The Heights of Manhattan

The name Manhattan is a Native American word that translates to ‘island of many hills’. To most visitors though, and to those few residents who’ve never had opportunity to use the GW bridge, the island of Manhattan is perceived as flat! No fault of theirs really – the city’s urban development in the early 19th-century ensured that much of the island’s topographical variations were evened out.

Washington Heights and Inwood, the northernmost neighbourhoods on the island, are remnants of that undulation, and little known ones at that. A stroll or bike ride through them reveals not only what the island would have looked like pre-development, but also many a hidden treasure. Towards the end of summer this year, I set out to find out just that!

11 miles after leaving my house on a warm Sunday morning, I made my first stop at 156th & Broadway. There, occupying a full city block sits Audobon Terrace, a complex of eight early 20th-century Beaux Arts buildings, named after John James Audobon, a French-American ornithologist, on who’s land the structures stand.

Everything but the Canyon!

As we taxi towards our gate, the flight attendant announces, ‘in an effort to keep the cabin cool, we request all our passengers to please lower their window blinds and keep their vents in the open position’. It is a most unusual request, certainly one that I have never heard before, but given that it is 114F or 45.5C in Phoenix at the moment, it probably makes sense! As I begin to lower my window blind, I scan the scene outside – no surprises here – there isn’t a soul to be seen anywhere on the tarmac!

Dobrý den Praha!

Our flight out of Gatwick can best be described as ‘wildly turbulent’ – the kind where the Captain asks the flight attendants to take their seats, mid flight! So it is with some relief that we are back on terra firma at Ruzyne International.

The centre of Prague, though not far from Ruzyne, isn’t particularly well connected to the airport, as European capitals go! A combination of Bus + Tram / Metro usually does the trick but since we had a 6 AM flight out of London, we make our way to the taxi rank – definitely the quickest, but also the most overpriced way of getting downtown!

We check in to the very conveniently located Hotel Astoria, drop off our bags and make our way out to the Old Town or staré Město. The sky is overcast and the forecast for the next few days’ calls for equally gloomy weather, with more than a chance of rain! Perfect timing, I think to myself!

Minutes later, as if a switch has been turned on, the gloom vanishes from my face only to be replaced by a wide smirk! I am facing Staroměstské náměstí (Old Town Square), possibly one of the most charming city squares I have ever laid my eyes on. At the centre of it performs a choir; several stunning old buildings surround the plaza, and the aroma of Czech Country Ham fills the air! It’s good to finally be in Prague

ALCOs day out!

There are fans and then there are rail fans! There are rail fans and then there are specialist rail fans!! Meet Jon and Vic – the ALCO fans!  Although based out of the UK, they travel the world to seek out and chase (in rail fan speak) the last of the operational ALCOs. India remains a stronghold of ALCO diesel locomotives, and expectedly so, is big on their list. That’s also how I happen to know them!

ALCO expands to American Locomotive Company. Founded in 1901 in Schenectady NY, it built steam and diesel locomotives till production ended in ’69. If you happen to come across an ALCO lover however, chances are they’ll be fans of the company’s diesels, more than anything else!

On a pleasant June morning in south eastern Pennsylvania, we join them on the ‘Lansdale Day Special’.  It’s been about an hour since we left the town of West Chester and everything appears calm on board till we grind to a halt for an impromptu photo stop! The fans scramble, get into position track side and click away to their hearts content! There’s no mistaking the scene – this is a true ALCO fan trip

Train to the Lore of the Coast

My NRI friends insist that 200 Rupees is peanuts for a coolie (porter). I remind them gently that the cost of a ticket for the 451 km journey is only 116! They finally concede, and the economist amongst them concludes – the railways have clearly not kept up with inflation!

It is 7:30 AM at Yesvantpur Junction, a satellite rail terminus in a namesake Bangalore suburb, and we are about to board train #6515 to Mangalore, some 10 hours away, in second class ordinary accommodation! Not long ago, I had fetched my NRI friends from the very posh Taj West End hotel, where they had stayed the night, on arrival from Egypt the previous day!

