The world went from a decade when Muslims taking up arms got a largely sympathetic ear and a default label of ‘defenders against oppression‘ (Bosnia and Kosovo), to a decade (the noughties) when Muslims taking up arms got the most suspicious eye and default labels of ‘Islamic terrorists’ and ‘extremists‘.

Over a similar period, our neighbourhood troublemakers (NT) went from being a long-term strategic ally of the only super power, to having openly hostile relations with it. As a sign of their sinking economy, their GDP/capita went from ~50% higher than ours ($412 vs $218 in 1992¹) to 32% lower ($1007 vs $1476 in 2010).

Further, the neighbourhood troublemakers saw another democratic government thrown out and military take the reigns yet again, while J&K saw (relatively) successful elections and successive elected governments (something the NT rarely sees)

To repeat, over a period of 2 decades the instigators behind the troubles in J&K went from being a position of geo-political and economic strength to (almost) international outcasts and economic ruin. Their agents in the valley went from being considered defenders against oppression to extremist terrorists, and got banned in most countries. The valley itself went from being a violent hotspot ruled by a governor appointed by the centre running a largely police state, to a mostly peaceful state with successive democratic governments.

Seems to me like it was a damn good time² to force negotiations, from a position of strength, and get the other parties to agree to a long term solution. Unfortunately, nothing like that seems to be happening, unless we agree that the best case long term solution for India is to freeze the conflict while establishing LoC as the accepted border.

Should the government have tried for more than just peace in the valley and banning of the terrorist groups? I believe yes. I would have sure liked to have them push for more, quite a bit more. I’m sure a lot of people, on both sides of the border would’ve like them to have tried a bit more and settled the issue once and for all.

Could the government have gotten more? Unlikely. The same factors that have lead the our NT from a position of strength in early 90s to such a position of weakness today – core interests of the populace, the military, and (lately) the Islamists running counter to each other - are also the ones that prevent them from behaving like rational, reliable actors on a negotiating table. That India’s domestic opposition, while largely agreeing on outline of final desired outcome, is always looking to score political points on any moves towards settlement, rather than support the government in achieving it, acts as a dampener as well.

Should this be considered a failing of the Indian government – for not pushing through a long term resolution – or a success – for pacifying a violent valley and establishing a stable democratic process in the state as a prelude to complete peace and normalcy? I can’t answer that, I don’t have all the facts and the insider info. May be the super powers of hindsight will help us answer this question in a decade or few.

</random thoughts to be ignored>

1. Got that data from the excellent Google Public Data website here.

2. Another good time, in my opinion, was right after the Kargil conflict – India had the moral and military high ground, and international support. The military coup in NT could’ve been a dampener but, again in my opinion, it also provided an excellent opportunity to finalise terms of settlement with the real antagonists in the NT.

On the trip to Tanzania, Rags asked me some simple questions about my camera specs – its resolution and maximum zoom – that I had no clue of.

The main reason was the different way in which specs are quoted for SLR and point-and-shoot cameras. She had a point and shoot which had been sold to her with specs of 15x optical zoom and 8.1 megapixel resolution. I, on the other hand, had never thought about my SLR in those terms. All I knew was that my camera sensor had good enough resolution for all my reasonable needs, and that the zoom depended on lens I used.

I gave her that answer (mixed in some gibberish to make it sound intelligent and accurate) and left it at that. Still, somewhere in my mind the two questions had been ringing around. Bored of work this evening and looking to take a non-TV break, I went Googling  for the answers, and this is what I found.

First, the easy one. My camera, Nikon D90, has a resolution of 12.3 megapixel.

Now the more complicated bit – the zoom. Most point-and-shoot cameras mention their zoom as a multiple, say 10x. Most consumers take this to mean magnification, i.e. a 10x zoom camera will make an object look 10 times bigger than with naked eye on full zoom. The reality is a bit different.

