At the prodding of friends I’m contemplating on whether or not to post a photoessay, a travelogue, or some convex combination of the two. But I don’t know if I have the time and/or the energy for it.

So if you’re reading this, tune in next week – there may be some good stuff to look at.

And that’s also why I have some extra time to feed the ever-increasing belly of The Great Ganesha.

Just FYI…

Spending five weeks in India after an eight-year hiatus made me painfully aware of a neurological need to go to this place called home. Not going there for almost a decade forced some internal switches to be turned off when, for all practical purposes, they should always be turned on. All’s right with the world when they’re on. Rest assured though, they’re on now.

This trip was a hurricane. I don’t know when it hit, where it took me, how I got there, and when exactly it ended. It’s somewhat relieving that it’s over, but it was also weirdly depressing to get back here. The cold weather, nightfall in the afternoon and gloomy skies didn’t help much either.

The last time I went to Bombay, I was in my penultimate year of college here in the U.S., had no idea what I was going to be doing with my life and was basically “hanging around” in Bombay without any particular aims or objectives. Well, none worth having a written record of, at any rate.

This time, I was married, had a Ph.D. (along with a few straggling degrees), a job, the green card, and an apartment in San Francisco. I still have no idea what I’m going to be doing with my life, though. But I made a critical discovery this time. One could even say that it’s earth-shattering. I learned that if you’re married, the relatives don’t seem to care about anything else. They’re too busy grilling the wife on her family structure, her background, the last ten year’s electricity bills to prove residency in Bombay, etc. etc. In the meantime, you can eat the good food, smile at all the appropriate moments, agree with everything she’s saying and you’ll get away scot-free. Amazing.

Guys, I’m telling you, you could be an alcoholic philanderer and they wouldn’t give a damn. Which then leads me to question the entire reason for wanting to contribute to society in the first place. Why bother? Just get married, drink and sleep around. There might be some marital problems in the long-run, but you know, you can always get a divorce in the US and then go back and tell all your relatives that your wife was an alcoholic philanderer, while eating their good food. Then get married again, and repeat the cycle. I’m just saying, this is something to consider – especially for all you single guys.

But I digress. Ponzi schemes to eat good food notwithstanding, with all of the socializing, there was no time or energy to blog (hence the silence). Now, after recovering from the jet lag and all of the other fatigue-related nonsense, I’m back. Posting shall resume with more-or-less usual frequency.

Here’s the view from my home. If you can see it through the haze, the leftmost end of the skyline in the distance is Malabar Point – where the Governor’s bungalow is.

It’s been over eight years since I was last home. That’s almost a decade, and quite a tumultuous one at that. But I am headed over to the ol’ homefront tonight, and shall be blogging all about it. So stay tuned.

Who knows? Maybe something interesting will emerge…

When I was in Seattle last week, the conference organizers were offering a cruise around the Seattle lakes and locks. I decided to check it out – take a breather from the conference chaos, and heave a sigh of relief after my talk.

At first, I thought “locks” was a mis-spelling of “lochs,” but it’s not. The Hiram M. Chittenden locks are actually a feat of maritime engineering. Being the lazy guy that I am, I’ll just let Wikepedia do the explaining:

The locks and associated facilities serve three purposes:

• To maintain the water level of the fresh water Lake Washington and Lake Union at 20–22 feet above sea level^[2][3] (Puget Sound‘s mean low tide).^{[citation needed]}
• To prevent the mixing of sea water from Puget Sound with the fresh water of the lakes (saltwater intrusion).^[5]
• To move boats from the water level of the lakes to the water level of Puget Sound, and vice versa.^[6] [link]
  

We started on Lake Washington on an unusually sunny day.

I only had my cell phone with me, so I apologize in advance for the small sizes, the consistent wide angles and the occasional graininess.

We went past some houseboats in front of the George Washington Memorial bridge (not to be confused with the George Washington Bridge), before going under the bridge itself.

We also sailed past a past-century oil refinery which has since been cleaned up, aestheticized by a local artist and made into a park by the government.

Did you know that if you want a bridge to be raised in Seattle, you have to give an hour’s notice? Here’s the number to call (fortunately, we squeaked through below it).

And then we were headed to the famous locks.

I noticed an interesting apparatus on the way. Have no idea what it is or does, other than the fact that it was huge (see the street-lamp to its right for comparison).

Here are a couple of shots of the locks, from the Lake Washington side, looking on to Puget Sound.

Just before we entered the Sound, there were two locals intently watching the entire crossing process.

The post-lock panorama was pretty.

We saw Mt. Rainier in the distance.

And a suburb of Seattle called Magnolia, which has no such trees (but apparently they’re working on it).

We started to see downtown in the panorama (Rainier’s to the right, a bit of Magnolia to the extreme left).

This little guy seemed more interested in me, than in the view…

Ultimately, it got too cold and windy to stay upstairs, so we went downstairs into the cabin, and got the final shot of Seattle’s downtown (with the Space Needle in the left-middle window, if you can make it out).

And then we trundled back to the conference center for more of the chaos and a helluva long day.

Anyway, just so you know – we’re hip now, because we no longer live in the boonies. See?

That’s right. We’re in the Mission, baby! Only blocks away from Pancho Villa, Delfina’s, Buy Rite Creamery, Ritual Coffee…

Ok, I got to go. All this typing about area restaurants is making me hungry! Seattle pics will be posted in a day or two…

Well, folks, we did it! 26.2 miles! My second marathon, the wife’s first. Here’s our route, freshly uploaded from the GPS into Google Earth.

Temperatures were in the low 60s with fog, which made it perfect for me and perfect for running. In fact, it was so foggy, I couldn’t see further than 100 feet ahead when we were running across the bridge. The marathon was organized extremely well, with aid stations approximately every 2.5 miles, serving Ctyomax as electrolyte (which was excellent in taste and re-hydration) as well as water. There weren’t as many spectators as New York, but the ones that were there were genuine and enthusiastic. A great experience overall. If only I could say the same for my quads, at this point.

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Not sure if we’ll finish in the allotted time – there have been quite a few setbacks, especially in the last couple of months of training. Coincidentally, these months are also the most crucial. Nonetheless, we’ve registered, so it’s a go.

Come out and cheer. I’ll be the one with the elephant-head and pot-belly. Well ok, just the pot-belly. Although I do have big ears, and I am nosey…

We had quite a scare last week, when it was sunny and hot. I thought the heat would never end. I could actually walk outside in shorts for extended periods of time. We had to open all the windows in our apartment, it was so hot. I got tan lines from running outside, dammit! Since when did San Francisco become L.A.? What’s next, an epidemic of breast implants?

When I first got to Wisconsin from sunny Bombay many years ago, I missed the sun and the warmth during those nine-month-long, subzero-wind-chill Wisconsin winters. Now having lived here in San Francisco for the past year or so, the sun has begun to annoy me. I mean, I still respect photosynthesis and all, but do we really have to see it in action? When the sun comes out, it forces everyone to be cheery, and I hate to break it to you, but I don’t want to be happy. I like it cold and foggy. Please donate my Prozac ration to someone who needs it.

I figure that the reason I like this weather so much is the subliminal coercing from the British Raj days. You know, when they tried to hypnotize every Indian into liking British weather. I guess it skipped a generation (or two) and worked on me. Just something to think about.

Anyway, all I have to say is: I’m looking forward to the rest of the week.

And oh yeah, if you’re planning on visiting, remember to bring a sweatshirt.