London-Delhi, via DC

The story of Lauren and I is certainly curious. It seems in fact we have spent our past years running after each other. We met in London seven years ago during our Masters. After graduation we both temporarily moved to Northern Europe: Lauren to Brussels, and I to Paris. Not more than one year after we met again in DC, where we both found a job. We spent a few years there, meeting each other from time to time for a drink or so, until when Lauren left to Manila. Not later than one year after, I was on my way to Delhi.

We had completely lost track of each other until yesterday, when we met - absolutely by chance - at a workshop.

Who is following who? And, above all, where will we meet next time?

Indian mourning

Today our landlady has died. Or ‘is gone’ or ‘is not anymore’, as the Indians say, because it is too sad to pronounce the word death.

She used to live at the ground floor in our building. Her building. A refined, well-mannered old lady, extremely kind and polite, with whom it was always pleasent to have a chat whenever we crossed each other on the stairs.

She died today. The sad news was brought to us by Pansigh, our factotum, in tears. Because he, together with his wife who used to accompany her every day to the park for a walk, were part of her ‘enlarged family’. A family suddenly without head.

Likewise, when I went downstairs to offer my condolences to the daughter, I could not restrain myself to shed a few tears, probably because - perhaps unconsciously - we had also become part of her family.

Mal d'Africa

Photo credit: Mathilde (Botswana 2010)

Where is Mathilde?

In Africa.

While Matteo overloads the Blog with pictures from South and South-East Asia, Mathilde resurfaces from a week in the bush (no telephone, no Skype, no internet) in Botswana with these beautiful pictures - which remind us why you can suffer from ‘mal d’Africa’ (mal d’Afrique, Africa’s homesick).

Mathilde will arrive in Delhi on Sunday.

Looking forward to it J

Same same (but different) (2)

It actually resembles a bit Goa...

Same same (but different)

Back from Sri Lanka. Too short our stay to actually be able to form any firm opinion on this - had we had more time - certainly interesting country to discover. To those that would ask me how Sri Lanka is, I would reply in the exact same way I was answered when I asked the same: “It’s like India, but better”. Cleaner roads, no honking, neater traffic...

In sum: same same, but different...

Seven years ago in Hampstead Heat

Everything began seven years ago on an autumnal afternoon in Hampstead Heat.

Tanti auguri a noi (best wishes to us, félicitations à nous),

Matteo and Mathilde

Guess which the only country where there are still the monsoons in November is...

Average monthly precipitations, Colombo

To be precise, there are two monsoon seasons in Sri Lanka: one from October to January in the North and the East, and one from May to August in the Southwest (plus an inter-monsoonal season in October and November).

However you look at it, in whichever part of the island you are in November, it rains...

Mesiano and the Singhalese - Jamming session at the Bentota Beach Hotel, Sri Lanka

After ‘Voices from the Thar Desert’, another great performance of Mesiano: ‘Mesiano and the Singhalese - Jamming session at the Bentota Beach Hotel, Sri Lanka’ (click here to watch the video).

I tre dell’Ave Maria

Un po’ Tognazzi-Moschin-Noiret in ‘Amici miei’. Un po’ Calà-Boldi-De Sica nei cinepanettoni di Vanzina. Un po’ Aldo, Giovanni e Giacomo.

Tre* italiani in Sri Lanka…

(*) You already know Riccardo and me. Let me now introduce the third of the trio: Beppe from Bergamo, JPO in Colombo.

Bambino e Trinità

At the airport, towards Sri Lanka J

Off to Sri Lanka

With the sudden perspective of leaving India soon, I started noting down the things that I would have liked to do and that I have not done yet.

While I just managed to do some of them* (and getting organized to do some other), I sadly realized that I will not be able to do most of them. Too many things to do and to see. One life would probably not be enough - let alone a few weeks.

Anyway, within this context Sri Lanka has in the past months increasingly tickled my fantasy. Vivid colours, ruins of ancient cities, Buddhist temples, lush rainforests, white sand beaches... A trip to Sri Lanka was however one of things that, however attractive, I knew I had to postpone to another time - if not to another life.

But never say never. Taking advantage of the Diwali long-week-end and of a few last-minute tickets, Riccardo and I are just about to board - destination: the ‘former Cylon’.

It will be just a tasting - but surely better than nothing. We’ll be back on Sunday eve, hopefully with a few nice pictures and some good stories to tell.

(*) I took the Delhi metro for the first time over the week-end for instance: an experience (a post on it soon).

Bienvenido Alejandrito, bienvenue Emily!

Les M&M’s welcome Alejandro and Emily among their Blog’s ‘official followers’. Welcome!

Alejandro, an old friend from our times in Washington, a Mexican who has now moved to Argentina (no, it’s not an oxymoron). A dark hero: gloomy outside, warm-hearted inside, he believes in true friendships and good cervesas. Lawyer, he tried to redeem himself by putting his skills at the service of development cooperation. But nobody truly believes his conversion: he works for the World Bank!

Emily, Chino-French, charming and seductive, an old schoolmate of Mathilde who has now happily moved to Singapore. Soon-to-be mum, we take this opportunity to wish her all the best!

