I just read in today's newspaper that George W Bush recently had a slime-mould beetle named after him. Boy! What a popular guy! He's now rampaging the insect world.
The Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi apparently sent Goran Persson, his Swedish counterpart 24 bottles of wine because the latter was so aghast at the thought of drinking British wine which Tony Blair offered when he hosted the European Union Summit in Brussels - this must surely rank as diplomacy at its best. The last thing the world needs right now is to go to war over wines.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
THE DANCE OF THE MUSES
They gallop away like a frenzied mare
That can't be tamed or saddled
Emotional tornadoes in no one's care
Why should a deceitful mind be cradled?
I once saw a fairy with her magic wand
Which she waved and the world wore a smile
Even the ducks were laughing in the pond
And they could be heard for a mile
'Oh, Fairy!' I cried, 'take me with you to the land of peace
Take my heart in your beautiful hands
Make me as happy as those laughing geese
Whose tornadoes are banished from their heartlands.'
She turned on me and horror crossed her face
With a wave of her wand, she was a witch
In a frenzy, she tore at her beautiful lace
She ripped it stitch by beautiful stitch
'You cursed beast,' she shrieked, 'your decaying soul has cast a rotten spell
That has turned my beauty into ugliness
The tornado that has seized your soul and broken its shell
Should be killed or you'll never know happiness.'
Gales swept the world and the geese were sad
And the Fairy's wand lay broken
The birds were dying, the animals went mad
Mournful cries were heard, no words were spoken
I ran away and sat by the stream feeling very wicked and powerful
Suddenly the nightmare became a dream
The howls were music even if they were mournful
'Satan's on his throne,' I chirped, 'and all's well with the world
The birds and beasts are just like me.'
My eyes gleamed and in a smirk my lips were curled
The cause of their misery I was happy to be
I heard the tinkle of laughter that sounded like silver bells
I saw the Dance of the Muses in a silver glow
I wondered if they could break cursed spells
Or if more misery would follow
I stood mesmerized by the dance and the birds began to sing
The animals were silenced as silver stars rained
And little silver bells began to ring
The wind became quiet as if suddenly chained.
Whiteness washed over me and such peace I had never known
That I fell on my knees and wept my tears
As the beautiful silver light shone
The tornado was crushed and so were my fears...
The Fairies now laughed and danced and the animals joined them too
The sun smiled broadly, the birds continued their song, and the sky turned a deeper blue
Now, I felt less powerful but more strong.
That can't be tamed or saddled
Emotional tornadoes in no one's care
Why should a deceitful mind be cradled?
I once saw a fairy with her magic wand
Which she waved and the world wore a smile
Even the ducks were laughing in the pond
And they could be heard for a mile
'Oh, Fairy!' I cried, 'take me with you to the land of peace
Take my heart in your beautiful hands
Make me as happy as those laughing geese
Whose tornadoes are banished from their heartlands.'
She turned on me and horror crossed her face
With a wave of her wand, she was a witch
In a frenzy, she tore at her beautiful lace
She ripped it stitch by beautiful stitch
'You cursed beast,' she shrieked, 'your decaying soul has cast a rotten spell
That has turned my beauty into ugliness
The tornado that has seized your soul and broken its shell
Should be killed or you'll never know happiness.'
Gales swept the world and the geese were sad
And the Fairy's wand lay broken
The birds were dying, the animals went mad
Mournful cries were heard, no words were spoken
I ran away and sat by the stream feeling very wicked and powerful
Suddenly the nightmare became a dream
The howls were music even if they were mournful
'Satan's on his throne,' I chirped, 'and all's well with the world
The birds and beasts are just like me.'
My eyes gleamed and in a smirk my lips were curled
The cause of their misery I was happy to be
I heard the tinkle of laughter that sounded like silver bells
I saw the Dance of the Muses in a silver glow
I wondered if they could break cursed spells
Or if more misery would follow
I stood mesmerized by the dance and the birds began to sing
The animals were silenced as silver stars rained
And little silver bells began to ring
The wind became quiet as if suddenly chained.
Whiteness washed over me and such peace I had never known
That I fell on my knees and wept my tears
As the beautiful silver light shone
The tornado was crushed and so were my fears...
The Fairies now laughed and danced and the animals joined them too
The sun smiled broadly, the birds continued their song, and the sky turned a deeper blue
Now, I felt less powerful but more strong.
WELCOME TO BANGALORE!
This was written in 1989 - I'm putting it up here because it's more relevant than ever today!
Traffic jam on the pavement
Ditches center, left, and right
Your eyes bulge in amazement
To me, it's a common sight
A whistle in the air
It's the invisible cop
He's made himself a chair
On a car top
The cow glared
The yuppie swore
You no longer cared
There couldn't be much more
Don't lose heart
In this city many adore
Survival is an art
Welcome to Bangalore!