A 10x zoom, in reality, only means that the maximum focal length of a P&S camera is 10 times the minimum focal length, and thus an object will look 10 times bigger at maximum zoom than at minimum zoom. Useful, but not quite the same. The P&S marketers publish this number because it is a fixed number for each P&S camera depending on the range of lens fixed to it.

SLRs, on the other hand, have changeable lenses, so there is no single number for any particular camera. However, each SLR lens has a X-times zoom factor based on its minimum and maximum focal length.

E.g., for my 3 lenses, it’d be:

• 50mm prime: 1x
• 18-105mm: 5.83x
• 70-300mm: 4.28x

Another way to look at it for SLRs is the potential zoom across lenses. So, with my 3 lenses, I have an available range of 18-300mm giving a zoom of 16.67x compared to 15x on Rags’ P&S  (35mm eqvt: 31-465mm, crop eqvt: 19-290mm).

Of course, changing lenses on an SLR is nowhere as easy as flicking the zoom button in a P&S, so the numbers are not strictly comparable.

Finally, if that 10x zoom is not really ‘zoom‘, what is? It’s called magnification, and it depends not only the maximum focal length of the lens being used, but also on the sensor size. Hence, even within SLRs using the same lens it can differ depending on whether the SLR uses 35mm film, a full frame sensor or a regular crop sensor.

On a 35mm film or a full frame SLR, a 50mm lens is believed to give approx the same image as human eye. So, a 50mm prime lens, like the one I have would have a magnification of 1x. But that’s on a full frame SLR. Most of the SLRs amateurs use, including my D90, have a crop sensor. That is because the image on them is a cropped version of what a similar lens and setup would give on a full frame SLR. The crop ratio is fixed – 1:1.6. So, the same 50mm lens that is 1x on a 35mm film or full frame SLR, has a magnification of 1.6x on my D90. Now that I’ve explained the basics, here are the maximum magnification percentages for my various lenses and Rags’ P&S:

• 50mm prime: ~1.6x
• 18-105mm : ~3.3x
• 70-300mm: ~9.6x
• Rags’ P&S (19-290mm): ~9.3x

There. I learned a lot today researching these small bits of info and hope the few who read this do too.

If you want better, deeper, explanations, these are the best two resources I found: Photography-On-The-Net Forum (specially Jim_T’s post on 5th Apr 2004) and the Luminous Landscape Tutorial.

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My total mileage in

• 2010 : 2,266 km / 1,409 miles
• 2011 : 3,796 km / 2,359 miles

Here’s the month-wise breakup:

Jan’11, I was just feeling the cold and being lazy. Nov & Dec were lost to walking / hiking in preparation for for the Kilimanjaro ascent (which I successfully did on 23rd Dec).

I missed my target of 3000 miles for the year by a big margin, still 2011 was a much better year for my cycling. Some of the milestones of 2011 were:

• 1^st century ride (100 kms of SJW – Windsor – Wandsworth – Back)
• 1^st first Imperial century ride (100 miles from SJW to Downham Market in Norfolk) [Both these were done on the hybrid before I bought the road bike]
• 1^st first sportive (60+ mile Bike Blenheim Palace)
• 1^st 200km+ ride (115miles of Ride Around London sportive + to/fro venues)
• 1^st ride to another city – Cambridge (Ended up doing it over a dozen times)
• 1^st ride to and up Box Hill (Another place that became a regular feature on my rides)
• The cycle vacation in Brugge & West Flanders
• The cycle vacation in Catalonia, including ride up and over Els Angels into Girona

Finally, coming to plans for 2012. They are simple (and slightly repetitive):

• 4000 miles of riding, all inclusive
• More sportives (attended only 2 this year)
• Lower HR
• Better Climbing (subjective, but important)
• 100 50mile+ rides
• LEJOG / Cycling vacation in Lake District
• Cycling vacation on the continent, preferably closer to the Alps
• Get Rags a road bike and get her riding hills with me :)

Doable? Check back at end of year.

