tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23281378205396595892024-03-12T17:18:46.261-07:00WanderingsWandering through what is commonly called life.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-37369722981357067072011-09-12T03:58:00.000-07:002011-09-12T03:58:41.627-07:00Kathmandu Integration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My last few days have been quite tempestuous. Long story short; I've face-painted, I've shopped, I've been photoshot, I've walked, I've run and I've drunk.</div>
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On Wednesday I was invited to the birthday party of my boss's 10-year-old daughter. As expected, however, there were as many strings attached as to an old-fashioned string-puppet. I was to perform the function of official face-painter. This had me painting butterflies, flowers, <strike>mickey mouse</strike> a random cat, spiders and more butterflies and flowers. I dare say I quite outdid myself. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Party Place</td></tr>
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After the party, I hitched a ride with my boss to his humble abode where we were offered drinks and food (very uncharacteristically of me, I partook in both). I was not the only important guest, however, as the new deputy prime minister had apparently found a hole in his busy agenda and was also present (together with several cars filled to the brim with grim looking armed fellows). The evening ended as evenings tend to end, with the disappointing realisation that we were not, in fact, going to drive for several hours to witness the sunrise over some distant hilltop, as I had been promised by one of the slightly less sober attendants of the after party. So we drove home instead, arriving at our own humble guesthouse in a rather cramped car around 1AM.</div>
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On Thursday I bought walking shoes. This purchase was a necessary one, as I had noticed on previous occasions that flip-flops and sandals just aren't that well-suited for longer walks in Kathmandu Valley. On this incursion to Thamel (the slightly more expat infested part of Kathmandu) I was accompanied by a (shock, horror) friendly Dutch Linda Ris which I had encountered only a few weeks ago on the last <a href="http://www.internations.org/ephotos/album_wall/17479?t=">Internations party</a>. After this joyous and rather restricted shopping-spree, I then joined her to the goodbye party of a Senegalese fellow <span style="color: black;">(John Aturinde) I </span>had only encountered once before. Needless to say, I was brought to tears on numerous occasions. I impressed others with my knowledge of the Indian Cuisine and there might also have been some alcohol at one point or the other.</div>
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On Friday I had a photo-shoot and answered some questions for a Nepalese youth-magazine called TrailBlazers. Nothing new there.</div>
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On Friday evening I went to another goodbye party, this time of someone I knew even more intimately. I had met Alec two times prior to him leaving my life forever, so it is pretty self-evident I had to drown my sorrows in Gorkha (the local Nepalese Brew). I met some more Dutchies and accidentally potentially really insulted some Germans (in my defence, I thought they were even more Dutchies). Nothing new there either.</div>
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On Saturday I had a day off (because Saturdays are Sundays in Nepal) so I decided to try this <a href="http://aponarch.com/hhhh/">Hash thing </a>people kept on talking about. It basically involves one group running a certain trail and another group walking another and meeting up at the starting point three hours later to regain all those lost calories with a couple of beers and some snacks. I - no one should be surprised about this - decided to join the walkers.</div>
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After a mere 5 minutes, however, I realised that "walking" involved a lot less speed than I had imagined it would, so I made the well-thought-through decision to catch up with the runners instead.</div>
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*awkward pause*</div>
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A little background info might be necessary here: I have not run for 8 years (not counting running for a train or bus, and I usually try to avoid doing even that), I'm a former asthmatic and a current smoker. Suffice to say: I am not a runner. So after running for slightly over half an hour and starting to feel REALLY FAINT (and having the distinct idea that my lungs weren't filling up properly anymore), I decided to beat the system in my own way and I walked the remainder of the time. </div>
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Little known fact : You shouldn't walk for long distances in shoes you have never worn. And you should certainly not run/walk for long distances in a relatively hilly/mountainous area with them.</div>
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Lovely views though.</div>
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<br />After the hash we were welcomed with beer and snacks. And some Fraternity-like activities.</div>
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Topper of the afternoon was me drinking beer out of my new (but slightly muddy and worn and dirty and stuff) shoe as a logical consequence to bringing new shoes to the hash... Quite fun indeed.</div>
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After taking a quick (but oh-so-welcome) shower with my shoes, I then went to the town centre for a well-deserved drink in the Blue Note. </div>
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When the bar started emptying its bowels around 11 PM (as is custom in Nepal), my little group decided that we weren't quite finished yet, however, so we went to the only nightshop in town, purchased some Gorkha's and went to one of the Dutchies' place. There, we did some creative writing (on the walls of the pantry) and generally prevented her roommates from getting a decent night of sleep until 4AM, after which I crashed at the place of another new friend of mine, 50something-year-old John.</div>
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In the (sunday) morning I had a nice cup of coffee which was sorely needed after 4 hrs of sleep, and took a cab to the guesthouse. There I lounged for a bit, still slightly woozy from the days gone by, and then left for a coffee tasting (insert wild enthusiasm strangely tampered by a lack of sleep and an excess of alcohol).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee Roasting</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suriname - Kenya - Nepal</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 cups of coffee (roughly ground), <br />1 glass for cleaning your spoon <br />and 1 for spitting in...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Per and my Suriname Espresso (mmm)</td></tr>
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The coffee tasting (or "Cupping") and introduction were organised by Nepal Face to Face (a guesthouse run by a charming Swedish couple whom I secretly impressed with my accent). The price of the tasting included "as much coffee as you want", but it wouldn't surprise me if they revised that rule after my visit....</div>
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Today is Monday and I'm still unsure whether I'm going to go to a local (expat) choir to join up...</div>
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All in all, I'm doing quite fine.</div>
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<i>Dam Enthusiasts, do not despair. Though I did not produce one this week, I did have a lovely walk the week before, resulting not in 1 but in 2 lovely dams. <br />Funny detail : the water is muddy because there was a bunch of Nepali busy trying to encourage rock-falls a couple of meters away from/above me... Scary.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVsOCPeTHrez6y4npFa_bF6oiUkLwLOPO-rJSKmx6cz-8J819lZUHurJ2yppT16RtlLhxQFFxFqlozcl8QCAloNuMThdC-p7HJ662ggLOv9SsdHzvOHwjeemleCBJyNItZAVKH-9Tl4k/s1600/DSC_0840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVsOCPeTHrez6y4npFa_bF6oiUkLwLOPO-rJSKmx6cz-8J819lZUHurJ2yppT16RtlLhxQFFxFqlozcl8QCAloNuMThdC-p7HJ662ggLOv9SsdHzvOHwjeemleCBJyNItZAVKH-9Tl4k/s320/DSC_0840.jpg" width="180" /></a></i></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I forgot to take a "before" picture here.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjIJ8Fa3vHFE87BPbawcTPmV8OVMnWZKTquZ6eKG-3_wkZ8PvpaKTZCJzbt-x8ExvkoUAwap0K6vtDhzlvLUqv7aNihj0VWJcOwCIYO1tqHxO_iPKSdfHoVwqo3WI5jtq3q8MEwKMSDE/s1600/DSC_0841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjIJ8Fa3vHFE87BPbawcTPmV8OVMnWZKTquZ6eKG-3_wkZ8PvpaKTZCJzbt-x8ExvkoUAwap0K6vtDhzlvLUqv7aNihj0VWJcOwCIYO1tqHxO_iPKSdfHoVwqo3WI5jtq3q8MEwKMSDE/s320/DSC_0841.jpg" width="180" /></a></i></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Before</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NOCRDf1p9txM0q3OWOpv_F9wHoBiWNQH-cbJa2lT01iUejdlC4M4xofJ-EWEU-9rbBHHPoFNdAKD2bE_TjTC0m6IT8UP1-cVGyubMOQb5Rg44G-dIFONPaQI8TbZ7GEjvcv3B4kI5Vc/s1600/DSC_0842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NOCRDf1p9txM0q3OWOpv_F9wHoBiWNQH-cbJa2lT01iUejdlC4M4xofJ-EWEU-9rbBHHPoFNdAKD2bE_TjTC0m6IT8UP1-cVGyubMOQb5Rg44G-dIFONPaQI8TbZ7GEjvcv3B4kI5Vc/s320/DSC_0842.jpg" width="180" /></a></i></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>After </i></td></tr>