(Btw, do add a picture on your ‘follower’ profile J)

Guess what les M&M's have decided...

Les M&M's have made their mind. Participate to our quiz:

(1) guess what - in your opinion - they have decided,

(2) post your best guess under "comments",

(3) check in a couple of days the correct answer and see how well you know them.

The choice will be revealed soon...

Fiji*, Johannesburg, Rome - where would you like to come to visit us next year?

Help us in taking our decision, do participate in our survey and tell us where you would like to come to visit us next year!

(*) By the way, how many of you can find Fiji on an outline map (cartina muta, carte muette)?

Once again, at the crossroads...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

(Robert Frost)

Thailand (and Thais)

Certainly two week-ends and a week mostly spent between conference rooms, taxis, and hotel rooms are not sufficient to get a definite idea of a country - and the risk is to be superficial or to end up giving a stereotyped picture of this country.

But for the little I saw, and deciding to run the risk of being superficial or stereotyped in my opinions, I have to say I liked Thailand very much.

I may biased by my stay here in Delhi, but I found Thailand clean, neat and tidy, and the Thais extremely polite, welcoming, smiling, and - perhaps unexpectedly - ironic and with a marked sense of humor!

Thailand would have probably been a very nice destination. But it won’t be Thailand, at least not for this round…

Rocks from the ocean (2)

For those who have not seen the ‘monkey’ in the previous post.

And for those who are interested in looking at more rocks and islands, have a look at: http://picasaweb.google.com/matteo.marchisio. And vote your favourite one!

Rocks from the ocean

Ang Thong Marine National Park. If it was for me, I would have stopped at any island, at any rock, to touch them, to take a picture of them, to climb and explore them.

This one, for instance, doesn’t it look like floating on the water?

And the one below, doesn’t it look like a monkey?

Greetings from BKK airport, on my way back to Delhi.

Paradise on earth?

After a busy week in Bangkok, I indulged myself a - to use the UN jargon - RR week-end (rest & recover). Destination: the Ang Thong Marine National Park, an archipelago of 42 tiny limestone islands that suddenly pop up from the ocean.

While zigzagging through them I was trying to recollect and rank the most beautiful places where I have been in my life. While couldn’t come up with a final ranking, I would certainly include Ang Thong among them.

And you, what is/are the most beautiful place/s where you have been?

La ville de Nathan Never

Bangkok. Une bruine drue. Grise. Chaude. Collante. Qui presque ne mouille pas, mais qui s’imprègne dans les vêtements. Dans les cheveux. Ou c'est peut-être le vapeur des kiosques de chaque coté des trottoirs. Odeur de poisson. Il se brouilla, se mélange. Gens dans la rue, ils mangent, ils marchent. Ils se bousculent. Des hommes en uniforme. Arrêtés de chaque coté. Ils observent. Et la circulation, silencieuse et ordonnée. Rouge. Vert. Rouge. Vert. Rouge.

Un grincement sur moi. Je regarde en haute. Le métro léger. La gens sur le passage clouté. Les gratte-ciels de verre et ciment. Couches qui se coupent et se superposent l’un l’autre. Et au fond le ciel violacé. Une ville verticale. À nivaux. Je baisse de nouveau le regard et j’avance. Sous ces couches. Au premier niveau.

Une jeune fille s’approche de moi. Une prostituée ? Je me sens tirer par un bras. Une vieillarde. Elle me parle. Dans que langue ? Je ne comprends pas. Je tache de m’en aller. Elle insiste. Elle grince des dents. Pourris. « Dangerous ». Je remercie, je fais une petite révérence. Je poursuis.

Moi, je suis déjà été ici dans ce lieu. Je croix. Il me semble. Je ne me rappelle pas. Peut-être dans un rêve ? Je me brouille… Je m’approche pour lire, mais les lettres prennent des formes que je ne reconnais pas. Je me tourne pour chercher une aide. Personne. Seulement de gens qui marche d'une façon désordonnée. Je continue à marcher.

Je laisse la rue principale. Je tourne a gauche et âpres a droit dans une ruelle secondaire. Les bruits de la circulation tout d’un coup s’amortissent. Quelqu’un me regarde. Je sens que quelqu’un me suive. Ca ne peut pas être un droid, je l’aurais entendu. Peut-être un mutant. Comment est possible ? Est-ce-qu’ils m’ont déjà trouvé ? Je commence à devenir nerveux. Ou est mon contact ?

Je hâte le pas et je me replonge dans la rue principale, en essayent de me perdre dans la foule. Dans la ville de Nathan Never…

La città di Nathan Never

Bangkok. Una pioggerellina fitta. Grigia. Calda. Appiccicosa. Che quasi non bagna, ma si impregna nei vestiti. Nei capelli. O forse é il vapore dei chioschi ai lati dei marciapiedi. Odore di pesce. Si confonde, si mescola. Gente per strada, mangiano, camminano. Si urtano. Degli uomini in uniforme. Fermi ai lati. Osservano. E il traffico, silenzioso e ordinato. Rosso. Verde. Rosso. Verde. Rosso.