Traffic jam on the pavement
Ditches center, left, and right
Your eyes bulge in amazement
To me, it's a common sight
A whistle in the air
It's the invisible cop
He's made himself a chair
On a car top
The cow glared
The yuppie swore
You no longer cared
There couldn't be much more
Don't lose heart
In this city many adore
Survival is an art
Welcome to Bangalore!
ZAPPED!
Daniel: "I found this one, she's really good
She's kind, she's caring, she's never rude
You must meet her, she's the new girl in my life
She's really different and better looking than my ex-wife!"
Emmanuel: "Oh! C'mon Daniel, not again
I've heard all this many times, all in vain
Relax a while, you try too hard
And that's why you never play the right card."
Daniel: "She's got long copper hair, huge black eyes
She's so gentle, she wouldn't even scare the mice."
Daniel was so smitten, Emmanuel just had to see
Who his friend's new girl could be
Off they went to Daniel's place
Emmanuel, eager to get a peek at her face.
When they reached, said Emmanuel
"Where's she? Don't see her Daniel."
Pointing to the garden, said Daniel,
"There she is, my new female Cocker Spaniel!"
She's kind, she's caring, she's never rude
You must meet her, she's the new girl in my life
She's really different and better looking than my ex-wife!"
Emmanuel: "Oh! C'mon Daniel, not again
I've heard all this many times, all in vain
Relax a while, you try too hard
And that's why you never play the right card."
Daniel: "She's got long copper hair, huge black eyes
She's so gentle, she wouldn't even scare the mice."
Daniel was so smitten, Emmanuel just had to see
Who his friend's new girl could be
Off they went to Daniel's place
Emmanuel, eager to get a peek at her face.
When they reached, said Emmanuel
"Where's she? Don't see her Daniel."
Pointing to the garden, said Daniel,
"There she is, my new female Cocker Spaniel!"
Monday, December 19, 2005
Medical Transcription - the 'empty' world
YOU ARE KING!
To be good at medical transcription, you must have a clear understanding about the roles of all involved players.
First of all, there's you. Forget the customer, YOU are King. Do not underestimate your powers. You have the power, for instance, to determine whether 52-year-old John Smith, the Caucasian male who came in for a hernia repair, leaves the hospital with name, age, gender, and race intact.....or if he even leaves, alive. He could be dead in YOUR hands before the doctor even gets to him. So, you, dear MT, are not just King - you're GOD.
Then, there's the doctor; more specifically, the BAD dictator. Bad doctors are an occupational hazard. Take them in your stride. Like everybody else who ever comes into your life, bad dictators too teach you something about yourself you didn't know....like, you're perfectly capable of having multiple homicidal ideations in a single 8-hour shift, but you don't act on them: You're great at resisting temptation ! You know a lot more adjectives than you think. You believe in prayer power. You can be really nasty and reject this report right now....ok, not that...so, moral of story: DO NOT Find Job.....job will find you (do not worry).
And THEN, there's the insurance company. If you want to worry, worry about these guys because if you miss the 'r' in John Smith's hernia, these wicked guys won't pay his "henia" bill which will ensure that you get ANOTHER dictation (by the SAME bad doctor) tomorrow (on the SAME patient) for a myocardial infarction - which is what John Smith will have when he takes a look at his "henia" bill - and please, you don't go and miss the 'r' again in his infarction.
Then, there's AAMT, the Boss - or BOS for short. Be mildly concerned about the AAMT. They will wake up every once in a while and tell you what hyphens to drop and what Romans to convert to Arabic (I'm talking about numerals, silly).
Contrary to what everyone will tell you, the patient should be the least of your concerns. I mean, c'mon, John Smith is not my rich uncle. Why should I care? Does he care that we get up at 4:30 a.m. to rush here and sit in front of our system and go to sleep while pop-ups fly around saying, "Link please", "where's the link?" "Link??", "LINK!!!!" and other such urgent messages? Not only does not NOT care, he lies there 10,000 miles away and offloads HIS problems on YOU. He's the most selfish player here, so please, just ignore him.
So now for Moral of Story: To be a good MT, the only thinkg that you need to be really concerned about is, when's your next weekly off.
~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST - with apologies of Oscar Wilde
First of all, if you haven't read "The Improtance of Being Ernest", do so immediately. It answers Shakespeare's eternal question "What's in a name?" and poses one of its own "What's not?"
Now, on to more pressing matters. Every single letter in a medical transcript is important. Sometimes, a wrong letter can can mean the difference between life and death. Here's an example: How many times do you type the word 'diet' in your report? And in how many combinations? Healthy diet, advanced diet, regular diet, clear liquid diet, pureed diet. Suppose you dropped the 't'?...or you substituted 'd' for it...wouldn't that make a huge difference? It may be one small 't' for you, but it's one giant leap (into the next world) for the patient. See what I mean about a life and death difference?