P.S.: While I missed my year end target of 3000 miles, Steve hit it with ease, finishing the year at 3,024 miles. His target, though, was 4000 miles. Good luck to him for 2012.

A brief intro: He’s a Stoke City supporter (my interest in the gritty, little club is all his doing), a #properfootball fan (smaller the club, the better), a fellow test cricket lover (or #propercricket as he calls it – dying breed we are), lives in the Midlands and works in PR (I think).

About 6 months after I moved to London (more than an year ago), he wrote this blog post for me. I lost it immediately in the crazy mess that my inbox is, only to discover it recently while cleaning the Inbox in search of that elusive Inbox Zero goal I’d set myself for the week.

Now, that I’ve rediscovered it, and enjoyed a re-reading myself, here it is for all 2 of my readers to read and share. Starting with his intro:

Okay.

A list of what I know about India. I eagerly await what you know about England : )

If facts about India were grains of sand on a beach my knowledge is the content of a sock after a brief stroll.

What I know about India

• You woudn’t want to be an Indian cricketer if you lost to Pakistan.
• Your parents would be planning your marriage before you were ten if you were a girl, a work colleague called Anuji assured me.
• You wouldn’t want to be a regular commuter on the Bombay trains.
• You wouldn’t want to say ‘Bombay’ to someone who knows it as Mumbai.
• You wouldn’t want to be a blockage remover on the Bombay sewers. Or the Mumbai ones.
• You wouldn’t want to be an Indian soldier at the cross border ceremony with a sore foot (there’s lots of stamping of feet.)
• You’d love to see the sunset over the Gangees.
• You’d love to drink Darjeeling in Darjeeling.
• You’d love to while away a long train journey on an engine made in Stockton in 1883.
• You’d be appaled at the squalor.
• You wouldn’t want to sell goods on a train without a licence.
• You wouldn’t want to hear my mate Steve from Northumberland tell the beggars to ‘go away’ when he was in India travelling.
• You’d be in last chance saloon if you were an English lady who failed to find a husband on a visit to pre-war India.
• You wouldn’t want to mess with a Sikh.
• You wouldn’t want to mess with a Sikh with a gun.
• You wouldn’t want to mess with a Sikh with or without a gun over the issue of the Amritsar massacre.
• You’d be part of a vast army if you were an Indian graduate.
• You’d have to learn about Eastenders if you worked in a calls centre.
• You could have met my Grandpa who had just marched 1,000 miles through Burma if you were in Imphal in 1941.
• You’d have to have been a crushing snob and mildly racist to have been an Englishman serving as a policeman in pre-Independence India.
• You’d like to think if you were a Lancashire cotton worker you would have understood why Ghandi span his own cotton.
• You’d be amazed at how few Stoke City fans there really are.
• You’d be amazed at how good the curry is.
• You’d be amazed that when English wicketkeeper toured India he took a suitcase of baked beans with him.
• You’d love ‘Staying On’ by Paul Scott if you love India-set love stories about a couple who stayed on after Independence.
• You’d love Bollywood films if you like dancing and singing.
• You’d hate it if you didn’t like heat.
• You’d love it if you’d like to experience different things.
• You’d be amazed at the religions that stem from there.
• You’d be amazed at how many soldiers fought for Britain in the last two wars.
• You’d be ashamed if you knew how many were treated.
• You wonder if it is the weather that brings Indians to Britain.
• You’d be amazed at how Indians love cricket.
• You’d be amazed at where Indians play cricket.
• You’d wonder at how little I know of India and that what I know has come from books, cinema and telly.
• And you’d not be surprised the furthest East I’ve been in the world is Switzerland.

P.S.: I’ve not shared his full name or linked to his profile because I’m not sure if he wants me to. Shall do so after checking with him :)

Lyrics:

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But it’s home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I’m the only one and I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk a-

My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow hearts the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me
‘Til then I walk alone

Ah-Ah Ah-Ah Ah-Ah Ahhh-Ah
Ah-Ah Ah-Ah Ah-Ah

I’m walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line of the edge
And where I walk alone

Read between the lines of what’s
Fucked up and everything’s all right
Check my vital signs to know I’m still alive
And I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk a-

My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow hearts the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me
‘Til then I’ll walk alone….

