Max & Me: Act III - The Marley Puppy!

Come spring it was time to explore the world with our brand new puppy. We had taught him his name  Max, his wobbly feet were now more stable and he was learning basic obedience commands like ‘Heel’ , ‘Walk’,  ‘Easy’ ,’Keep walking Max’  and ‘Halt’.

One of our first trips with him, was to watch the cherry blossoms in Washington D.C. We went around the tidal basin and Max got to explore his first gig at real social networking. A tug here, a jump there, a lick here, a wag there, the world was a brilliant place with something called humans in it. He had the heart big enough  to love them all immeasurably. It was one huge rushed overdose of love from him towards one and all and most in turn showed him their abundant adoration. For one little Labrador puppy, it was one big happy place to be in.

As we went round the tidal basin, kids and adults alike, said just one thing, ‘Oh, the Marley puppy’, ‘ Look,  the Marley puppy’ , ‘There’s the Marley puppy’ , ‘Mom, the Marley puppy’, ‘Dad,  the Marley puppy’.

At that time, I hadn’t read or watched Marley and Me, both of which I later did. All I knew was that one and all were admiring my fur ball. I let myself fall a little behind Max and daddy and lost myself in the resounding bliss, of Marley puppy compliments, that came from everyone,  after he crossed them. I had my very own Marley puppy and the rest of the journey was no less exciting as Marley’s own, just that Max is ‘The World’s Best Dog’.

Max & Me - Act II: Be My Valentine!

Fast forward a month and we were back home actively looking for a puppy to fill the home and hearth with fuzziness. It was time to realize the long unfulfilled wish  for that big friendly Labrador retriever.

The initial search took us to a website with several adorable Labrador pups, with exotic names like Rani and Rajah. We were hooked. But on google searching a little about the breeders, I found that they were Amish puppy mill owners, convicted for animal cruelty in the past. So that lead was abandoned.

Next was the American Kennel Club route. We picked an AKC certified breeder who bred pedigreed Champion pups. Champion breeds are ones who were sired by a dog who had won championships. He told us that a litter of ten pups had just been born, but all of them were already booked by other people. We would have to wait for the next litter in May, which was acceptable to us. A few days later, we received a call from him - one of the pups got canceled. Bingo! He was ours!!

It was on Valentine’s Day of 2009, that the purest love I have ever experienced, walked into my life, with little wobbly steps. His real doggy mom Mae, groomed my hand while I held him, with pleading eyes. I could only assure her that I would take good care of him.

In my arms, he witnessed the beautiful world outside,with his large droopy eyes, for the first time. I definitely said ‘Yes’, when this eight week old, seven pound fur ball asked me , ‘Be My Valentine’.

Max & Me: Act I- A Christmas Miracle

It was the joyous time of Christmas and we were in the City of Joy, Kolkata. Unlike in the US, where Christmas is a quiet family affair, in India everyone is out on the streets celebrating, mostly in gastronomic delights. 

We were there for our yearly trip to India and staying at the condo we still owned in the city, at that time, for the duration of our visit.

Along with the pleasures of the delectable Bengali cuisine, I also splurged myself with some gold and a lot of costume jewelry at Anjali jewelers in Gol Park. One thing that refuses to leave my memory though, is the delicious Mongines fruit cake, that my classmate from NIFT, Rachna had brought while visiting.

 Mongines is a famous bakery chain in Kolkata and used to be my favorite stop, when I lived there earlier. The cake came in fancy festive packaging and true to the stores punchline ‘ Moner Jinish ’ (things the mind loves) , it has lingered in my mind.

Amidst those material pursuits, unbeknown to me, in the other side of the world, my destiny was being written in liquid gold. It was the holy night of Christmas and a mother went into labor. Max was born.

The Enchanting Valley

When you close your eyes, you can smell the crisp freshness in the air and when you open them, you can be a witness to how Mother Earth appears, when she changes in green, from top to toe. That is the vibe that the enchanting valley of the river Duoro, in Portugal, emanates in you.

The travel enthusiast decides where she wants to go and then, she makes it happen. Such is the case of my visit to the Duoro valley. I came across its natural beauty, while looking up the wine producing regions of the world, a few years back. Since then I have watched few traveler videos and had it on the top of my wish-list, of places to visit. Not wanting to visit big cities like Porto and Lisbon, I decided to combine Duoro valley, on the trip to Catalonia and Castille in Spain.