Healthy died - a technical impossibility.
Advanced died - second stage of death?
Regular died - I suppose we can live with this one (no pun).
Clear liquid died - death by drowning?
Pureed died - don't even go there.
If you're still not convinced, try this one for size. This example is not strictly medical though it might qualify under psychiatry: After months of American occupation of Iraq, President Bush recently said that they now that it was IRAN all along that had ties wtih Al-Qaeeda and not IRAQ. Wow! So now, there's a real possibility, like Jay Leno said, that "Bush bombed the wrong country because of a typo." So, take car when your tping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
YOUR FAVOURITE DOCTORS
The Good Doctor: Starts with Hello or Good Morning. Says Please and Thank you a lot (“can you please change this? Thank you”, “can you please strike that out? Thank you”, “can you please cancel this dictation after typing 6 pages for half an hour? Sorry, thank you very much”). If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he makes sure he spells it out. Ends with “Have a nice day.”
The Bad Doctor: Starts with a yawning Good Morning and ends with a yawning something-you-don’t-understand. In between, he sleeps. If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he manages to make it sound like ‘Spiderman.’ Tries to help by spelling ‘muscle’…and spells it wrong.
The Ugly Doctor: Starts with a growl and warns you his reports are verbatim. There’s a slight problem with that: he doesn’t know grammar, and he misspells everything but keeps warning you not to meddle with his report. Dictates hair-raising drug dosages and lab values that could only fit an ape. “Just you try and change that,” he warns you.
The On-call Doctor: He’s covering for someone else and like all people who cover for someone else, he’d much rather be somewhere else. His favourite phrases are “I’m not sure,” and “I think, maybe”. Starts with “I’m Dr…uh…err…Dr…Dr…Dr…” he struggles to get his name out and you wonder if he could possibly have forgotten his own name.
The Confused Doctor: Starts with a cheerful “Good Morning” and then turns to someone and asks, “it IS morning, isn’t it?” Dates the visit in the 20th century and tells you midway that it’s the date of birth (giggles). Switches merrily between “he” and “she”, “left” and “right”, and “hand” and “foot” throughout. Turns to someone and asks (at the end), “Am I in the right place?”
The Whispering Doctor: He sits on a highway with 18-wheeler trucks roaring past and whispers. In addition, he sounds like someone is holding his head under water, and by the time you finish transcribing the report, you desperately wish you could have that honour. Says “Thank you” very loudly at the end.
Dr. Wren and Martin: Uses only one preposition, “in”; one verb, “are” and 3 genders, “he”, “she”, and “it.” Remarkably grammar-free and very very happy with himself.
So, have a nice day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU...
It did to me! What you're about to read is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Doctor: "Good Morning. I want to make a change to a report that I dictated in 1995. I don't have the report number and I can't remember the patient's name, obviously, (and I hope to God I'm in the right hospital), but I want to change Chief Complaint from "cat bite" to "monkey bite" and the part where I said "The patient tells me he sometimes feels very catty and has to resist the urge to lap up milk from a bowl", I want that changed to "The patient tells me he sometimes feels like a monkey and has to resist the urge to swing from trees." I want these corrections made on the original job. Find it. It must be SOMEWHERE. I repeat, DON'T SEND THIS AS AN ADDENDUM."
He practically yelled into my ears....and he sounded just like Al Capone. I was shaking like a leaf in a snowstorm. I don't know about you, but I scare very easily. This was a doctor. An American one. Probably Republican...and you know how dangerous THEY are. They're all unarmed and dangerous....except President Bush, of course, who's armed and dangerous. I sit at my workstation with a chief complaint of my own: Diaphoresis and atrial flutter. If I defy this doctor's orders, who knows, they could bomb Bangalore (they've certainly bombed other places for far sillier reasons.....like, being unable to find a reason) and I didn't want to be famous like that. And can you imagine what would happen to my US QA if they bombed us ? So I run up and down between floor one and floor four trying to find someone who knows what to do with this report. None of us are really sure, but I get plenty of opinions.
Opinion 1: Type everything verbatim and post it (and buy yourself a gun for protection).
Opinion 2: No!!! Are you nuts?? Put it in tech with a note "Veterinary Report".
Opinion 3: Do that only if you want to get sued; if you don't, delete the job.
Opinion 4: Delete it?!?! But isn't that a HIPPY violation?
Opinion 5: What is HIPPY violation?
Opinion 6 (my opinion): Open window. Jump.
Okay people, back to work...What? Oh, you want to know what I did with the report ? I rejected it. Now, turn off your autoselect and enjoy the remains of your day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~
To be good at medical transcription, you must have a clear understanding about the roles of all involved players.
First of all, there's you. Forget the customer, YOU are King. Do not underestimate your powers. You have the power, for instance, to determine whether 52-year-old John Smith, the Caucasian male who came in for a hernia repair, leaves the hospital with name, age, gender, and race intact.....or if he even leaves, alive. He could be dead in YOUR hands before the doctor even gets to him. So, you, dear MT, are not just King - you're GOD.