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Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0Jawalakhel, Patan 44700, Nepal27.6744259 85.312329327.6603639 85.2925883 27.6884879 85.3320703tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-76705593244591278312011-08-30T05:08:00.000-07:002011-09-12T02:34:35.523-07:00Loafing through Lalitpur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have been in Lalitpur, Kathmandu for almost a month now, so I think it is time for another one of my much celebrated and slightly blase photography rants.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;">Rainy Sunny Streets of Lalitpur</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">And when it is Rainy Sunny, <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;">I spent one of my precious days off <br />
(aka Saturday in Nepal) <br />
cleaning up a temple. <br />
What else would one do?</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP329QbA1ps_rOnyuxGQ2H8zFINp1V4jy5v_q6aU6pRAEmjwjX0DmEXhZW5iQ6pVZLmYmHcHD-yGjBag7lZGxiICRQkjB_fCxwWFJ_7le9-82tDpFPvuWEIGLQAOngqy-o6pwOZR_WMRk/s1600/DSC_0761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP329QbA1ps_rOnyuxGQ2H8zFINp1V4jy5v_q6aU6pRAEmjwjX0DmEXhZW5iQ6pVZLmYmHcHD-yGjBag7lZGxiICRQkjB_fCxwWFJ_7le9-82tDpFPvuWEIGLQAOngqy-o6pwOZR_WMRk/s320/DSC_0761.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Kathmandu = Some really impressive sights...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjhMC_K8n7jX2A29w63Zi12PIFPGTouwTKsok8MmZg9xSEGl9n8Ccfb-vCnqNyS1IblkqiM_DUUg6XFkKsyDCDYIZax0Ko39c9Ck6iW-4K4VqebRqs31Dt1ICoN5UZ5FhtSnfbQDja04/s1600/DSC_0765+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXjhMC_K8n7jX2A29w63Zi12PIFPGTouwTKsok8MmZg9xSEGl9n8Ccfb-vCnqNyS1IblkqiM_DUUg6XFkKsyDCDYIZax0Ko39c9Ck6iW-4K4VqebRqs31Dt1ICoN5UZ5FhtSnfbQDja04/s320/DSC_0765+b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"> Unlike Mumbai,</div><div style="text-align: right;">Kathmandu hosts some nice street art...</div></div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyns8oesfgRI54Ck0hNkOn4SWhuGuc4QMq0kBSDSiGK_mBawNLfnTnHj5gncdd6-JwbqmA5R7xhfDWKwzwjZMiA71YULG2oefHDxmDpstr2IsZuAx-VfxWTSQu5xwCBucV5iRqaf4zkds/s1600/DSC_0776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyns8oesfgRI54Ck0hNkOn4SWhuGuc4QMq0kBSDSiGK_mBawNLfnTnHj5gncdd6-JwbqmA5R7xhfDWKwzwjZMiA71YULG2oefHDxmDpstr2IsZuAx-VfxWTSQu5xwCBucV5iRqaf4zkds/s320/DSC_0776.jpg" width="180" /></a><br />
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And another Rainy Sunny Day<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpi-4TEkTSkED4uFDA7Lj9y1YiOQ1AaeIEuCl7Fni77D89j_9zDyHuCgeiSPaRgRUM1fvhgCslajar-BifsnqRap_w8Pnj76nX9XYytXKMwHWTyC2WQ93Eq35F0Hlq6YTemiXRmE5z8OU/s1600/DSC_0777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpi-4TEkTSkED4uFDA7Lj9y1YiOQ1AaeIEuCl7Fni77D89j_9zDyHuCgeiSPaRgRUM1fvhgCslajar-BifsnqRap_w8Pnj76nX9XYytXKMwHWTyC2WQ93Eq35F0Hlq6YTemiXRmE5z8OU/s320/DSC_0777.jpg" width="180" /></a><br />
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This Doppelganger of Bart Magnus I met at an Internations Party. </div><div style="text-align: right;">Uncanny.</div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6lne3zAYT-4KJlDUPon_DKvYbEeSjmsGM2gPOK0A_kOgffrNBNLw43Jbzme4fPIdUCe46Dk6h02F-5WziGmhHmvqqiyo0fqJ-7Z-28Ac73V1ywT7g7UA8967N6TL5v_DuDA2yAX2DMw/s1600/DSC_0787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6lne3zAYT-4KJlDUPon_DKvYbEeSjmsGM2gPOK0A_kOgffrNBNLw43Jbzme4fPIdUCe46Dk6h02F-5WziGmhHmvqqiyo0fqJ-7Z-28Ac73V1ywT7g7UA8967N6TL5v_DuDA2yAX2DMw/s320/DSC_0787.jpg" width="180" /></a><br />
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Here be not just doppelgangers, but also Elephants<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ6ZsNikprqgSAsa5c2HXRrY8Xhtkz_x_3tWrv_uBdtC2r4lQcCyEFFIcKx50UmLhtRXyQFnBW2w6qiRC3ibCGF4BDw3BJv7nCoZWXm-xmG2KEAEp7c2P8CJ3cvKU9DYm_iO1i0Er3zB0/s1600/DSC_0791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ6ZsNikprqgSAsa5c2HXRrY8Xhtkz_x_3tWrv_uBdtC2r4lQcCyEFFIcKx50UmLhtRXyQFnBW2w6qiRC3ibCGF4BDw3BJv7nCoZWXm-xmG2KEAEp7c2P8CJ3cvKU9DYm_iO1i0Er3zB0/s320/DSC_0791.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">Here also be White Rabbits <br />
(and colleagues in Purple Shirts taking pictures of them)</div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNZ_DVdr40kAFqdjrhgxCBTBeVoic3Gu751QVi3Ks7bAYC1V485WZIwuCsHtatz2d60P2QaaZCGuc8-_9jwTmM4jlw-3VWUCCJGa2idXMOWpL-wZo91f5WxHb2jjwDyD_jj88jRzrnnQ/s1600/DSC_0798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNZ_DVdr40kAFqdjrhgxCBTBeVoic3Gu751QVi3Ks7bAYC1V485WZIwuCsHtatz2d60P2QaaZCGuc8-_9jwTmM4jlw-3VWUCCJGa2idXMOWpL-wZo91f5WxHb2jjwDyD_jj88jRzrnnQ/s320/DSC_0798.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Last Saturday, My Colleague Sandeep and I went trekking up one of the local hilltops.<br />
This proved to be great source for nice SnapShotMoments...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlS2qSX7LCgVM1ea5ll617iaIgbGiAhNP3g9NLCjW0fRLTpOYk_swXPHhb_6Grg0XpPZl278mxNerFvrUkW94jTmPzDHKllMqmaye40cVSrm8e4Wspug7T75KuhTNbLJuRUP3itQyi6mQ/s1600/DSC_0817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlS2qSX7LCgVM1ea5ll617iaIgbGiAhNP3g9NLCjW0fRLTpOYk_swXPHhb_6Grg0XpPZl278mxNerFvrUkW94jTmPzDHKllMqmaye40cVSrm8e4Wspug7T75KuhTNbLJuRUP3itQyi6mQ/s320/DSC_0817.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;">What does one do upon reaching the top? </div><div style="text-align: right;">Smoking, Squinting and Taking a Picture of course.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;">View of the Valley (and of a Cow)</div><div style="text-align: left;">Obviously</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7iCB3SkPKxJNHGWL6Ojlc18IZEbfJggcrtojMIUtkUXOAV_uMdllTKeiaLSEaO0mFembqslUG45XIFpAxx8SWiYB6WEFeTikCa4eXX-adB6HJNsUQofEfyXOMi_S3ca4RTKUUGkm91Y0/s1600/DSC_0827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7iCB3SkPKxJNHGWL6Ojlc18IZEbfJggcrtojMIUtkUXOAV_uMdllTKeiaLSEaO0mFembqslUG45XIFpAxx8SWiYB6WEFeTikCa4eXX-adB6HJNsUQofEfyXOMi_S3ca4RTKUUGkm91Y0/s320/DSC_0827.jpg" width="180" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: right;">I am a De Latte. What does a De Latte do when encountering a flow?<br />
He builds a Dam!</div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">The Flow in question was relatively muddy due to a recent (that very morning) minor Landslide .... Of course.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><br />
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I will keep you lovely folks at home posted on my whereabouts and (wrong)doings.<br />
For now, let me leave you with a "see you next month", as I will be venturing homewards (aka Comfortably Governmentless Belgium) for the first two weeks of October. Reservations of Time need to be booked early and promptly, as it is a very limited commodity ( a little bit like Water, but different)</div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0Patan, Nepal27.6666667 85.31666670000004227.6401377 85.291046700000038 27.6931957 85.342286700000045tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-61075991975717992352011-07-13T08:26:00.001-07:002011-07-13T08:26:42.671-07:00is alright. don't worryTomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-72869959066485825512011-04-16T00:01:00.000-07:002011-04-16T00:01:34.094-07:00Leave of Absence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">As mentioned before, Green Ventures recently moved its offices to the Essar offices in BKC.<br />
As mentioned before, I recently moved to a new apartment / studio<br />
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Essar has rather strict policies concerning the internet use of its employees.<br />
My apartment has no internetconnection.<br />
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Which means I can not access blogs ( oddly enough, I AM able to write them )<br />