Ah-Ah Ah-Ah Ah-Ah
Ahhh-Ah Ah-Ah Ah-Ah
I walk alone
I walk a-

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I’m the only one and I walk a..

My shadows the only one that walks beside me
My shallow hearts the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me
‘Til then I’ll walk alone

[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/i-walk-alone-lyrics-green-day.html ]

(Click on the photo to see it in its full blown glory.)

Also check out the full official brochure here (~17MB PDF).

Every day in November, I’ll be walking, jogging, running or cycling at least 30 mins. 30 days with at least 30 mins of activity each.

Yes, it could become hard if the winter sets in, but then what did I buy those training rollers for, if not to cycle indoors on bad days?

Keeping myself going irrespective of the weather, day of week and social or work engagements - That’s the challenge.

I consider myself young, yet almost 40% of people on earth today were born after me :(

BBC has an interesting webpage where you put your date of birth in and it provides the population graph with your birth marked out. Some pretty sobering numbers are there, including good visualisations of:

1. Global population growth (scary slope of that graph!)
2. Country-wise growth rates and sources of growth (Immigration growth in rich countries and high birth rates in poor ones)
3. Country-wise country+gender specific life expectancy (women live longer both in India and UK)

Do try it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-15391515

1. Why was there no police or private security protecting the stage and equipment. From the video (embedded below), all I could see was a few spindly youth breaking all that equipment on stage – nothing that a dozen policemen and their canes couldn’t have controlled. More I think of it, more it sounds like someone – possibly a local politician or bureaucrat – wanted this to happen, and the police knew better than to interfere.
2. Though I’m not a big music fan, I can understand what @b50 said:
   

   If I’d spent time, money and rock love to see this, there’s only one emotion – anger.

   What I can’t understand is why a country that prides itself for 5000 years of civilisation, hasn’t evolved a better method of channelling anger than violence? For a country that exported non-violence and yoga, aren’t these bouts of violence over smallest of issues becoming bit too frequent?

3. Is the fact that violence broke out an outcome of our rotten legal system? In a functioning legal system, such an incident (last minute cancellation) would usually be countered with a class action suite, or similar. Is it that the common Indian has so little faith in the legal system that they prefer instant, violent justice rather than take the organisers to court?In fact this point works both ways. The people who broke that stage knew that the legal system is so weak that probability of them ever being prosecuted for it is remote, hence the cost of doing it so little to themselves.

Any more thoughts?

Or,

2. Try and build something, so risky it’s almost certain to fail, but guaranteed to teach a ton and satisfy the inner child.

Also,

1 will provide a certainty of regular, large income. Enough for you and your family to live comfortably.

While,

2 will provide little or no regular income, and is likely to sink all your investment in time and money. If, it’s a remote chance, it succeeds it might reap you a small fortune.

And with that, he kissed a corporate career good bye, throwing down the drain all the money and time invested in that em bee ay.

Based on the broad ‘genre’, I should be hating this song. Yet, I love it. Somehow, every time I watch it, it brings out a flood of memories and emotions, all related to home, the old country, the growing up years, the people I left behind, the stupid, simple, poor and beautiful life.

The stupid song makes me think. And the thought invariably is about the trade I’ve made – prosperity of goods & services for wealth of close, loving people.

Love the song for the memories it brings. Hate the song for flood of emotions and uncomfortable questions those memories bring.

P.S.: Thought flash – The title could equally reflect Apple fans’ feelings after today’s Apple conference :)

Brugge - Damme - Sluis - Knokke Heist - Damme - Brugge (Click above for details)

Day 2 of the trip. Day 1 of cycling.