Then, there's the doctor; more specifically, the BAD dictator. Bad doctors are an occupational hazard. Take them in your stride. Like everybody else who ever comes into your life, bad dictators too teach you something about yourself you didn't know....like, you're perfectly capable of having multiple homicidal ideations in a single 8-hour shift, but you don't act on them: You're great at resisting temptation ! You know a lot more adjectives than you think. You believe in prayer power. You can be really nasty and reject this report right now....ok, not that...so, moral of story: DO NOT Find Job.....job will find you (do not worry).
And THEN, there's the insurance company. If you want to worry, worry about these guys because if you miss the 'r' in John Smith's hernia, these wicked guys won't pay his "henia" bill which will ensure that you get ANOTHER dictation (by the SAME bad doctor) tomorrow (on the SAME patient) for a myocardial infarction - which is what John Smith will have when he takes a look at his "henia" bill - and please, you don't go and miss the 'r' again in his infarction.
Then, there's AAMT, the Boss - or BOS for short. Be mildly concerned about the AAMT. They will wake up every once in a while and tell you what hyphens to drop and what Romans to convert to Arabic (I'm talking about numerals, silly).
Contrary to what everyone will tell you, the patient should be the least of your concerns. I mean, c'mon, John Smith is not my rich uncle. Why should I care? Does he care that we get up at 4:30 a.m. to rush here and sit in front of our system and go to sleep while pop-ups fly around saying, "Link please", "where's the link?" "Link??", "LINK!!!!" and other such urgent messages? Not only does not NOT care, he lies there 10,000 miles away and offloads HIS problems on YOU. He's the most selfish player here, so please, just ignore him.
So now for Moral of Story: To be a good MT, the only thinkg that you need to be really concerned about is, when's your next weekly off.
~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST - with apologies of Oscar Wilde
First of all, if you haven't read "The Improtance of Being Ernest", do so immediately. It answers Shakespeare's eternal question "What's in a name?" and poses one of its own "What's not?"
Now, on to more pressing matters. Every single letter in a medical transcript is important. Sometimes, a wrong letter can can mean the difference between life and death. Here's an example: How many times do you type the word 'diet' in your report? And in how many combinations? Healthy diet, advanced diet, regular diet, clear liquid diet, pureed diet. Suppose you dropped the 't'?...or you substituted 'd' for it...wouldn't that make a huge difference? It may be one small 't' for you, but it's one giant leap (into the next world) for the patient. See what I mean about a life and death difference?
Healthy died - a technical impossibility.
Advanced died - second stage of death?
Regular died - I suppose we can live with this one (no pun).
Clear liquid died - death by drowning?
Pureed died - don't even go there.
If you're still not convinced, try this one for size. This example is not strictly medical though it might qualify under psychiatry: After months of American occupation of Iraq, President Bush recently said that they now that it was IRAN all along that had ties wtih Al-Qaeeda and not IRAQ. Wow! So now, there's a real possibility, like Jay Leno said, that "Bush bombed the wrong country because of a typo." So, take car when your tping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
YOUR FAVOURITE DOCTORS
The Good Doctor: Starts with Hello or Good Morning. Says Please and Thank you a lot (“can you please change this? Thank you”, “can you please strike that out? Thank you”, “can you please cancel this dictation after typing 6 pages for half an hour? Sorry, thank you very much”). If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he makes sure he spells it out. Ends with “Have a nice day.”
The Bad Doctor: Starts with a yawning Good Morning and ends with a yawning something-you-don’t-understand. In between, he sleeps. If he ever has to say ‘sternocleidomastoid muscle,’ he manages to make it sound like ‘Spiderman.’ Tries to help by spelling ‘muscle’…and spells it wrong.
The Ugly Doctor: Starts with a growl and warns you his reports are verbatim. There’s a slight problem with that: he doesn’t know grammar, and he misspells everything but keeps warning you not to meddle with his report. Dictates hair-raising drug dosages and lab values that could only fit an ape. “Just you try and change that,” he warns you.
The On-call Doctor: He’s covering for someone else and like all people who cover for someone else, he’d much rather be somewhere else. His favourite phrases are “I’m not sure,” and “I think, maybe”. Starts with “I’m Dr…uh…err…Dr…Dr…Dr…” he struggles to get his name out and you wonder if he could possibly have forgotten his own name.
The Confused Doctor: Starts with a cheerful “Good Morning” and then turns to someone and asks, “it IS morning, isn’t it?” Dates the visit in the 20th century and tells you midway that it’s the date of birth (giggles). Switches merrily between “he” and “she”, “left” and “right”, and “hand” and “foot” throughout. Turns to someone and asks (at the end), “Am I in the right place?”