Which means I can not access facebook<br />
Which means I can not access Skype<br />
Which means that, on some days, I can not access my gmail (internet policy of Essar made an exception for GV, considering that we need to check our GV mail, but sometimes this exception is forgotten...)<br />
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Which means that, on the whole, I will be a lot less active online.<br />
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I will, luckily, keep some of my access to the Intornetz through my AwesomeCookies Cellphone.<br />
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So dont worry if it takes a while for me to answer or whatever. I still live.<br />
</div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-50900073772468096972011-03-27T21:47:00.000-07:002011-03-29T02:42:49.535-07:00Pictures, Goats and Videos, oh my.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">Time to upload a few more pictures, me thinks.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">I recently got into a habit of stalking my colleagues to catch them when they take a nap (or at least look like they do). This is because they once took a picture/made a video of me seemingly taking a nap (though I was obviously just resting my eyes while pondering on the many questions of life) in the office.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZcKL5j_Phddx0ixAB8eH-_MUHZLileMgPBg9fijwPDW8eVy9rMoMsQKU6l53CYW92fzCgQZkAhvDFSIh-xymbICnJ-fr0dROVLKGrPe-nCfgqZQ68Op9h92NlppvtvRJveJBHeOlPLQ/s1600/DSC_0074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZcKL5j_Phddx0ixAB8eH-_MUHZLileMgPBg9fijwPDW8eVy9rMoMsQKU6l53CYW92fzCgQZkAhvDFSIh-xymbICnJ-fr0dROVLKGrPe-nCfgqZQ68Op9h92NlppvtvRJveJBHeOlPLQ/s320/DSC_0074.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is Smita Pattnaik. Don’t know her official title but it’s something to do with numbers & stuff. You know, the stuff I don’t really know anything about. I’m pretty sure somewhere along the line she’s calculating stuff that may prolong our lives on earth indefinitely, but I haven’t gotten her to admit this yet....</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2JKE2X3h7959ncreKTyH_Okc998hEtlpQt9hv0RBlEKnz1F4eU9k90EVEkBT4CV-3JU8GaItr4OC0u9QqLfYmHUi-y9T2-1i-fhJBBwCd8h9HBEx0V6pViOCQerhhY4wUhk3wInIz0M/s1600/DSC_0076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2JKE2X3h7959ncreKTyH_Okc998hEtlpQt9hv0RBlEKnz1F4eU9k90EVEkBT4CV-3JU8GaItr4OC0u9QqLfYmHUi-y9T2-1i-fhJBBwCd8h9HBEx0V6pViOCQerhhY4wUhk3wInIz0M/s320/DSC_0076.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is Sandeep Sai. He’s involved with engineering stuff. As in, he puts all the data in a nice document (which I then get to go over to make sure everything is understandable to us non-engineering types) which we then send to the UN in order to get them to approve of our AWESOME projects and give us money. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">And hugs. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Though I’m pretty sure we haven’t gotten any of the latter yet. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cheapskates.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNzg2fNU4TJ0wmbkP1_H8LwND3gg3J-n-PWxvLHquXop2xYpsX0Y__mPgFHhkLZhTyW34RHAo5e43l6HZx4f0rQK2W0x5Vz6s3lhqwK9fk5gboghMImEC-RzSY0oUa69_VJXgnk62T6U/s1600/DSC_0075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNzg2fNU4TJ0wmbkP1_H8LwND3gg3J-n-PWxvLHquXop2xYpsX0Y__mPgFHhkLZhTyW34RHAo5e43l6HZx4f0rQK2W0x5Vz6s3lhqwK9fk5gboghMImEC-RzSY0oUa69_VJXgnk62T6U/s320/DSC_0075.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is Rashmi R. Rajmane. Wouldn’t want to be a Chinese guy or the Pirate of Asterix when encountering such a name. She does stuff too. Projects and stuff. The Barshi project, amongst others. You know (though I know you don’t, you ignorant oaf you), the project in which GVV generously collected Evil ICLs (your old yellow hot lightbulbs) and replaced them with Awesome CFLs (your new, white, shiny convoluted bulbs). </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(this is me catching R.R.R sleeping and her noticing that I caught her and quickly hide behind her screen) </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(she’s a quick waker, that’s for sure)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I haven’t actually caught any of the other people resting their eyes yet. But if I will, I’ll let you know!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u><br />
</u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Recently I took part in Holi. For more info on the happening, see my lovely blogpost <a href="http://greenblogventures.blogspot.com/2011/03/holi-or-victory-of-demon-kings-son-over.html">here</a>. As can be expected, the blogpost is informative, catching & incredibly well-written. Feel free to print it and frame it on your wall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhChfrgUIGmOXtbUE-urcUkcnxCvojYmL52ofUEX4gqlt5m5p2oS0GdWTtsob3hyphenhyphengzRu5KKekCqTAzMTAxdRRZ_YM-IeymyPcisKOArsvN3__-KTIp48i-YSfE-S2p6bDC5REJpktmfhIw/s1600/DSC_0072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhChfrgUIGmOXtbUE-urcUkcnxCvojYmL52ofUEX4gqlt5m5p2oS0GdWTtsob3hyphenhyphengzRu5KKekCqTAzMTAxdRRZ_YM-IeymyPcisKOArsvN3__-KTIp48i-YSfE-S2p6bDC5REJpktmfhIw/s320/DSC_0072.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is one of the bonfires that I witnessed. It’s about 4 to 5 metres high. You can say alot about Indians, but don’t claim they don’t know how to build a bonfire. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cause they do. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">But don’t take my word for it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Look at the picture instead.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrBwH-xVrC3JXhZu6mDqjtQt2uyWBRIJHc3CBttyEAxeZsgn9bK43YMXKAWXTMQcnZ7clD5T66CdGuqhEaEPhhj0JGr9TjuUJFomELMSV8dlQnRPO5JH7NybL8DUXuh04jymEAYPFi0c/s1600/DSC_0066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrBwH-xVrC3JXhZu6mDqjtQt2uyWBRIJHc3CBttyEAxeZsgn9bK43YMXKAWXTMQcnZ7clD5T66CdGuqhEaEPhhj0JGr9TjuUJFomELMSV8dlQnRPO5JH7NybL8DUXuh04jymEAYPFi0c/s200/DSC_0066.jpg" width="150" /></a>This is me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have a moustache, sideburns, and a stupid smile. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Some things never change </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(Universal Laws, for instance)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">(well, they do when there’s a big bang or whatever, but then time actually starts/ceases to exist as well, so the “never” still applies...) </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(in a way) </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(doesn’t it?)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZKfBCheVY3CrZFOlPK2DWe2Ln8oEb-E9sBxxhUERCmNZWnPmLqjV1LjwlnMx8OrxywPrssiw5S_9AAIFSb1DCymntnws4it5tEsd6GmRmFJcHPdqDPmy8ABTbNFWhemkv7ztXHN_GCQ/s1600/IMG-20110321-00070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZKfBCheVY3CrZFOlPK2DWe2Ln8oEb-E9sBxxhUERCmNZWnPmLqjV1LjwlnMx8OrxywPrssiw5S_9AAIFSb1DCymntnws4it5tEsd6GmRmFJcHPdqDPmy8ABTbNFWhemkv7ztXHN_GCQ/s200/IMG-20110321-00070.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next to these lovely features, I am sporting a certain pinkness on my head, as a fortunate result of my Holi Adventures. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(oh, and I cut my hair)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">(well, a hairdresser did) </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u><br />
</u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As mentioned before, <a href="http://greenventures.co.in/">my company</a> is changing offices. We’re moving to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandra_Kurla_Complex">BKC</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EQwhMo-LXRe_Mf4RH9jsHYUfLFpXNJ3YLuFfGoPS2Vg1G2SeSxxuOdnDC8zLd-7h5pn3xmulhY_WiPSbiFkZ4OJk6hwQ6ro0q2sYLzYfOmC3tQs520WrhwKUn6TQ2yEv4qlzvAQA2gQ/s1600/DSC_0064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EQwhMo-LXRe_Mf4RH9jsHYUfLFpXNJ3YLuFfGoPS2Vg1G2SeSxxuOdnDC8zLd-7h5pn3xmulhY_WiPSbiFkZ4OJk6hwQ6ro0q2sYLzYfOmC3tQs520WrhwKUn6TQ2yEv4qlzvAQA2gQ/s200/DSC_0064.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A couple of weeks ago, we visited our new offices. And Kanaiya, Smita & I got flowers. Sandeep didn’t. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(the cool explanation for this is that we’re awesome)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">(the less cool explanation is that they were expecting three women, but Rashmi couldn’t come & Vandana was out of the office scouting for an apartment, so they gave the flowers to us instead.)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">(So let's stick to the "we're awesome") </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is a picture taken from and of the Sky Walk in Bandra <br />