Picked up our rented bikes and headed off on the only route that R knew about, and was comfortable with. That route was from Brugge to a nearby village called Damme, a bare 7kms one way. Like all of Flanders, the route was flat, and straight like an arrow with a canal alongside for company.

But about the route and ride in a minute. First, a word about those great looking cobblestones that form majority of inner-city roads across this part of the world. They are a pain! They may be popular with tourists, they may make the spring classics so interesting, they may slow down some crazy Clarkson-esque motorists but that doesn’t take away the fact that they are a right pain in the – Ass. Add the fact that we were riding upright seating urban bikes in which almost all the body weight is borne on the bum and you knows which part of our bodies was sore within 5 mins of the ride, every ride. I hate cobbles! Say it aloud, with me: ‘I HATE COBBLES!’

Back to the ride…

Off we go, on the long straight road to Damme

Here’s the long straight road from Brugge to Damme. The canal is on other side of the bank on right, fields as far as one can see on the left and two dots in the distance – one is Rags/@julykatrae while the other is a runner, apparently long distance one, running almost as fast as we were cycling. Frankly, this was the most boring part of day’s ride. The embankment and trees were shielding us from wind, road was flat and there was absolutely nothing to see. Almost felt like I was back in my home state back in India (except for the lack of murder-minded traffic). Thankfully, it was a small stretch.

Windmill welcoming us to Damme

Earlier in the day I’d wanted to see the wind powered mills in Brugge that all tourist maps showed. Rags wasn’t interested (and we started late), so we skipped it. You can thus imagine my joy when I saw this sight on the approach to Damme. I admit, I did go a little shutter-crazy at the sight. Little did I know that I’ll see more than a dozen of them over our rides, and about 3 times more of the modern electricity generating ones. They do put that crazy wind to good use.

Damme town centre & the usual collection of flags

Damme welcomed us with its own set of flags. From our brief stay, it seemed more like a small village than a town to me. The village square had its set of cafes, pubs and a couple of restaurants. It also had quite a bit of parking – for cars and …

Loads of cycle parking in Damme

… for bikes. Specially for bikes – loads of it. Almost one bike parking space for each house in the town :)

There was nothing special to see in Damme, and we had just had our breakfasts before leaving, so we didn’t stay long.

Looking back towards Brugge from the bridge over canal at Damme

A final look back over the canal towards Brugge and we set off to our next destination – Sluis, in Netherlands.

After Damme, we decided to get off the canal-side path and take a route through the fields. For the first couple of kms we didn’t see a soul – no walkers, no cyclists, no cars, no dogs and no cows! Then, suddenly in the distance appeared more riders on …

Riders, on horses & cycles

… horses :)

A group of half dozen majestically astride their beautiful steeds, out on a ride through the countryside. The best part was that after passing some indifferent cyclists and dour walkers earlier – these horse riders were brilliantly cheerful. Each of them smiled and ‘posed’ for my camera, and even said hello as they passed us. Brilliant folk, all of them :)

After looking down at all the cars in cities from my perch atop the bike, looking up at the horse riders was another difference I noticed. It’s a completely different street view from up there :) … must try it some time.

Once the horses had passed, we set on towards Sluis, passing through the villages of Oostkerke and Hoeke. Nothing special there – regular Belgian villages though the restaurant / tea room at Oostkerke did call itself an interesting place – “Charming Room”. Wonder what’s behind that label?

'Charming Rooms' :)

Just out of Oostkerke, I noticed this building with interestingly painted windows. Almost reminded me of government schools in Indian villages. But then it was too big, too clean and too well maintained to be an Indian government school in Belgium :P

Quaintly painted windows near Oostkerke

Belgium-Netherlands border is the oldest visa-control free border in modern Europe. After the 2nd world war, while rest of the world was busy establishing visa control and border posts, the low countries – Belgium, Netherlands and Luxembourg – decided to remove all barriers to travel and trade between them. It’d be a few years before this initial customs union was extended to form the basis of current European Union and Schengen zone.