The Whispering Doctor: He sits on a highway with 18-wheeler trucks roaring past and whispers. In addition, he sounds like someone is holding his head under water, and by the time you finish transcribing the report, you desperately wish you could have that honour. Says “Thank you” very loudly at the end.
Dr. Wren and Martin: Uses only one preposition, “in”; one verb, “are” and 3 genders, “he”, “she”, and “it.” Remarkably grammar-free and very very happy with himself.
So, have a nice day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU...
It did to me! What you're about to read is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Doctor: "Good Morning. I want to make a change to a report that I dictated in 1995. I don't have the report number and I can't remember the patient's name, obviously, (and I hope to God I'm in the right hospital), but I want to change Chief Complaint from "cat bite" to "monkey bite" and the part where I said "The patient tells me he sometimes feels very catty and has to resist the urge to lap up milk from a bowl", I want that changed to "The patient tells me he sometimes feels like a monkey and has to resist the urge to swing from trees." I want these corrections made on the original job. Find it. It must be SOMEWHERE. I repeat, DON'T SEND THIS AS AN ADDENDUM."
He practically yelled into my ears....and he sounded just like Al Capone. I was shaking like a leaf in a snowstorm. I don't know about you, but I scare very easily. This was a doctor. An American one. Probably Republican...and you know how dangerous THEY are. They're all unarmed and dangerous....except President Bush, of course, who's armed and dangerous. I sit at my workstation with a chief complaint of my own: Diaphoresis and atrial flutter. If I defy this doctor's orders, who knows, they could bomb Bangalore (they've certainly bombed other places for far sillier reasons.....like, being unable to find a reason) and I didn't want to be famous like that. And can you imagine what would happen to my US QA if they bombed us ? So I run up and down between floor one and floor four trying to find someone who knows what to do with this report. None of us are really sure, but I get plenty of opinions.
Opinion 1: Type everything verbatim and post it (and buy yourself a gun for protection).
Opinion 2: No!!! Are you nuts?? Put it in tech with a note "Veterinary Report".
Opinion 3: Do that only if you want to get sued; if you don't, delete the job.
Opinion 4: Delete it?!?! But isn't that a HIPPY violation?
Opinion 5: What is HIPPY violation?
Opinion 6 (my opinion): Open window. Jump.
Okay people, back to work...What? Oh, you want to know what I did with the report ? I rejected it. Now, turn off your autoselect and enjoy the remains of your day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Miraculous Messages from Water
http://www.life-enthusiast.com/twilight/research_emoto.htm
Absolutely fascinating article on water!
Excerpt from the article on this page: "The photographs and information in this article reflect the work of Masaru Emoto, a creative and visionary Japanese researcher .......These photographs show the incredible reflections of water, as alive and highly responsive to every one of our emotions and thoughts. It is quite clear that water easily takes on the vibrations and energy of it's environment, whether toxic and polluted or naturally pristine.
Masaru Emoto's extraordinary work is an awesome display, and powerful tool, that can change our perceptions of ourselves and the world we live in, forever. We now have profound evidence that we can positively heal and transform ourselves and our planet by the thoughts we choose to think and the ways in which we put those thoughts into action."
Absolutely fascinating article on water!
Excerpt from the article on this page: "The photographs and information in this article reflect the work of Masaru Emoto, a creative and visionary Japanese researcher .......These photographs show the incredible reflections of water, as alive and highly responsive to every one of our emotions and thoughts. It is quite clear that water easily takes on the vibrations and energy of it's environment, whether toxic and polluted or naturally pristine.
Masaru Emoto's extraordinary work is an awesome display, and powerful tool, that can change our perceptions of ourselves and the world we live in, forever. We now have profound evidence that we can positively heal and transform ourselves and our planet by the thoughts we choose to think and the ways in which we put those thoughts into action."
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Quote
To see a World in a grain of sand
And a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold Infinity in the plam of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
- William Blake
And a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold Infinity in the plam of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
- William Blake
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Cyprus Diary - April 2002
The plane angles sharply in descent. The blue sea seems to leap at your porthole. The beauty of the gleaming Mediterranean takes your breath away. You couldn't hope for a better welcome.
Cyprus is a Mediterranean Island. It's called the Island of Venus, Island of the Sun, Island of Aphrodite, hundreds of names really but nothing does justice to this charming place. Locally, it's called Kypru. The population is about 700,000 (less than Bangalore!) It's history is complicated and interesting but it's most recent influences have been Turkish, British, and of course Greek. It's been colonised just like us, and everyone speaks English. The people are warm and friendly and very interested in India. Cyprus is located in a commercial hotspot - a Mediterranean port close to 3 continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe but they don't export much....mainly oranges. They import everything from everywhere.