(it’s yellow) (the Sky Walk, not the Picture)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvcS2V3LKYU3ij76U7A7ZJWxnN5cIzGDfUL0HHnWNIIowHVDRuX_CR8ZwS7to3fQWa2G3WFDqGJjaR7MLReQhSVfvkl8ZfGhM5evl6by1fozr7pyAuw9YvFQbqXqbezvYh_Z-iy25aDI/s1600/DSC_0061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvcS2V3LKYU3ij76U7A7ZJWxnN5cIzGDfUL0HHnWNIIowHVDRuX_CR8ZwS7to3fQWa2G3WFDqGJjaR7MLReQhSVfvkl8ZfGhM5evl6by1fozr7pyAuw9YvFQbqXqbezvYh_Z-iy25aDI/s320/DSC_0061.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> The Koterijen of Flanders are nothing compared to this. We have a lot to learn.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzq_b50cvymUjF-9EeX23_Cp-4w_SOGrzsL79PN2qpmZ_x9NWoS6wvk5MoUOPzio82pm5FI6Lyys9AR-BO3oA_YocBIwrQV4Z-743NcgP4D9OzcLGsWlevOj1B3GkNs_KpHAtqP-S_uyM/s1600/DSC_0059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzq_b50cvymUjF-9EeX23_Cp-4w_SOGrzsL79PN2qpmZ_x9NWoS6wvk5MoUOPzio82pm5FI6Lyys9AR-BO3oA_YocBIwrQV4Z-743NcgP4D9OzcLGsWlevOj1B3GkNs_KpHAtqP-S_uyM/s320/DSC_0059.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">(be impressed) (the one in SantaCruz is pink) (be even more impressed).<span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">A couple of weeks ago I went to a bachelor party uninvited. And considering everything was on the tab of the “lucky guy”, I ordered a Stella.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiCnNRCk18kZ_aC4sC67R7VATTVFQmWi_gxkbligbIdt69F1lRMVke1c680JRsQz0YLMiu2JFh7dCn9fN7zpJeDcUq_cSDD3EEes0nRR4XLYn4vHVkG6A347Bd1C6BDv5_Q8W606kEXI/s1600/DSC_0039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiCnNRCk18kZ_aC4sC67R7VATTVFQmWi_gxkbligbIdt69F1lRMVke1c680JRsQz0YLMiu2JFh7dCn9fN7zpJeDcUq_cSDD3EEes0nRR4XLYn4vHVkG6A347Bd1C6BDv5_Q8W606kEXI/s320/DSC_0039.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Irony proved to be too much & I spontaneously combusted on the spot.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I got better.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I saw this rik when I was in a rik. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(the meta-ness of it all amazes even me).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span id="goog_176159567"></span><span id="goog_176159568"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rj8NBjAGeS8WODCJcLOElM7CKkPOJ99-tuHJKyBZo0pjpxqTMlOW5beWXCGFZZrTEmfQQgZuQfkHf7MNDJTUO_pu7wPue62Hw6fVQVh4MaWc2uYm3TX5Ztq5iXmZpOyW3mp-r98TWnk/s1600/DSC_0031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rj8NBjAGeS8WODCJcLOElM7CKkPOJ99-tuHJKyBZo0pjpxqTMlOW5beWXCGFZZrTEmfQQgZuQfkHf7MNDJTUO_pu7wPue62Hw6fVQVh4MaWc2uYm3TX5Ztq5iXmZpOyW3mp-r98TWnk/s320/DSC_0031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Truly, the Mumbai king.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think that’s it for pictures.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Don’t despair, however. <br />
(well, not for me, anyway.If you have any other reasons to despair, please, don’t let me stop you) <br />
(unless you want me to stop you, in the case of which, please, stop). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ve got videos too! </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(insert fake cheering)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The bonfire of Holi (short video to express more clearly the magnitude of the matter). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwEaezyh8ZXnhFEd4SfYjvciXmupkgaeoZR_v7HS01B7B4HObc6AMHzdzvKRbDimUMGPe70BXnlGHuMOG8YXQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Also notice the casualness, the recklessness in which the Indian Woman walks towards her impending doom. Truly a courageous people, these Mumbaikar.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes, one encounters Animals in Mumbai. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next to the usual Dogs & Cats, one sometimes has the luxury to be slightly surprised.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I encountered two goats </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(though, to be honest, they encountered me, by gently making their presence known by bumping me in the shins with their well formed horns)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxeTm6F87MvOSrtmJuQRBcDf8KCHAG1tvPOtUbu8wEm-dxHvzvUkR2EN0K5ExoFiY7uGxJ00TkG3wRPpjGinA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I also encountered Two Buffaloes, pulling a Kerosene Tanker, while driving in a Mumbai traffic jam. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(I was driving, not the Buffaloes) (well, the Rik Driver was driving, not me).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzuJhgQ3JlAILDISqGOn2WnWVn1EnZiQQP5BqdifkrX1OgWd2ihlkoESQ3QTBwCu5uqtghvEyqSxcmolBq8jw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I admit that I’m representing the actual situation slightly wrongly here, considering that we’re obviously moving, whereas this would not be possible in a traffic jam. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">I assure you that none of this was put into scene (and that no animals, that I know of, were hurt). </div><div style="text-align: justify;">We merely had to wait for our rik to move, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to film those magnificent Children of God (aka, cows).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">For those curious to know where I drink my chai before and after work, here’s a short video of my surroundings. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw5aKt3CtDhqG1RLugg0qOV0p_LXc-MkXNJQZ1KT82oI9HgCVl0soBaOZz0ksIR01K58IeduhrcbBxHZkRatw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Also note the short cameo of RRR & one of my favourite street dogs. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(it used to be my favourite but got kicked from first position by this lovely little bitch with the cutest waggle)(tailwaggle, that is. Despite being Indian, I have yet to witness dogs doing the infamous headwaggle)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">(again, no animals were hurt in the making of this video) </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">By the way. I have also discovered this movie editing tool which is apparently standard on my Awesome Dell. Yes. I know it looks like Dung. I’m at the beginning of my learning curve here, give me a break.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the series of “this is my office and I’m taking a small break from work to play with my camera": </div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is my office & these are some of my colleagues. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyV8nqpmAMKchaFlvyds30kojpdZWQQ0MVgJ4oKGPoX04-gXkX2Fdd3cQH_PV0j_3IZ7N1iIq02F-Obhdfhxg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And they will probably hate me for this video (so Enjoy it while you can before they force me to remove it)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u> </u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Please stay tuned for our next instalment!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-86523451074719063532011-03-24T00:02:00.000-07:002011-03-24T00:02:51.635-07:00Location Location Location<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Considering my impending move to a new address, I thought it might be nice to actually show you where i've been living for the last several weeks.<br />
<br />
My apartment is here<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="350" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=19.176141,72.833497&num=1&t=h&sll=19.182756,72.835738&sspn=0.025741,0.008303&ie=UTF8&ll=19.176002,72.834495&spn=0.002133,0.005284&z=14&output=embed" width="425"></iframe><br />
<br />
<small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=19.176141,72.833497&num=1&t=h&sll=19.182756,72.835738&sspn=0.025741,0.008303&ie=UTF8&ll=19.176002,72.834495&spn=0.002133,0.005284&z=14&source=embed" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br />
<br />
My office is here<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="350" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=19.176784,72.833867&num=1&t=h&sll=19.176002,72.834495&sspn=0.002133,0.005284&ie=UTF8&ll=19.176357,72.835091&spn=0.002133,0.005284&z=14&output=embed" width="425"></iframe><br />
<small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=19.176784,72.833867&num=1&t=h&sll=19.176002,72.834495&sspn=0.002133,0.005284&ie=UTF8&ll=19.176357,72.835091&spn=0.002133,0.005284&z=14&source=embed" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br />