NRI = Non Resident Indians, and at the risk of inviting the wrath of many a reader, I shall desist from using that term here forth

There’s a nip in the air as we make our way out of Bangalore, and once clear of its industrial burbs, cleaner air, distinctly better views and the promise of a spectacular journey await!

Timeless in Kesroli

It’s taken us a whole lot longer to get here than it did 3 years ago – a combination of crater-studded roads, diversions, losing our way on multiple occasions, and if that weren’t enough, a part of our convoy being held up by the ongoing Gujjar agitation! A little over 4 hours after leaving home, we finally arrive at our destination – to a warm welcome, amidst familiar surroundings – good ‘ol Kesroli!!

Spring in Santiago!

For all the running around they put me through at their Embassy in New York, the Chileans more them redeemed themselves at Santiago International! While American and Canadian passport holders had to slug it out in a serpentine queue at immigration, I simply walked into an empty counter that said ‘Others’, got my passport stamped, and was on my way in no time, leaving behind the more ‘privileged’ lot, and having the last laugh while doing so

This was my third foray into South America, and just like the last two, a rather brief one at that! There were several reasons to justify such a ridiculously short trip – I had very limited vacation days left; I’d managed to get a steal of a fare (details of which are best left out ); my friend Lino was going to be there at the same time; and last but not the least, it was spring in the Southern hemisphere!

The trip was short for sure but the sights, sounds, tastes and smells that I experienced over those three days were as rich and varied as I’ve come to expect of this amazing continent. Spanning a sleepy little town, a historic port city, and of course, the capital, Santiago, here are 10 highlights from my trip, narrated as they happened.

#1. The road to Limache. Like most other countries in South America, Chile too, sadly, shrugged off its passenger rail network over the last few decades. Instead, they replaced it with a super-efficient bus system serving every nook and cranny of their rather lengthy country. Turbus and Pullman were products of this development, and are today the largest nationwide bus companies. From the Pullman terminal in Central Santiago, we set off for Limache, some 100 km and 2 hours away, over the Andean foothills.

Fall on the Broad Top!

For those of you who’ve followed my blog, it’s been a little over two months since I visited Portland, ME. But my pursuit for ‘Narrow Gauge happiness‘ didn’t quite end there! I persist late into the year and head south this time, to the state of Pennsylvania.

Huntingdon, PA, where we’ll stay for the night, is about 60 miles closer to NYC than Portland, ME is. Thankfully, my journey there is a lot less complicated too! And there’s good reason why I’ve waited this long to get my fix again – to experience it during the Northeast spectacle that is Fall!

Summer’s last hurrah!

It is the first Saturday of October and we have just departed the town of Patchogue, aboard the 10:20 for Watch Hill. A dozen boy scouts, their caretakers, the four of us, and a couple of other hikers are all that make up the ferry’s roster this morning – an unusually low number given how stunning the day has turned out to be! As we make our way across Great South Bay, we remind ourselves how fortunate we are to be making this trip  ‘off season’

It’s been over a decade since I camped outdoors – in other words, way too long! Back in the day, as I shall refer to it, camping was invariably part of a trek, either in the Sahyadris (closer to Bombay) or in the loftier Himalayas.  Needless to say, I enjoyed both those activities immensely!

Despite several efforts over the past couple of years, the closest I’ve gotten to camping in this country has been ‘cabining‘, or staying in a log cabin in the woods! I know, it doesn’t quite count! So, just like I had been earlier this year – hell bent on skiing – I was determined to go camping, before the cooler weather descended on us.

Where aviators soared high

The New York metro area is served by no less than 3 major airports, together contributing a staggering 3300 flights to its airspace, each day! While Newark is in neighbouring New Jersey, both LaGuardia and JFK are located in the city’s largest borough, Queens. But little known to the hundreds of thousands of daily fliers, and to a majority of New Yorkers, is the fact that the city’s first airport was in fact in Brooklyn!

In the days when flights were few and far between, when passengers walked freely onto the tarmac to board their planes, and when security procedures -  as we know them today – were non existent, ‘Building 1′ was sufficient enough to house the passenger terminal, airline offices and air traffic control for Floyd Bennett Field!