Where we stayed was Nicosia, the capital city, locally known as Lefkosia. It's perfect to a fault, very picturesque, very neat and tidy, very laid back, and very very safe. The best way to see the city is by foot (I suppose that's the best way to see any place). Nicosia is the last divided capital city in the world. My bedroom had a view of this mountain with a huge crescent moon painted on the backdrop of a flag...that's where Turkish Cyprus begins. The Turks and Greeks hate each other with a passion that makes the Indo-Pak rivalry look like a romance. Though they're just across the border, they couldn't be more different.
Greek Cyprus (where we stayed) is more influenced by Europe. It's currency is the pound, and it's value in terms of Indian rupees would be around 77, but these people don't trade in the international market so if you crossed the border with a pound, it's as good as used tissue - absolutely worthless. This side of the fence, unemployment is almost nil, crime rate is 0, and the standard of living very high. They speak Greek. it's a very safe place. You can leave your house unlocked and go on a vacation and come back and nothing will be missing. You can safely walk around at 2 in the morning without worrying about being mugged. You don't have to worry about the taxis taking you for a ride (no pun), your pocket being picked, or your property being trespassed. The Turks I heard are everything the Greeks are not. There's rampant poverty and unemployment, and naturally, crime.
Nicosia is a beautiful city. When we landed, it was spring, a perfect season. The Mediterranean climate is very well suited for fruits, vegetables, and flowers. The flowers have to be seen to be believed! Every inch of available space has plants and you can see maybe a square foot of land with about 50 varieties of flowers of different colours. Lime and orange trees grow by the roadside and in spring, they're full of fruit. When the sea breeze sets in the evening, the aroma is intoxicating.
Where we stayed was the heart of Nicosia, just off the main road called Makarios Avenue, in a street called Dramas. Our apartment was on the 7th floor, and every window in every room overlooked the mountains in the distance. The sunsets were breathtaking (the sunrises also, I suppose, but I never rose with the sun to look). About 2 to 3 km from where we stayed is the Town Square, a local hangout - much like MG Road but a lot cleaner and not as crowded. No traffic is allowed in the Square, so there's only foot traffic. It's a block of area covered with hundreds of shops and yummy eateries. At the end of the Town Square is a memorial for the soldiers who died during the Turkish invasion of 1974. Just behind the Memorial is a wall with steps leading up. If you climb up and peep across, you can see where Turkish Cyprus begins. It's heavily patrolled by soldiers who're such hunks!
Nicosia doesn't have an airport. It did have an international airport until recently when the UN took it over, so it's not open to civil air traffic. The airport is at Larnaka, a city about 50 km from Nicosia. It's a good thing because the ride from Larnaka to Nicosia is absolutely stunning! The airport is right next to the Mediterranean, so when you descend, the view is awesome. On the other side are the mountains (if you have a good imagination, it'll help because no words can do justice to this sight).
The Mediterranean is a lovely colour. Ink blue in the middle, copper sulfate as it shallows off, and peacock green where the shores start. It's a very friendly sea, calm, blue, and very safe. You'll never see here the huge rolling crashing waves that you see in the other oceans. It's an ideal place to learn deep see diving and snorkelling and the beach towns have lessons for tourists - if you camp at a beach twon, it's irresistible, but we only visited the beaches, never stayed overnight anywhere.
The most beautiful was the Agia Napa (pronounced ayya-napa) beach town. It's the hottest tourist destination of all the beaches in Cyprus. It's spic and span, has lovely beachfront hotels and cottages, beautiful flowers and trees, great eateries, and deadly shops. The beach road is heavenly. You can spend hours just sitting on the benches on the beach road and watching life buzz around. We visited two other beaches - Pafos which is on the west and Kurion (also called Curium) which is on the way to Pafos. We visited Curium first. The road to Curium is cut through a hill and the terrain is very unpredictable on the other side. Sometimes, it flattens off into plains and sometimes it's just a sheer drop. We were travelling with friends who live in Limassol and have travelled the road many times. They stopped the car abruptly and told us to get out and take a look....we gasped! There was the Mediterranean!! It's beauty when you see it from the hill is indescribable. From where we were standing on the hill, we could see cars parked right almost to where the waves can lap on the tyres. It's not much of a beach when you actually get to Pafos. It's a very small strip and it's not as glamourous as Agia Napa. Hardly anyone goes to Curium I heard and I had to wonder why! It's not marketed as a tourist spot like Agia Napa, so it's probably the best place to go. We had a great time on Curium beach. Hardly anyone was around and the water was fantastic. Because we got there around 4, the sun was directly overhead, the water was lukewarm and the loveliest blue I've ever seen. It was then I noticed how the water looks a different colour at each beach. By the time we reached Pafos, it had started to get very cloudy and misty, so we missed the sunset which is apparently an unforgettable sight if you see it. Pafos is not much of a beach at all. It has rocks going out into the Mediterranean and you can go quite a bit into the sea. On our way back from Pafos, we stopped at a Pakistani restaurant (if you're in Europe, a Pakistani restaurant is home!!) called Pine Tree. It's right next to one of the two British bases in Cyprus. The minute you get out of the car, a very strong aroma of pine hits you - it's very sharp and refreshing. It's a small place and Asians are very welcome. No one cares where you're from. The food is lovely.