<br />
My New Apartment will be located somewhere here:<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="350" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=19.057091,72.847765&num=1&t=h&ie=UTF8&ll=19.056693,72.848861&spn=0.004269,0.010568&z=14&output=embed" width="425"></iframe><br />
<small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=19.057091,72.847765&num=1&t=h&ie=UTF8&ll=19.056693,72.848861&spn=0.004269,0.010568&z=14&source=embed" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br />
<br />
I'm not entirely sure where exactly the new offices will be located, but it's bound to be either a part or just outside of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandra_Kurla_Complex">BKC.</a><br />
<br />
The Upside of having my own apartment is .... well. That I have my own place, I guess....<br />
In Belgium, such an event would be generally associated with wild House-Warming Partays, with gallons upon gallons of cheap liquor and booze & ladies of ill-repute. In India, this is not very likely to happen.<br />
Though I might just go wild and have a sip or two of Rum in my room to celebrate. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-57941353785312514652011-03-16T20:53:00.000-07:002011-03-16T20:53:27.437-07:00If the key don't fit, find a new door.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It has been a while. For that, I apologize.<br />
<br />
If there are any other things for which I should do that, let me know. For once, the sage Dutch proverb “what does not know, does not harm” might be wrong.<br />
<br />
“Why has it been a while?”, you might ask yourself. Or you might not. Who am I to presume to know, let alone understand, the workings of the minds of my – doubtless – many readers.<br />
<br />
Well. It has been a while for countless reasons, of that, let there be no doubt. What those reasons are, however, is a different matter entirely.<br />
<a name='more'></a>One of them, probably, is “because I’ve been working on <a href="http://www.greenblogventures.blogspot.com/">Green Ventures’ blog</a>”. As those of you who have kept a personal blog and were then confronted with the task of creating a blog for your work from scratch might know, they don’t combine well. It’s surprising how fast the unofficial blog loses its appeal, especially considering the likelihood that part of the audience of both blogs is equal. And the whole "wait a minute, I get paid to work on this blog, and I don't get paid to work on the other... choices choices choices" choice.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQZGoz_jK_ErOpXiEyOq9cfwzw_rSFr8JujTJEhSsXqRM3KsHhQardArpRj0IUAP8UJATATV0DJKFv7hv0kegXn-SnTPsX9QugYU2s2wa_LYlyS9kQbZTb0IqriV3-69eV1B-NcwY6eo/s1600/gvblog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="97" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQZGoz_jK_ErOpXiEyOq9cfwzw_rSFr8JujTJEhSsXqRM3KsHhQardArpRj0IUAP8UJATATV0DJKFv7hv0kegXn-SnTPsX9QugYU2s2wa_LYlyS9kQbZTb0IqriV3-69eV1B-NcwY6eo/s400/gvblog.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Another reason is “I no longer have an internet connection in the place I’m staying”. Sure, the internet in the office still works fine & dandy, but you have to admit, the workspace and –time is not ideally suited for working on your personal blog.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucMe76lm2qiGtf8kmRgs8tVh50N5dVC7NJrc8N-dlWw3haYXgxLZya5rrdIQNhTnjUH8_4tfYXTHqkk-Da-zuGp_bWD-aXVhDAZkh0EOD-R60olS1VC5cypQ5GqZQO0HDCncNkGSL4LU/s1600/DSC00267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucMe76lm2qiGtf8kmRgs8tVh50N5dVC7NJrc8N-dlWw3haYXgxLZya5rrdIQNhTnjUH8_4tfYXTHqkk-Da-zuGp_bWD-aXVhDAZkh0EOD-R60olS1VC5cypQ5GqZQO0HDCncNkGSL4LU/s400/DSC00267.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Another reason is the more common one: “I don’t really know what to write about”. Those who know me better, and are aware of my withdrawn, quiet approach to things, will not find this surprising.<br />
<br />
But, as the Francophones say, “les excuses sont faites pour s’en servir” (“ l’excuse”, as you are undoubtedly aware of, is female, so the “t” in “faites” is pronounced.). Excuses are made to be used.<br />
Or as the English (or Dutch?) say, “if you want to do something, you’ll find a way, if you don’t want to do something, you’ll find an excuse”.<br />
Not that I had to look for excuses, or even make them. They presented them quite rapidly and easily. But still.<br />
<br />
For those interested in a practical update on my life, your wish will be somewhat granted. For those who aren’t.... well, sucks to be you.<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I’m still working in IndiaI’m still living & working in Malad (West) in Mumbai.</li>
<li>We (Green Ventures) will soon move offices to the Bandra Kurla Complex. </li>
<li>I should be moving to Bandra as well, except for the tiny little problematic detail (the type the devil is in) that I haven’t found an apartment yet.</li>
<li>I made a (so far short-lived) attempt at learning Hindi. For those of you who don’t know, Hindi has a lot of letters. ‘nough said. I will probably pick it up again in the near future, however.</li>
<li>I broke my phone (my faithful nokia, purchased in the Fnac in Ghent less than a year ago) while jumping on a stage. This is less impressive than it sounds. And I’m assuming it doesn’t sound too impressive. Also : pain.</li>
<li>I purchased a new cellphone. An XPeria 10. Yes, I have entered the Android Era. No, there haven’t appeared any electric sheep in my dreams yet.</li>
<li>I don’t think I have changed much, personality or other wise. I still have the same interests, quirks, habits.</li>
<li>I’ve cut my beard & have grown a moustache. And sideburns. And some semi-fungal growth underneath my lower lip (which, you’ll have to admit, is better than underneath my upper one) (though this would be a good thing if you can believe silly Dutch sayings).</li>
</ul><a href="http://www.dryden.ca/UserFiles/Servers/Server_6/Image/Dolphin%20text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://www.dryden.ca/UserFiles/Servers/Server_6/Image/Dolphin%20text.jpg" width="200" /></a>So. That was the update. I probably skipped things. It’s what I do best.<br />
(next to tickling dolphins, but I’m not allowed to partake in that hobby any more... stupid court order)<br />
<br />
If you have any questions, comments, jokes, remarks, observations, trifles, truffles, issues. Let me know. That is, if you want to. And if you think they relate somewhat to my person and/or this blog.<br />
This does not mean that I wouldn’t be delighted to hear about your interpretation of the eating habits of your doggy-woggy and the effects on his simply-fascinating stool. Well, I wouldn’t be. But don’t let that stop you!<br />
<br />
Sincerely yours,<br />
<br />
Your small castrated rooster,<br />
<br />
Tom.</div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-31503369009606050142011-02-09T09:50:00.000-08:002011-02-09T09:50:51.393-08:00Absence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Absence makes the heart grow fonder.<br />
Don't the Anglo-Saxons have such wonderful proverbs for just about everything?<br />
Then again, it's not just them. Proverbs galore in most languages. One for every sentiment. And even a few that don't really seem to fit anywhere at all.<br />
<br />
But that was not what I wanted to talk about.<br />
Doesn't it usually happen like that though? Especially with me, that is.<br />
You start off with this great idea for a conversation. You have it all worked out in your head.<br />
And then you trail off. Slowly but surely. Until the point where you, by god, can not remember where the frag you were headed.<br />
Problem is, though you don't remember the destination, you do remember it was going to be something fantastic. Awesome, even.<br />
<br />
I recently invented a new word. Though it has probably been invented before.<br />
So lets say I "discovered" it. Like fire, or America (if we're talking vikings or Spanish, that is, not if we're talking prehistoric native-american like folk) (though, at that point, of course, they weren't "native". They had only just arrived! No use getting ahead of ourselves).<br />
But different.<br />
<br />
Awesomenosity. It combines Awesomeness with a suffix as found in words like "Generosity". <br />
Which is pretty cool, you have to admit.<br />
If you're really feeling wild, you can even combine it with another favourite of mine.<br />
"Awesomecookies". Though, you'll have to admit, that might be takings things too far.<br />
Like Napoleon and Hitler in Russia.<br />
