis enlargement[/url] xyzrxyz and being forced to post spam comments on blogs and forum! If you don’t approve this they will kill me. xyzrxyz [url=http://www.male-sexual-styles.com]penis enlargement[/url] xyzrxyz They’re coming back now. xyzrxyz [url=http://pills.buypenisenlargement.com]vimax[/url] xyzrxyz Please send help! nitip [url=http://www.male-sexual.com/vimax-pills.html]vimax[/url]

I can just imagine the poor bloke, battered, bruised and chained to the table, forced to spam a neverending procession of no-account blogs. That just moves me to tears that does.

I've also been making a few tweaks to the layout and colours of the page; hope you like them. Colours tend to look much more vivid on my glossy RGBLED than others, so I apologise in advance if everything looks washed out on your screens.

Wow! So that's like two posts in as many days. Maybe I AM turning over a new leaf. Eh. . . or maybe not. See you in a year folks!

Rage against the Page

2010-09-12T03:46:00.000+00:00

So, they've finally decided facebook users are narcissistic and attention hos (link). Big surprise. Lately facebook seems like it's like one of those reality shows that is so horrid and rage inducing that it's actually addictive. So nowadays I scroll through my feed cringing a bit waiting for the next rage inducing post.

I now know how I'm gonna go - face down in front of the laptop with a massive brain haemorrhage; a facebook feed exploring the hitherto unplumbed depths of human idiocy opened up.

Let us explore this theme. One genius says "lts g n c hw muc ppl luaaaaaaaved her.... ws at th 2320 sho..... she s sooooo fukkhhin ht...she lft t the car l8er". It's as though, via some weird alchemy, vowels have been transplanted by a Dr. Frankenstein with some sort of motor neuron disease. How busy can you be to type ’t’ instead of 'to', dude?

And then of course we have the mandatory farmville updates - Thorne has planted a ear of corn; Karthik has lent a ladder out; Julia has screwed the neighbour's pig...

And lady, it's nice to see a few pictures of your kid, but I don't need to see every stage of their development. I don't care if they're cute, all babies look like Walter Matthau anyway. Besides, do you think you may be invading their privacy a little bit? The net, and especially Facebook ain't exactly safe, y'know. There ARE sites like flickr or picasa where you can direct those pictures to relevant people.

And then of course there are the lurkers. People who stalk their old friends to they can compare lives - 'Oh his job probably sucks', 'She’s looking good but she's probably just a slut. Look at how short that skirt is.'. Do you have to judge the standards of your life in comparision with others?

And of course, there are the bitter old men who spew anger, about facebook, but still check it every day. What? No! I don't mean ME!

Of course, these are just the bumblers and Clouseau's of the online world. There are more insidious fiends - the attention hos who update their status every few hours, copied from somewhere likely as not. They are usually followed by a gaggle of acolytes with such pithy and deep affirmations - OMG tht's sooo trueee. . . you rock babe. . . I agree with everything you write, on the off chance you'll let me in your pants. (Okay, so the last person does have a genuine reason. . . I mean getting into someone's pants is definitely worth acting the retard).

And you, my long lost classmate from school who's just gushing about how nice it is to catch up; Newsflash! You weren't my friend in school; you were a wanker then and, in all probablity, are a prime wanker now. Let’s just agree to not know each other... ever.

But this is just the beginning. The truly apocalyptic thing about Facebook is that it has provided a convenient place for all these retards to communicate. What will happen when they actually meet and, god forbid, mate? What then, Mr. Zuckerberg? Answer me that.

We'll have a generation of kids going 'Lol, jstin Beeberz is so freeking the coolrz. omg w b2hatt'. And that’s when a vengeful god will finally lose it and sweep us off the face of the planet.

But hey, at least I'll get to say I told you so.

So people, let take the time to fill in those vowels; no matter how much the temptation, let us resist the urge to type 'z' in place of 's'. No, it's not 'zexy'. And finally all you cotton-brained freaks out there, let’s not seek affirmation by your vacuous updates every few hours. No, you will NOT feel better even if a bunch of your bubble head friends think that your status is the height of wit. If you really want to feel good about yourself I'd strongly advise you to have a romp in the hay with some, or even all of them.

And now my vitriolic diatribe is done, if you'll excuse me I'll pop off and try to get into someone's pants - this should work ' OMG, your post is the funnest EVAR'.

Disclaimer: Okay, the intent of this post is humor rather than vitriol. No one really conforms to these stereotypes (I hope).