The Cypriot food is superlative if you're a non-veggy. If you're a grasseater like yours sincerely, you don't have too much choice. The traditional Cypriot meal is something called a Mezze which is (get ready!) a 30-course meal...yes! 30-COURSE! We weren't adventurous enough to try it. It's got lots of meats, vegetables, fish, bread, and fruit. They eat a lot of wheat products but rice is also available. You have food products from all over the world on that tiny island.
The Cypriots are great drinkers (my kind of folks!) The Cyprus White Wine is quite a hot favourite in the Mediterranean. They have 4 major breweries and KEO and SODAP are 2 of the most famous. KEO beer is as delicious as they come but their wines are even better- they have a real kick, especially their red wines. They drink a lot of coffee too! Every kind of tea in the world is available, but they're great coffee drinkers (my kind of folks again!). The Greek coffee is a must on all menus. It's very strong, made without milk, and is simply yummy! Traditional Cypriot sweets are apparenly very very sugary - I tasted just one kind, very masrshmallowy in texture.
Kakopetria is a lovely little mountain village tucked away in the Troodos mountain range. It's bang in the mountains and a tourist bomb. It's actualy just a 3-road job - you walk up and down twice and you've seen the entire village. People who're trekking up to Troodos stop here on their way up. Troodos is a very rare mountain in that it's heavily snow capped and brightly sunlit at the same time giving it an almost surreal look. There are cozy little pubs and eateries in Kakopetria and dozens of souvenir and traditional handicraft shops. Cypriot handicrafts are not so great if you're going from India. It's difficult to get very excited with plain-looking pottery and metal and leather work after you've seen the intricacies of Indian handicraft, but I suppose they'll do for the Western traveller.
Cyprus is an unforgettable experience - and one you'd like to experience over again.
Cyprus is a Mediterranean Island. It's called the Island of Venus, Island of the Sun, Island of Aphrodite, hundreds of names really but nothing does justice to this charming place. Locally, it's called Kypru. The population is about 700,000 (less than Bangalore!) It's history is complicated and interesting but it's most recent influences have been Turkish, British, and of course Greek. It's been colonised just like us, and everyone speaks English. The people are warm and friendly and very interested in India. Cyprus is located in a commercial hotspot - a Mediterranean port close to 3 continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe but they don't export much....mainly oranges. They import everything from everywhere.
Where we stayed was Nicosia, the capital city, locally known as Lefkosia. It's perfect to a fault, very picturesque, very neat and tidy, very laid back, and very very safe. The best way to see the city is by foot (I suppose that's the best way to see any place). Nicosia is the last divided capital city in the world. My bedroom had a view of this mountain with a huge crescent moon painted on the backdrop of a flag...that's where Turkish Cyprus begins. The Turks and Greeks hate each other with a passion that makes the Indo-Pak rivalry look like a romance. Though they're just across the border, they couldn't be more different.
Greek Cyprus (where we stayed) is more influenced by Europe. It's currency is the pound, and it's value in terms of Indian rupees would be around 77, but these people don't trade in the international market so if you crossed the border with a pound, it's as good as used tissue - absolutely worthless. This side of the fence, unemployment is almost nil, crime rate is 0, and the standard of living very high. They speak Greek. it's a very safe place. You can leave your house unlocked and go on a vacation and come back and nothing will be missing. You can safely walk around at 2 in the morning without worrying about being mugged. You don't have to worry about the taxis taking you for a ride (no pun), your pocket being picked, or your property being trespassed. The Turks I heard are everything the Greeks are not. There's rampant poverty and unemployment, and naturally, crime.
Nicosia is a beautiful city. When we landed, it was spring, a perfect season. The Mediterranean climate is very well suited for fruits, vegetables, and flowers. The flowers have to be seen to be believed! Every inch of available space has plants and you can see maybe a square foot of land with about 50 varieties of flowers of different colours. Lime and orange trees grow by the roadside and in spring, they're full of fruit. When the sea breeze sets in the evening, the aroma is intoxicating.
Where we stayed was the heart of Nicosia, just off the main road called Makarios Avenue, in a street called Dramas. Our apartment was on the 7th floor, and every window in every room overlooked the mountains in the distance. The sunsets were breathtaking (the sunrises also, I suppose, but I never rose with the sun to look). About 2 to 3 km from where we stayed is the Town Square, a local hangout - much like MG Road but a lot cleaner and not as crowded. No traffic is allowed in the Square, so there's only foot traffic. It's a block of area covered with hundreds of shops and yummy eateries. At the end of the Town Square is a memorial for the soldiers who died during the Turkish invasion of 1974. Just behind the Memorial is a wall with steps leading up. If you climb up and peep across, you can see where Turkish Cyprus begins. It's heavily patrolled by soldiers who're such hunks!