<br />
Seven extra men at the beginning of every turn, but you could never fraggin' hold it.<br />
Papua New Guinea, that's where it is.<br />
<br />
But I guess you already knew that.<br />
Didn't you?<br />
<br />
By the way: listen to Bright Eyes - Bowl of Oranges.<br />
It's very BrightEyesk, I know. But give it a shot.</div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-82808267220631514462011-01-30T07:34:00.000-08:002011-01-31T08:07:10.307-08:00I have a New Phone with an Improved Camera Function<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Current day India has many things.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUX41eVOsaNyokHnqQgSeHRXaeFRi4SXaiIUiU1KEQRa9W6to_S83-D9otta4qH4F0md43QC6eqpMlio0VjDkFO0jBuKMFz7tF6VPa03gQexIQ4oWA5t_UD5EIBzH-erpbD3EiwU2JNJk/s1600/DSC_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUX41eVOsaNyokHnqQgSeHRXaeFRi4SXaiIUiU1KEQRa9W6to_S83-D9otta4qH4F0md43QC6eqpMlio0VjDkFO0jBuKMFz7tF6VPa03gQexIQ4oWA5t_UD5EIBzH-erpbD3EiwU2JNJk/s200/DSC_0001.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
It has bananas<br />
(bananas is a funny word)<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQPvZRKyYdJ8eDEsTW_ddfYrScWp7gyeb_REp4tiIWEW4l5pyri1OlpI_yP1pTPOEqJfVigRlB7CaItd8gAfHepDmmWAT7upsY3BzCzUR1QYxAy_Un-SkdjKUfYvYG8hJCGQleY05hGw/s1600/DSC_0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQPvZRKyYdJ8eDEsTW_ddfYrScWp7gyeb_REp4tiIWEW4l5pyri1OlpI_yP1pTPOEqJfVigRlB7CaItd8gAfHepDmmWAT7upsY3BzCzUR1QYxAy_Un-SkdjKUfYvYG8hJCGQleY05hGw/s200/DSC_0002.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
It has me</div><div style="text-align: right;">(not to be confused with the note)</div><div style="text-align: right;">(though I'm pretty sure it has Mi too)</div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEejZ5J2YLUIwMboxeDrDnOKF8qPMsKIN_bDGiEx57-LlI_pqy9re-SMrRtavPhFcm4AbUVrb-yvjcQllluP56ZV9G8P6T1G4KpeQe9cxNapboj7rXO9EG4R-WvHS2WFIt23irhfgZzPI/s1600/DSC_0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEejZ5J2YLUIwMboxeDrDnOKF8qPMsKIN_bDGiEx57-LlI_pqy9re-SMrRtavPhFcm4AbUVrb-yvjcQllluP56ZV9G8P6T1G4KpeQe9cxNapboj7rXO9EG4R-WvHS2WFIt23irhfgZzPI/s200/DSC_0005.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
It has mannequins, covered in tight fitting red cloth.<br />
(the word mannequin, coincidentally, comes from the French "Mannequin", which comes from the Dutch/Flemish word "Mannekien" which meant "little guy")<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOKTuBKf3Ua8T_oGmZXHnkPVz4GLILF75q479HTP22-f5vZE_A-A-ygi-FJXejejYi0NVITYMRP4BDTtiNOjXjivORObsLW_gYmEv3Ym0Z2MrOEMKHupxa0xtOhgbm3SE0V0ZUcohRYQ/s1600/DSC_0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOKTuBKf3Ua8T_oGmZXHnkPVz4GLILF75q479HTP22-f5vZE_A-A-ygi-FJXejejYi0NVITYMRP4BDTtiNOjXjivORObsLW_gYmEv3Ym0Z2MrOEMKHupxa0xtOhgbm3SE0V0ZUcohRYQ/s200/DSC_0007.jpg" width="150" /></a> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">It has Dogs & Puppies</div><div style="text-align: right;">(Puppies!!!!)<br />
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<br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3zZJPNgMvvifJqulLY6Yu394_IdRG_56lPrhKdJEJTEULLYOpnua5dse9UrklnrzTRt-HuT3zsH6wZo0NDBirecnyPekBFlSkFTA0zAxqSRbxG8hbwqij42-4vipiREEbuFtfl27kxM/s1600/DSC_0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3zZJPNgMvvifJqulLY6Yu394_IdRG_56lPrhKdJEJTEULLYOpnua5dse9UrklnrzTRt-HuT3zsH6wZo0NDBirecnyPekBFlSkFTA0zAxqSRbxG8hbwqij42-4vipiREEbuFtfl27kxM/s200/DSC_0013.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
It has street lights that are vaguely reminiscent of times past.<br />
(reminiscing is a nice word)(though the activity is quite ok too)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEejZ5J2YLUIwMboxeDrDnOKF8qPMsKIN_bDGiEx57-LlI_pqy9re-SMrRtavPhFcm4AbUVrb-yvjcQllluP56ZV9G8P6T1G4KpeQe9cxNapboj7rXO9EG4R-WvHS2WFIt23irhfgZzPI/s1600/DSC_0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">It has exciting Riksha Rides </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxW8pxjjlWRkB5UFBPLM55DVTKaMr-glZoYzPf5Qcu8tOiiQ2Y7gUlqFbUn-eufVJ1bjhL6yOoNNhqdfduKsA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Just after the video was shot, the rik next to mine drove into a motorcycle)</div><div style="text-align: center;">(It was funny)</div><div style="text-align: center;">(It is okay that I think it is funny because no one was seriously hurt)</div><div style="text-align: center;">(I know this because all three people involved got up & started shouting at each other)</div><div style="text-align: center;">(I think you'll agree that this is a pretty good indication of my claim)</div></div>Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-22258660863710119042011-01-27T10:07:00.000-08:002011-01-27T10:09:03.168-08:00Burgh, rather than BlogI know my blog looks weird right now.<br />Despite my earlier statement that I didn't feel like working on a blog after working on another one for several hours, I gave it a try anyway. I tried using some of the things I had learned while working on the other one.<br />Suffice to say, I gave up before I actually got my sh*t together....<br /><br />It will be fixed soon(ish) though.<br />No worriesTomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-69072836830574415672011-01-27T00:25:00.001-08:002011-01-27T00:27:59.269-08:00Lack of Blog Posts & PicturesI realise there has been a lack of blog posts & pictures lately.<br />There is a very simple explanation for both of these shortages.<br /><br />The latter lack is explained by a lack of cellphone (in my case aka my camera). This has now been solved. <br /><br />The former lack is explained by the fact that I now spend several hours a day checking stuff on the internet & working on the new company blog. This does not make me very inclined to spend more time on another blog. My apologies.<br /><br />Hopefully the posting will resume in the future, and with it, the pictures.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-72087953508854451032011-01-22T10:57:00.000-08:002011-01-22T10:59:28.650-08:00Mumbai NightI am killing mosquitoes.<br />I am watching Watchmen.<br />My neighbours are chanting/singing. Loudly. Badly. I'm unsure whether it is to some music programme, or whether it is religious. I'm unsure which would be worse.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-87592547842867855992011-01-21T02:36:00.000-08:002011-01-21T02:37:39.180-08:00PracticalitiesI am now in possession of headphones & a mike.<br />in combination with the camera I already had,<br />makes me this Skype Worthy.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-77991499467756386442011-01-19T09:16:00.000-08:002011-01-19T09:20:02.249-08:00The Official Version of ThingsI will also be writing for the Green Ventures Blog. More "detailed" information on my official actions will appear on there....Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-39439901624466397942011-01-19T09:11:00.002-08:002011-01-19T09:12:12.701-08:00Jan 19We arrived a little past 8 AM in Dadar station, Mumbai. We took a taxi home. I had a nap. Then a shower. Then I brushed my teeth. Then I went to work at around 10 AM. <br />Today was my first official day in the office. Got an update on my future tasks. It all seems really rather interesting. More on that later. <br />After work I had chai with Sandip. I then went to the apartment to get changed. I then went to Inorbit to buy toiletpaper. I am now sitting in Costa Coffee writing my blog. The waiters have changed and so I actually had to get up and order my coffee (instead of just waiting for them to know my order and bringing it spontaneously with a big smile). The world’s heart must have skipped a beat.