The removal of visa controls in the region is so perfect that we didn’t even realise that we’d crossed over from Belgium to Netherlands when we reached Sluis. Needed to use Google Maps on my Nexus One to figure out the exact point on ground (a really old wooden draw bridge over the canal) where we’d crossed the border.

A cyclist-cum-pedestrian pathway runs just outside the old fortifications of Sluis, so we took the long way in – halfway around the fortifications. Good thing we did as this was the sight that greeted us:

Welcome to Sluis!

A wide street full of cyclists and pedestrians with cafes and small shops on both sides and an imposing, working windmill at one end. As I scouted for a place to lock our bikes, I noticed a beauty in the corner.

Polka dotted beauty

This was one sweet lady I just had to take a picture of :)

As if to further confirm we were in Netherlands, these beautiful clogs were displayed just across from where the bike was parked:

Just in case you had a doubt which country you were in..

Sluis is a beautiful town and seemed to be a big tourist destination. It was also the first proper town we’d stumbled upon on the day’s ride so we decided to take a long break for some refreshments and ‘sight seeing’.

Eat. Drink. Burn it all.

Well, some sights were declared off limit to me. Still, a beautiful city ;)

These folk in low country do seem to have a way of displaying their wares. For example, how would a grocery store say they sell fresh milk? Like this:

'Buy fresh milk here' in fat, black & white Dutch

The polka dotted beauty wasn’t the only one I was to feast my eyes on in Sluis. There were many more, specially the two brutes – one each for the pedal powered …

An Eddy Merckx Beauty

… and the petrol powered …

A non-pedal-powered beauty

Sluis also saw the continuation of my love affair with Tea Rooms …

The wonderful tearooms ... miss them so!

… and the beginning of a new affair – with Waffles.

Belgian Waffles, in Netherlands

Now, a few months into that continuing love affair, I can’t believe it took me so long to get started. Rags has been a fan of them from her 2003 days at INSEAD. I, somehow, never even tasted them all through my trips in Europe, stay in London and the first day in Brugge. It was finally in Sluis that I decided to dig in and have a taste. I ended up hogging more than half of it. Now a visit by me to any Dutch or Belgian establishment is incomplete without a dig into the delish waffles. That deserves a big thanks – Thank You Sluis :)

After a leisurely coffee, waffle and stroll around town, we headed off towards the coast and back into Belgium. The route out of Sluis was a pleasure – a two lane road with a wide cycle path on both sides separated from the road by a small hedge. Just the right mix of separation and visibility without adding any more concrete – loved it!

Our stay on that lovely route, though was short-lived. We soon reached Sint Anna tir Muiden, last village in Nederlands on our route, and had to take a smaller road around the village. All fine… except:

Damned cobbles again :(

Yes, I Hate Cobbles! Say again, louder this time.

Thankfully, that cobbled stretch was small – just around the village – and once we were past the village the route returned to normal metaled roads and our bum bones heaved a sigh of relief. The next destination was coastal resort twin towns of Knokke-Heist. Enroute, there were some interesting sights, e.g. ice cream factories doubling up as B&Bs …

Hazelgras, ice cream and B&B

… and a deserted child resort with colourfully dressed but stolid faced kids …

Good Kids...

… their healthy caretaker …

And their fat caretaker

… and a place for the dad’s to relax while the kids enjoyed themselves:

What dads do while kids are away playing

Once past the intersection hosting this kids park, we were in suburbs of Knokke-Heist. Our cycle path was still separated from the road but the scenery on both sides changed from farms to huge (and interestingly designed) houses with an occasional pasture in between

Soon we were passed by a club ride of a local cycling club. Now, there are plenty of cycling clubs in the UK and I occasionally encounter a club ride at Richmond Park or Box Hill. Never, though, have I seen so many riders in a ride. Nor have I ever, I think, seen so many riders riding a single make of bikes – Eddy Merckx’s EMX range.

Club Ride

Soon after reached the Knokke-Heist town center. Well, more of a city center. This was, from Belgian standards a full fledged city.