Uno stridere sopra di me. Guardo in alto. La metropolitana leggera. La gente sui passaggi pedonali. I grattacieli di vetro e cemento. Strati che si intersecano e si sovrappongono l’un l’altro. E in fondo il cielo violaceo. Una città verticale. A livelli. Riabbasso lo sguardo e procedo. Sotto questi strati. Al primo livello.

Mi si avvicina una ragazza. Una prostituta? Mi sento tirare per un braccio. Una vecchia. Mi parla. In che lingua? Non capisco. Cerco di andarmene. Insiste. Digrigna i denti. Marci. “Dangerous”. Ringrazio, faccio un gentile inchino. Continuo.

Io in questo luogo ci sono già stato. Mi sembra. Mi pare. Non ricordo. Forse in un sogno? Adesso mi confondo… Mi avvicino per leggere, ma le lettere assumono forme che non riconosco. Mi volto come in cerca di un aiuto. Nessuno. Solo gente che cammina disordinatamente. Continuo a camminare.

Lascio la strada principale. Giro a sinistra e poi a destra in un vicolo secondario. I rumori del traffico di colpo si attutiscono. Qualcuno mi guarda. Mi sento seguito. Non un droide, l’avrei sentito. Forse un mutante. Com’è possibile? Mi hanno già trovato? Comincio a innervosirmi. Dov’é il mio contatto?

Accelero il passo e mi rituffo nella strada principale, cercando di confondermi tra la gente. Nella città di Nathan Never…

Bangkok

View from my room

Chiang Mai and the Doi Inthanon (2)

Chiang Mai and the Doi Inthanon

I had just landed in Bangkok after a sleepless night because of a snoring Indian sit just by me, that I was already on another plane, direction north, to join Arndt in Chiang Mai, the city of the 300 temples (though we visited only four of them).

Night at the ‘night market’ and Sunday at the Doi Inthanon National Park, where we reached the Doi Inthanon, Thailand’s highest peak (not less than 2,565m!), after a strenuous hike from the parking lot 50m below...

More in the next few days. Good night...

Celebrities

While Matteo is lost somewhere with Arndt in Northern Thailand (but will be back to BKK tomorrow eve), Mathilde experienced the pleasant thrill of feeling like a (B)hollywood celebrity.

While in a bar in DC, she was approached by one of the clients who, in a mix of surprise and excitement, cried: “I can’t believe it, you are one of the M&M’s! I love your Blog!!!”

What to add, besides thanking our secret fan and inviting her to keep on reading us! J

Gram Sabha

“Mr. Matthew. Have you ever attended a Gram Sabha*?” asked me the District Collector** at the end of our meeting at 6 pm.

“Ehm... no...” I shyly answered.

“Would you like to attend one?”

And before I could even think to an answer I was in the Collector’s car running in the dusk towards an unknown village in the Pali District, Rajasthan...

(It continues...)

Back from two days in Rajasthan, leaving to Bangkok tonight. Will be back next Sunday. Not sure how often I’ll be able to update our Blog in the next days; please be indulgent...

(*) Village assembly

(**) A District Collector is an officer of the Indian Administration placed at the district level in charge of handling law, taxation and revenue collection, planning permission and natural emergencies.

From Carpi to Delhi, through the boundless plains of Central Asia

For the past few days we have been giving hospitality to Cristina, a free-lance photographer who concluded here in Delhi a three-month odyssey from Italy to Delhi through the endless plains of Eastern Europe and Central Asia.

Cristina started her adventure in June and covered, mostly by train, what used to be the Northern Silk Route: Hungary, Romania, Moldova, Ukraine, Russia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan again, and Nepal - before entering in Sikkim and going up the Ganga Valley through Bihar and Uttar Pradesh up to, finally, Delhi (have a look at her blog!).

Cristina will travel back to Italy tomorrow, probably a few kilos thinner than when she left her hometown Carpi, but surely with a few ‘kilos’ more of memories and experiences (and pictures!).

Looking forward to seeing her photo-reportage of this trip!

Enrolled to the Delhi Half Marathon

Perhaps under the influence of Riccardo (‘la bestia’, great marathon runner), or charmed by the Games’ atmosphere, Toshi and I registered today for the Delhi Half Marathon.

The run will take place in about five weeks, on November 21. We accept forecasts (and bets) on our times…

Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium - from the inside

For months we saw it being assembled piece after piece, and - little by little - being completed. Always for the outside.

On Sunday we glimpsed the interior. On TV.

And today, finally, we managed to see it from the inside in person. Marco, Olga, Bernal, Roberta, the little Aldara and I went to the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium to see the finals of athletics. And - nothing to say - the stadium is indeed very nice (click here for a quick view).

To the point that we feel almost sorry in telling that a screw from one of the panels of the ceiling above us fell on our feet while we were watching the competitions. Unfortunately another piece of evidence that the works for the Commonwealth Games have been done in slapdash fashion, and while it will be a success if nothing happens during the Games, it will be a miracle if nothing collapses within three months after the end of these Games...