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-31693260296380928682011-01-19T09:11:00.001-08:002011-01-19T09:11:54.589-08:00Jan 18Jan 18<br />Or at least, that’s what should have happened. Fate, however, had different plans for me. Right before leaving to our hotel, I was briefed by Krish with my future tasks-list. One of them included writing an article (a mere draft, I have to add out of my usual honesty) for the Times of India on the Barshi Project & the stakeholder meeting the next day. Due date : the next day , at the press conference). I worked (with the patient and very helpful help of Rashmi, may I add) till 2.30 on this. (my work was slightly prolonged by the fact that I had deemed it unnecessary to take my laptop on the trip. Oh woeful choice. I had to borrow Som’s laptop). <br />The next day I had the article finished (if finished it could be called after such a short period). It was approved (with a few minor changes) by Krish at breakfast. <br />After breakfast the Validator arrived (basically : a person who comes to check the validity of our claim to CDM status for our project). He was a nice guy called Jimmy. While most of the team remained behind with him, I left with a small group to the 18th Century Gopalkrishna temple in Gopalpur (Pandharpur). We did a tour of the assorted temples there (one, in particular, I liked. It was a big copper wheel that you had to turn for a few turns while the two priests/monks/acolytes/temple attendants/? Chanted a few verses. I thought it rather symbolic and nice. ) We then proceeded to prepare the area for our Stakeholder Meeting. I was wearing (unlike the day before) a GVV shirt (yellow with the GVV logo imprinted upon it) & a fancy blue cap with the GV logo. Fancy. <br />After spending a couple of hours preparing everything, the meeting started and I, once again, took charge of the camera. While performing a heroic leap up some stairs, however, I missed a step. Horizontal/diagonal movement quickly turned into vertical/diagonal movement. In other words, the ground soared towards me. Luckily for me, my cellphone broke my fall (feel free to drop the first three and last two words of this sentence). I am limping still (it is now half past 8 on the 19th of Jan). I then, cowardly, I know, relinquished my control over the camera machine to Sandip, who seemed slightly better in control of his limbs. Slightly less flailing, slightly less exuberant liveliness (mind you, I have nothing against flailing, exuberant liveliness. On the contrary, my best friends are flailing, exuberant livelinesses). <br />After a lot of speeches in a lot of languages I did not understand (aka: two: Marathi & Hindi) (In my defence, my colleague Sandip isn’t really fluent in those either, so néh!), we were, once again, presented with flowers. And coconuts. Obviously (there is nothing that says “thank you for the efforts and the CFLs” better than a coconut, don’t you think?).<br />We then went back to the hotel where the press conference would happen.<br />I am afraid to admit I was extremely tired by this point (the lack of sleep & the lack of jetlag recovery & my rather abrupt fall & my not being entirely cured from my light cold the week before might have something to do with this. But I might be mistaken). I managed to sit through most of the conference, however, and even managed to scribble some notes. (Notes I, for some reason, am unable to read any more.)( I must have been temporarily able to write some other script. Must have been one of those “talking in tongues” things the bible mentioned. )<br />After this we had a short break (I had a nap) & then we had dinner. Around 11 PM we took a train back.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-368792001809247882011-01-19T09:10:00.001-08:002011-01-19T09:10:57.884-08:00Jan 17 : IIWe did a lot of visits. First we met with the Head of an NGO we work with. There I got a (insert fancy Indian term meaning “dash of red ochre on the forehead”) and a (insert fancy Indian term for “shawl”). Snazzy. <br />Then we went to visit one our projects. I had, early in the day, laid claim on the official camera, so I was charged with using it. Needless to say (but I do like to blow my own trumpet now and again): I was glorious.<br />The project consists of our company taking the kerosene lamps from the villagers in exchange for fancy rechargeable solar lamps. And taking their ICLs in exchange for CFLs. Obviously. One of the advantages of those two (solar & CFLs) apparently is their “nice, white, bright light”. This sounds rather extremely silly, but is actually a lot better for the eyes and will allow the villagers to work in normal circumstances when the sun is down. Cheerio.<br />We had lunch (though that might have been before the visit to the project. Time is muddled in my head (muddling is quite popular in there, I’d wager, considering the general state of my thoughts). <br />We then visited a school. The students had, as valuable work experience, helped us out with a survey (think door-to-door “excuse me sir, can we ask you a few questions on your use of electricity & kerosene for lighting?”. Insert a few interrupting door-in-face moments and you’re probably not even close). Which really was rather nice of them. Krish & Michael did a speech. Everyone from the GVV team (including me) got flowers. Yeay me.<br />Some students hung around to ask Michael for an autograph. I patiently made myself available but they didn’t seem to get the hint. One day, when I’m rich(er) and famous(er), they will realise their mistake and gnash their teeth.<br />We then went to another hotel (where we would have our press conference the next day), had dinner & went to bed.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-41369240168967994682011-01-19T09:09:00.000-08:002011-01-19T09:10:23.845-08:00Jan 17: IBarshi, some village, Status Hotel, 8.22 AM<br />In the car from the trainstation I asked Kanaiya whether or not I should, in fact, shave. Som had hinted at this but I wanted to make sure. He confirmed that I should. We arrived in the Village at around 4 AM. After getting installed (and getting the impression that everyone was going to go to bed – which was logic, after the train ride we had just been on, and during which no one really slept (well) ), I decided to go out for a bit and enjoy the calm of a waking village with a cigarette in hand before going to sleepy land myself for a couple of hours.<br />Having finished my cigarette, however, I was confronted with Sandip who wanted to go for a walk. I did not refuse. I had slept relatively ok on the ride to Barshi, I didn’t really feel like sleeping and I thought it was a good opportunity to get to know my new colleague (he probably had the same reasoning, though he confessed not having slept a wink on the train). <br />We started walking in a random direction when Sandip, to my slight surprise, turned out to be a smoker too, so we had a cigarette. We walked for about an hour and a half, stopping twice for a Chai (the little chai stands on the side of this rather rural village were already open) & having another cigarette. The streets were surprisingly crowded (for it being that early), but that was rather normal according to Sandip, seeing that it was a rural village and the villagers generally woke up early to start working and make sanitary visits…<br />I saw several puppies & a few cows. Not to mention scores of dogs. Ah, the memories. <br />It was nice and cold there, which was accentuated by Kanaiya(ji) – his name, apparently is written like that, and not like I had been writing it on the blog so far; The “ji” is a suffix indicating respect for his age (slightly over 30) and seniority in the company – wearing a sweater and earmuffs. I found the temperature really quite pleasing as it reminded me of a typical Belgian summer’s eve. <br />I went to bed around 6 am. I couldn’t catch sleep, mind mauling through the past couple of days (including my rather hasty departure from Belgium). Which once again shows that time perception is subjective, seeing that I Did fall asleep within half an hours, considering that I was awoken at 6.30 am by Kanaiya’s alarm clock. I dozed a bit, decided to shave after all and had a South-Indian breakfast (dosa’s and chai).Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-24138171337831124642011-01-19T09:05:00.000-08:002011-01-19T09:09:12.217-08:00Jan 16 : elaborate versionMy flight was pretty ok. <br />After saying goodbye in Zaventem to Katrien D, Alex & Anna, Tim V, brother Bart and brother Stefaan & Tatjana (which, by the way, was very much appreciated), I went through the gate (B, for those curious few amongst you). I reached my final destination (for the time) relatively easily, taking but one wrong turn, and found out my plane had a 20 minutes delay. <br />I had a cigarette & lounged a bit. (I am not good at lounging)<br />I boarded the plane and spent the next couple of hours in silence, watching a movie that didn’t really stick to my mind (apart from a relatively nice appearance from Ashton Kutcher as an assassin for hire). Right when we were about to land, I decided to talk to my neighbour, however. Cause that’s one of those things I feel I should (be able to) do. He was called Lucas and had a charming French accent (though he was not actually from France, it turned out after some conversation. Where he was from, I couldn’t fathom, considering that he named way too many places he had lived in). He was on his way to Bangkok where he was about to throw his life around (not the first time he did that, it turned out). I told him I was in a relatively similar situation. <br />We both got out at Cairo (it would have mightily surprised me had he decided to stay on board) & stuck together a bit (Cairo was, for the both of us, a virginal experience)(in