It was a long day, with an early morning train from Barcelona to Madrid and then a drive via Segovia in Spain (another place on my to-go list) to the valley. While driving onward from Segovia, the road is endlessly semi-arid, and in some stretches, almost desert-like.  As the Portugal border was approaching, the scenery got even worse, probably a product of wild fires. There wasn’t much distance left, for the destination. My mind was in trepidation, about where we would end up, all at my direction. 

First Glimpses of the Duoro Valley

However, no sooner was the Portuguese border crossed, the landscape suddenly changed. It was like entering Pennsylvania, from no matter which direction. The roads suddenly become winding and hilly and beautiful, like they know one has entered the state. It was the same experience. Many rios (rivers) started making their appearance and greenery kept wiping out the aridness, until the turn into to valley approached. It was then, that Mother Earth had changed, completely into green.

For miles on end, the Duoro Valley is covered in undulating hills, which in turn are covered by vineyards dotted with olive groves. It was interesting to see how the terraced cultivation is patterned with both horizontal and vertical lines, in order to prevent soil erosion. The olive trees too serve towards that end, other than adding to the delectable cuisine.

View from Quinta De La Rosa

Quinta De La Rosa, Pinhao - Portugal

Lamego from a hill top

View of Pinhao from Quinta De La Rosa

Through this rural landscape, graciously flows the beautiful Duoro river, sustaining all the greenery. The area is spotted by three small white-washed Portuguese towns, Regua, Lamego and Pinhao. The vineyards are owned by different wine estates called Quintas, which also offer accommodation to the tourists, who visit the region. Each has a board in the hills, marking its cultivation. Most of the tourists who visit, come from Porto, via river cruises. These are folks looking for respite from the conundrum of the cities, for a date with nature, for as long as their lives can afford.

We stayed at Quinta De La Rosa in Pinhao and visited the other town named Lamego. Here there is an old church named Santuario Nossa Senhora dos Remedios or Sanctuary of Our Lady of Remedies. Erected in 1705, the church has a climb of 686 steps through a hill, to get to the shrine. It is a local belief that the virgin Mary seated there, provides a cure for ailments and pilgrims make the climb to get her blessings. We climbed most of the stairs and so did the four-year old Mahika, without complaining and having fun. For two flights we did take the detour that was available only on them, with a walking path on the side. It was worth the climb to visit the shrine, which was having mass then and it sounded like the voice of Enigma. The views of the city of Lamego from the shrine, were formidable.

Shrine of Nossa Senhora Dos Remedios

View of Lamego from the shrine

Needless to say, the Duoro Valley, more than lived up to its expectations and I left with a profound experience and a complacent heart!

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La Boqueria

I have a Reader’s Digest coffee table book, featuring 100 most awe-inspiring places in the world, that I loosely browse through, every time the thought of travel comes to my mind. While some of the places are off limits, because of rigor or safety concerns, a lot of them are ones that I aspire to visit someday. In the past, the book has taken me to places like the fortressed town of San Gimignano in Tuscany, over spending more time in the famous but crowded Italian cities.

I had been planning a trip to Spain, one of the top-most visited countries of the world, for a while, but it was yet to happen. When I opened the two-paged contents of the book, to see what featured in it, as worth visiting in Spain, I was surprised. Towards the top, of the alphabetical contents, was the Alhambra, the Moorish palace in the Spanish region of Andalucia, in the south. As I went down the list, there was only one other place in Spain, that featured in the top hundred – Boqueria Market in Barcelona. I wondered why out of so many famous places in Spain, it was a market that featured in the list, other than the Alhambra.

After checking some routes and even making an initial booking, I decided to skip the Alhambra during this trip and waited to see what Boqueria Market had to offer.

Spice store inside La Boqueria

And Lo Behold!! Situated on the most famous road in  Barcelona, the Las Ramblas, I realized as soon as I stepped in La Boqueria,  the reason behind the featuring in the top 100 Best places to visit. The market is a visual paradise of gastronomic offerings of varied colors, textures, tastes and a lot more, in very aesthetically decorated storefronts. The welcoming facade, greets visitors with a rainbow spread of marzipan in delightful shapes, followed by candy, fruits, fruit juices, a variety of snacks, vegetables, fishes, meats – everything that one may want to eat and all standing such, as if only meant for decoration. I for sure enjoyed my fresh fruits and tomato-mozzarella-basil empanada. My daughter was thrilled by the chips made of rolling a potato in a skewer, with a special cutter, that cuts it in a continuous roll of chips, without slicing individual pieces apart. The visual feel of La Boqueria, is hard to do justice to in words, so I am sharing a few pictures to showcase some of the delightful shops.

