Punjabi in England – Planes, Trains, No Automobiles in London

I know you've probably forgotten everything I've written so far about this fateful tryst with destiny, the trip to London, England, fraught as it was with the aggregation of aggravations and the curious concatenation of circumstances that led to the very stormy emotions running through my sugar soaked veins. That was a longish sentence. This one is short. If you wish to read the England Chronicles so far, go ahead and try the links below The Romance…

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22 years an Immigrant

It's actually, 19 years a Canuck. But then, 22 rolls off the tongue smoothly and has so many possibilities. You can say two two twennytoo one score and two ( or 2) 2 times 10 plus 2 ( if mathematically inclined) Now then, what the hell am I talking about? I answer that question by asking you a question. "Have you read the following articles?" "Which ones", you ask, warily. "Oh just these. Here you are." The…

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Punjabi in Paris – Lazy Le Mans

Ok, at the outset, I must explain that it is I who was ( and is ) lazy, not the city of Le Mans. How lazy? Well, consider that I made this trip in 2014 in the month of June. Consider also, that I am writing this sentence in July 2018. Yes, you got your maths write, I mean right! Two Score and Eight months ago, I visited the little hamlet of Le Mans. This was our…

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Zero to Six in Five and a Bit Minutes.

You already know that I was born. "Well, duh!", you say, "how else would you be writing this rubbish?" Yes, your head is screwed on right and all those wires and things are mostly connected right. However, the mere fact that you're still continuing to read this means that all is not well. I mean, come on, would any right thinking person actually read this? They would? You insist you're completely sane and normal? Well, you'd say…

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Tarun and Kavita

When Tarun announced he was getting married, we were living in Lake Gardens, in the flat made famous by The Cantankerous Cat. This was the ground floor apartment where we dealt with Nosy Neighbours, Peeping Toms and performed Midnight Cooking Rituals to the consternation of our neighbours. Yes, that one. Tarun was in school with me. Then Tarun was in college with me. He wasn't what you would call a high-jinker. Nicknamed "Jaws", after Richard Kiel's iconic…

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Immigrant Tales – Arrival

This was my second ( or third, if you include the Nepal adventure ) foreign trip and I had much on my mind. This was my second trip to North America and the first hadn't exactly been a carefree and joyous one, if you remember. I don't think it is easy to describe the wealth of feeling and emotion an immigrant carries with him ( or her, if faux feminist). While the earlier trips were temporary excursions,…

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Immigrant Tales – Departure

Actually, the notes are not early. They're late. Late by about 19 years now, will be exactly 19 years late on the 2nd of June 2016. Yes, you are very correct in your maths. I arrived in the great country of Canada on the 2nd of June, 1997. ( Sorry. I wrote this when the post was titled "Early Notes". I forgot to edit this. I saw it later and felt obliged to offer some explanation and not…

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Immigrant Tales – Alien food

I think you all know by now, or should, that I moved countries. In fact, I moved continents. Not physically, no. No, not literally! That's impossible! I moved myself from one continent to the other nearly 2 decades ago. Whew! I'm glad we got that sorted out. Well, I had a request to write about that experience. Specifically, the issues faced by immigrants in a foreign land. Food wise. For immigrants, read 'aliens'. Never one to miss…

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Punjabi in Paris – Day 5 – Vast Versailles

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Imagine you’re a peasant looking desperately for bread, or at worst, cake. You pass by this gate. Would you or would you not mutter darkly under your breath?

So here we go again. Another travelogue. This time to a hunting cottage of the Kings of France. Now if you’re thinking about a run down, ramshackle wooden cabin in the woods, remember:

  1. This is France
  2. It had a Revolution ( The Revolution ) yup! Capital T, Capital R. Long before the Ruskies, the French showed the world how it was done. In spectacular fashion. “Here your Majesty, if you please. Step up right here. Now, sire, put your head here, like so… Oui, Oui. Allez, Monsieur Bourreau!
  3. Among the reasons for The Rev was royal excess.
Gold topped lodge
Gold topped lodge – I think this is the side entrance….. yeah!

Right! Stage set, then. Off we went, (more…)

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Punjabi in Paris – Walking Woes

The Seine below us
The Seine below us

I’d known about the walking bit. In fact, I’d gone out of my way to buy some comfortable walking shoes. But, as the poet Burns said, the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley. It was entirely my fault and the fault of my map-reading skills. Apparently, I’d forgotten a lot in the 40 years since I was an Eagle Scout.

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Oh look! There’s that strange iron grid tower again. It’s everywhere !

Our first full day in Paris was supposed to (more…)

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