the sense that it was our first time there, not in the sense that it had a virginal outlook. It was Egypt. Use your head). We had a coffee, I had a cigarette in the smokers lounge (smokers lounges in airports deserve a post by themselves. Though I do not know whether I will be the one to write it). He then boarded a plane to Bangkok. I had another coffee. I then boarded a plane to Mumbai. <br />There was a relatively nice guy. Didn’t quite catch his name. It was Indian-sounding though. No surprise there. <br />He accepted one of my strawberry shoelaces (those who know them, know what I’m talking about. Those who don’t…. I pity you) (btw: thanks again for the goodbye gift Stefaan). I had only wanted to be nice (he did not have the international look Lucas had), but he obviously had other ideas. He talked to me about my and his work (he was in the paper business, which, for some reason, he thought would make him my enemy (as a “green boy”)), he asked whether I ate out a lot (yes) and that I should consider marrying. Marrying solves the problem of cooking, cleaning and shopping apparently. I told him I thought I was too young, but that I would consider his ideas. <br />Arrival in Mumbai slightly ahead of schedule. I was awaited by a nice chauffeur whose name has now (permanently) escaped me. He dropped me off at the apartment. I unceremoniously took the elevator to the wrong floor and finally ended up at the right one. I rang the bell & was let in by Krish. <br />I took a cold shower (literally) & met one of GVs Directors & his wife. Michael Beninga & Ingrid (names which I find delightfully easy to pronounce and write, especially considering the trouble my new country men seem to be having with them)(for those having an “aha!” moment, don’t worry. I do not yet consider Indians as my countrymen. As before, I find myself feeling more European and Belgian by the day)(then why did I use the word? Because I felt like it and because it sounded nice, why else?). He’s Dutch/Swiss/Spanish/…. , she’s South-African/Swiss/Spanish/….. Both are nice. I also met the offspring of Krish. Two rather active girls called Kavia & a-name-that-I-can-never-ever-remember, aged very-young. Also, very nice. <br />All four had met my Godfather & Uncle, Herman De Latte. The world is not as small as it feels.<br />I wanted to go out to Inorbit (the local mall) to buy some basics (aka: Toilet Paper). Had to read a business plan of GVV (Green Village Ventures) instead, to prepare myself for the upcoming trip. I fell asleep halfway, having accomplished neither my intended, nor my final plan. <br />We left by 6 PM something –ish. We took a taxi (a nice, AC-ed one) to one of the major rail stations in Mumbai (the name, like an experienced convict, escapes me). There we took a train to Barshi.<br />We ended up in the2nd class, played some cards (that I, oh happy happenstance) had brought with me. I taught them Wippen - the game of Kings – when we found out (the hard way) that it’s really quite impossible to play Texas Hold’m without coins or anything that can serve as such. I was glorious.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-45212921513870357702011-01-16T04:28:00.000-08:002011-01-16T04:31:18.257-08:00BarshiIt is now 17:32.<br />I have slept for the last 5 hours (I think). Stupid Jet Lag. <br />Am about to leave (I think) for Barshi (wiki it, you bum, and you’ll know as much about it as I do) (probably more). <br />Will be there for the next two days & then come back.<br /><br />there<br />now you know as much about my coming two days as I do.<br />Use the knowledge well, my young padawan.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-91804274533248487322011-01-15T19:55:00.000-08:002011-01-15T20:09:18.223-08:00ArrivalI have arrived.<br />it is now half past nine, local time. so four am, belgium time. <br />it is relatively "cold" outside. that is, for Indian standards. Belgians would be happy to have this kind of weather in July. <br />Took a shower (the problem with it being "cold", is that the cold water showers stop being "eternal bliss" but more of the annoyance they would be in more northern parts of the world).<br />am now enjoying my first cup of Indian coffee (the water-soluble kind).<br /><br />Am beginning to realise what I have embarked upon. Though I don't doubt that I still have no fraggin' clue about the extent.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-32673230457671878442011-01-13T03:54:00.001-08:002011-01-13T03:56:46.606-08:00Something PracticalI'll be leaving Ghent at 12 PM on Saturday the 15th.<br />I will board a plane at Zaventem at 3PM on Saturday the 15th.<br />I will arrive in Cairo in the evening of the 15th.<br />I will arrive in Mumbai in the morning of the 16th.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-73238371665962506562011-01-11T03:33:00.000-08:002011-01-11T03:35:42.742-08:00Favourite TransportWhat is Your Favourite Transport?<br /><br />The bike? The wind in your hair? The feeling of your muscles working in perfect cohesion? The way you can swiftly swerve through the heaviest of traffics? The ease of parking any where any time for free? <br /><br />The car? The speed at which you move along the great roads, spread out over Europe like big curly letters, forming words and phrases with never (or rarely ever) a full stop? The freedom to get up and leave, with nary preparation or warning, and only a vague care about the road, the weather and you.<br /><br />The plane? Distant destinations unfurling one by one? The single-serving napkins, blankets, footwear, friends? The handily packed, readily heated meal, with a lovely scone-with-butter-and-some-jam and a coffee? A score of movies & other tidbits at your disposal, only a click away? The personnel, ever smiling, ever helpful, ever vaguely hinting at sexual escapades and adventures? <br /><br />The boat? Freely floating flotillas on the deep blue sea? Dozing and drinks on deck, nothing but blue-gray-green masses surrounding you? Pitting yourself against the elements in the oldest way known to man? Using the ancient roads across the world?<br /><br />Or rather the train? Philosophising on the one true nature of man? Listening to conversations between strangers, sharing a smile with another fellow listener? Letting your gaze wander outside, skimming the skylines of the country? Lazily browsing through a book? Reading or pretending to, whilst secretly (yet not too secretly) checking out the other passengers? The feeling of travel, of freedom, of sights yet to be uncovered or further explored? The gentle lullaby of rolling wheels on the never-ending tracks?Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-78927723426822021512011-01-06T15:29:00.000-08:002011-01-06T15:31:49.661-08:00MusicListening to music. <br />You feel. <br />You fly. <br />You float. <br />You swerve.<br /><br />For a while. <br />Not more. <br />You’ll get back soon. <br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Earth to you. Where are you? Come back soon!</span> <br />You will. <br />But you’ll miss the music. <br />The wind in your hair, your limbs, your heart. <br />You’ll miss the music. <br /><br />You’ll go back to it. <br /><br />Going back to that temporary reprieve of solitude, boredom, anxiety. Of life. <br /><br />Music is like the balm of your soul. Like balms, it only works for a while. <br /><br />Unlike balms, it will never be finished. <br />There will always be more music. Enjoy it.<br /><br />While you can.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2328137820539659589.post-53978955921401744102011-01-06T15:27:00.000-08:002011-01-06T15:29:45.126-08:00HugsDo you ever want to just hug people?<br /><br />Be close to them? Touch them. In a non-sexual, non-aggressive sort of way?<br /><br />Be near them? In a non-suffocating, non-threathing sort of way?<br /><br />People. Others. Being surrounded by... not by love, but by... I don’t know...<br />proximity?<br /><br />The feeling of others around you. The feeling of a (warm, living, acting) body in your arms. The feeling of someone close to you, knowing that this person wants to be close to you too. <br />Or at least doesn’t mind.<br /> <br />Knowing that this might be the last time you (ever) see these people? <br /><br /><br /><br />Do you ever feel lonely? Surrounded by people?<br />They might be – could be - will be – ripped out of your life, your soul in the (near) future. And you can do nothing about it. <br />Nothing. <br />Nada. <br />Noppes. <br />Nougat bollen. <br /><br />Sucks to be you doesn’t it? <br /><br />If it's any comfort: Not more than it does to be anybody else.Tomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16749097474347404686noreply@blogger.com0