 

 

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The Bend On The Road Home

My trip to Shillong, was happening after five years. I was finally going to breathe the fresh mountain air that had given me life and sustained my childhood again. I was also going to see some of my college friends, after a long time. However, the fact that excited me the most, is that, it would be my daughter’s maiden trip to that beautiful land.

The plan was to meet my friends in the picturesque higher altitudes of the hill town known as Upper Shillong, but I was going to try my best to squeeze in a few moments in downtown Shillong and make a round of Ward’s lake, although with the standstill traffic into Shillong, I had to abandon the latter.

We started in the morning, along the singular road from Guwahati to Shillong, crossing the familiar landmarks, some of which stood there forever and some that were newer, but had made their mark. We crossed the Sai Baba temple and the famous Ganesha temple in Jorabat.

With a prayer on my lips and coin in hand, I bowed as the driver reduced the speed, so I could fling it on the temple’s terrace. It had changed a bit since my childhood days with many extensions. I must have crossed it innumerable times, while traveling back and forth, but never had the fortune of stopping and praying inside. It is one of those simple things in life that never gets realized, just because we don’t do it, even if we can, even if we want to.  In the same manner this temple has always been a drive-through shrine for myself and many others. I distantly remember visiting it in dreams. 

In Cherrapunjee, with a local roadside vendor, 'Kong' selling fire roasted corn

Soon after the temple, comes a few deep bends in the road, winding through the edges of the mountains. It is at this point, that you really feel like you are going to Shillong. The air suddenly starts to feel crisper and fresher. When we were younger and lived there, these were the much-awaited turns, that brought respite from the Guwahati heat. They were what we waited for, to cross, to feel like ourselves again.

This time, as I crossed them, completely unexpectedly, my heart froze. I longed for my home. The home into which my parents always welcomed me back with a warm embrace, while  the Shillong floors felt cold under my feet. The home that had all the books in the world, in every direction you could look. The home that had the Kissan orange squash glass bottle, long stripped off its wrapper, filled with chilled soft Shillong water, that could be the most refreshing drink ever, in the kitchen.

It hadn’t hit me until then, that none of that existed in there anymore. I hadn’t realized how much I would miss them. Shillong and home were synonymous and now they were separated. My mom had moved out of the town, after my dad passed away in 2015 and with that the Shillong saga had ended. I wondered how she must have felt coming down the hills, the same slopes, after having spent her entire life there.

I had left Shillong when I was eighteen to pursue college education in Guwahati. But I had always felt a sense of belonging because my parents lived there and now I was stripped of that feeling. I was just a visitor. I was just visiting

When I was a little, we traveled back and forth from Shillong in government transportation run buses. Few years later, fancier private buses, with a higher fare, had started plying. The latter had more comfortable seats and played '90s Bollywood music for much of the trip. Even amidst the noise, those were some of my moments of silence and reflection as an adolescent. At that age, I was somehow deeply convinced, that I would live in those hills and valleys, we crossed along the way, when I grew up. I couldn’t think of it being any other way. I wanted to be of and in Nature. It was only more fired up by movies (and songs that played in the background) which showed the protagonists, the lovers,  running away from their families and living in the woods.

Why were we all in such a rush to leave a land we so loved? I haven’t met people from any other place who reminisce their hometown as much as Shillong’ites do. There is something about it that is blissfully nostalgic, despite the disturbed situation back then.

Even now and with great frequency, I have certain places in Shillong emerge in my memory, out of nowhere at the most unthinkable times of the day. At such times, I am living and breathing in it for that moment.

Why do we get separated from what we love and then long for them for the rest of our lives? Maybe, it's all an illusion, after all!

Bakwaas (Utter Nonsense)

A bee sat on my chest

Bee as no one could be

Charting in a row

Darting like an arrow from Cupid’s bow 

Emerging like a rainbow

Fun in full flight

Godly was its sight

Heavens seemed to be calling 

Iridescent was its twinkling 

Jealousy was its plight

Kissing every vacuum 

Loving every wound

Meditating on its target 

Never turning around 

Opened up the souls gate

Pain was sometimes mighty

Queerness in sobriety 

Rage raveling in the almighty 

Such was its beauty 

Time was bound by sobriety 

Under the spell of the tide

Vanity brushed aside

Wandering in the night 

X-mas lights in sight

Yours truly bee was to keep 

Zindagi slept complete 

Bakwaas written on a sleeplesly sleepy morning before going back to bed using a Writers’ Digest prompt to write a poem of 26 lines with each line starting with consecutive letters of the alphabet