The weather was windy, sea choppy and rain imminent. So we gave up on the beach front and settled for an Italian lunch just off the sea face. While the food was passable and service ‘haughty’, the rain mixed with music from this street performer drizzling in made up for all of it.

Mixing music & pasta in Knokke-Heist

The music didn’t last long though. Soon, the rain broke with gusto and the guitarist took cover as well. A table or two flew off in the neighbouring restaurant’s outdoor seating area. A part of us was glad that the rain came when we were indoors. The other part was worried to death how were we going to cycle the 35 odd kms back to Brugge in this weather.

Another beer was ordered, cycling maps spread open to find a shorter route and google maps to locate the nearest train station with link to Brugge. Good news was Knokke Heist had a train station. Bad news was that train schedules weren’t available online so we weren’t sure if there was still a train available to go back. Better news soon emerged.

The gusty winds that had accompanied the rain also drove it away quickly. The wind stayed back, and stayed strong, but the rain was gone. We could still manage the journey home. I altered the cycling plans for rest of day – axing Zeebrugge from our route, instead routing home through the village of Ramskapelle and then Damme again.

The next section of ride back was the hardest of whole tour. Wind had really picked up and even though the average wind speed was stated as 30-35kmph, there were occasional gusts at almost twice that speed. Rags had to attend an important office call and we’d planned to reach Ramskapelle by then. Seeing her struggle in the wind, I started assisting her by gentling pushing her with one hand while using the other to keep my bike straight in the wind. The wind was howling so loudly that I didn’t even hear the car that had been driving behind us on that tiny village road. I have no idea how long the car had been behind us watching the spectacle of a fat brown man on a bike pushing a short & fat brown woman on another bike while a camera dangled from his neck. Perhaps they didn’t honk once because they were enjoying the spectacle so much!

(More likely they were regular, civilised continental folk who respect the right of cyclists to be on the road without getting honked at, shouted at and driven at.)

Anyway, soon we reached Ramskapelle and found shelter in an embankment next to a canal where Rags attended to her call.

The weather and route seemed to have taken offence at Rags attending an office call on a vacation. Because as soon as her call ended, the wind slowed down – not by much, but it did – and we came to a section of the route where we had canal embankment on one side and line of trees on the other, both slowing down the wind a notch.

The route back to Damme didn’t have much to offer except for the occasional horses grazing around.

More Dutch horses, in Belgium

Having just had lunch, there was again no reason to stop in Damme on the way back so we headed straight for Brugge and its *curses* cobbled streets.

Once in Brugge, headed straight home. Parked the bikes, clicked an obligatory self potrait …

Moi, and the rear of our rented cycles, at the B&B entrance

… and crashed on the bed. That was me crashing, btw. Rags got busy with her cleaning up, 4-5 rounds of combing hair and researching dinner options.

It was also the night of Champions League final between my team, Manchester United, and my sister’s fav team, Barcelona. Knowing that I’d be more interested in the match than food, Rags decided to postpone and ‘fine dining’ plans in favour of a place which was showing the match live. Unfortunately, neither Lonely Planet nor the local food guides suggest dining places based on whether they telecast live football. At least not in Brugge. So, it was down to the old method of walk & shop.

The trouble with the walk & shop method in a place like Brugge with a person like me is that I forget the shop, slow down the walk and instead concentrate on the photo-shot. Here’s a canal-side railing joint I found interesting:

Canal-side railing joint

… and a house with canal entrance …

Canal-side photo walk in Brugge

… and some not so interesting, like this friet kart in the market square:

The friet cart outside Markt building in Brugge

Market square had a surprise waiting for us – a local marching band comprised of the widest range of ages possible (do check more marching band photos in the gallery below). Leading the band may be a, slightly paunchy, drum major but my favourite part of the band was a cute little flag-bearer and her friends :)

After the band had marched out of Markt square, I got busy with taking a few more photos of the square with buildings lit up before we headed off in search for dinner.

Interesting bits were the cafe rows around the square:

Cafe row around the Markt

A few expensive wooden toys and some real life ones:

Finally, it was time to find dinner and a place to watch the match. Unfortunately, the pizza place with huge screens was packed and even the small chicken takeout with a screen had all of its seats taken. A bit disheartened, we nevertheless headed into the small chicken place. Soon, as some customers left, we even got a seat though its location required an un-natural craning of neck to watch the match. A little after half time, we finally got good seats right opposite the TV. Sadly, between the marching band and looking for a dining place, I’d missed Rooney’s early goal. What was left was for me to sit in that ‘good’ seat and watch Barca take another Champions League title away from my United :(

Nevertheless, there was also a good bit. The small chicken place we’d stumbled upon seemed to be run by a sports fan. On the wall next to the TV were a load of sports jerseys from cycling and football. My favourites – Tom Boonen’s signed Quickstep branded Belgian Champion’s jersey :)

Tom Boonen's signed national champion jersey

The match result may not have been pleasant but it had been a good day and those jerseys a cheering find. It was time to rest and prepare the bums for next morning’s assault of the cobblestones.

P.S.: If you plan to cycle in low countries, specially the non-road bike citizen cycling, then these signs are your best friends:

Pt. 51 in Nederland

All major (and most minor) road intersections are numbered points where you see these signs showing direction to neighbouring points. Using a cycling map, you can chart a route between any two points and just follow the numbered junctions to get there. Super easy and superbly executed. Loved it.

P.P.S.: It took me 2.5 months to complete the second entry of Brugge trip. At this rate, I wonder if I’ll complete the series by end of 2012 :/

The gallery of (rest of) images:

Over the 4 years that we’ve been together, we’ve developed a liking for certain foods from each other’s regions. I like visiting Saravana Bhavan as much as she does and she fights me for an unfairly large share of Dal Makhni, Butter Chicken and Rajmah. This love of each other’s home cuisine, however, doesn’t extend to the languages. She can barely speak half a dozen words of Punjabi (most learnt from Jab We Met which she saw 32 times) and my Tamil ends at Vannakam.

Yesterday, we got Rajmah Chawal for dinner and it was time again to fight for our shares. Being the true, original Punjabi in the house, I lay claim to all of Rajmah. Not to be beaten easily, she responded that she too is a Punjabi. Smilingly, I asked her to prove it by saying a full sentence in Punjabi¹. After mumbling a bit, she spits out … ‘que tal‘.

*burst of laughter from both of us*

After I’d stopped laughing, I told her that I’d still share half the Rajmah with her if she could tell me a close Punjabi word for ‘que tal‘. (‘Que Tal?’ is a Spanish greeting for ‘What’s up?’.)

She took a while thinking about it. I half expected her to know the word² I was looking for since that’s how I & most of my Punjabi friends meet each other, and she’s mostly around.

She thinks.

Thinks some more.

And just as I’m about to give up, she shouts out full on with excitement and in proper Punjabi accent .. ‘Kudiye!‘ (Punjabi for ‘girl’)

I fell off the chair laughing. Almost. (I’m fat so it’s not so easy to fall off. But almost did.) Both of us had a hearty laugh for a long while.

After we’d recovered from the painful, long bout of laughter, I gave her another chance. Easier this time: Just tell me a valid word in Punjabi.
She got it right this time: Puttar. But that’s mainly because I call her that a lot of times. She couldn’t give me the meaning though – kid, son, or even daughter.

That did earn her about 40% of the Rajmah though, and me a lot of entertainment :)

1. For a non-Indian, this constant use of ‘Punjabi’ might be confusing, so here’s a clarification: The word is used both for people from Punjab as well as their lingua franca. Much in the same way as people from England are ‘English’ as is their language ;)

2. The word I was looking for was Kiddan, meaning broadly, ‘How are you?’ but used in similar occasions as Que Tal.