Nicosia doesn't have an airport. It did have an international airport until recently when the UN took it over, so it's not open to civil air traffic. The airport is at Larnaka, a city about 50 km from Nicosia. It's a good thing because the ride from Larnaka to Nicosia is absolutely stunning! The airport is right next to the Mediterranean, so when you descend, the view is awesome. On the other side are the mountains (if you have a good imagination, it'll help because no words can do justice to this sight).
The Mediterranean is a lovely colour. Ink blue in the middle, copper sulfate as it shallows off, and peacock green where the shores start. It's a very friendly sea, calm, blue, and very safe. You'll never see here the huge rolling crashing waves that you see in the other oceans. It's an ideal place to learn deep see diving and snorkelling and the beach towns have lessons for tourists - if you camp at a beach twon, it's irresistible, but we only visited the beaches, never stayed overnight anywhere.
The most beautiful was the Agia Napa (pronounced ayya-napa) beach town. It's the hottest tourist destination of all the beaches in Cyprus. It's spic and span, has lovely beachfront hotels and cottages, beautiful flowers and trees, great eateries, and deadly shops. The beach road is heavenly. You can spend hours just sitting on the benches on the beach road and watching life buzz around. We visited two other beaches - Pafos which is on the west and Kurion (also called Curium) which is on the way to Pafos. We visited Curium first. The road to Curium is cut through a hill and the terrain is very unpredictable on the other side. Sometimes, it flattens off into plains and sometimes it's just a sheer drop. We were travelling with friends who live in Limassol and have travelled the road many times. They stopped the car abruptly and told us to get out and take a look....we gasped! There was the Mediterranean!! It's beauty when you see it from the hill is indescribable. From where we were standing on the hill, we could see cars parked right almost to where the waves can lap on the tyres. It's not much of a beach when you actually get to Pafos. It's a very small strip and it's not as glamourous as Agia Napa. Hardly anyone goes to Curium I heard and I had to wonder why! It's not marketed as a tourist spot like Agia Napa, so it's probably the best place to go. We had a great time on Curium beach. Hardly anyone was around and the water was fantastic. Because we got there around 4, the sun was directly overhead, the water was lukewarm and the loveliest blue I've ever seen. It was then I noticed how the water looks a different colour at each beach. By the time we reached Pafos, it had started to get very cloudy and misty, so we missed the sunset which is apparently an unforgettable sight if you see it. Pafos is not much of a beach at all. It has rocks going out into the Mediterranean and you can go quite a bit into the sea. On our way back from Pafos, we stopped at a Pakistani restaurant (if you're in Europe, a Pakistani restaurant is home!!) called Pine Tree. It's right next to one of the two British bases in Cyprus. The minute you get out of the car, a very strong aroma of pine hits you - it's very sharp and refreshing. It's a small place and Asians are very welcome. No one cares where you're from. The food is lovely.
The Cypriot food is superlative if you're a non-veggy. If you're a grasseater like yours sincerely, you don't have too much choice. The traditional Cypriot meal is something called a Mezze which is (get ready!) a 30-course meal...yes! 30-COURSE! We weren't adventurous enough to try it. It's got lots of meats, vegetables, fish, bread, and fruit. They eat a lot of wheat products but rice is also available. You have food products from all over the world on that tiny island.
The Cypriots are great drinkers (my kind of folks!) The Cyprus White Wine is quite a hot favourite in the Mediterranean. They have 4 major breweries and KEO and SODAP are 2 of the most famous. KEO beer is as delicious as they come but their wines are even better- they have a real kick, especially their red wines. They drink a lot of coffee too! Every kind of tea in the world is available, but they're great coffee drinkers (my kind of folks again!). The Greek coffee is a must on all menus. It's very strong, made without milk, and is simply yummy! Traditional Cypriot sweets are apparenly very very sugary - I tasted just one kind, very masrshmallowy in texture.
Kakopetria is a lovely little mountain village tucked away in the Troodos mountain range. It's bang in the mountains and a tourist bomb. It's actualy just a 3-road job - you walk up and down twice and you've seen the entire village. People who're trekking up to Troodos stop here on their way up. Troodos is a very rare mountain in that it's heavily snow capped and brightly sunlit at the same time giving it an almost surreal look. There are cozy little pubs and eateries in Kakopetria and dozens of souvenir and traditional handicraft shops. Cypriot handicrafts are not so great if you're going from India. It's difficult to get very excited with plain-looking pottery and metal and leather work after you've seen the intricacies of Indian handicraft, but I suppose they'll do for the Western traveller.
Cyprus is an unforgettable experience - and one you'd like to experience over again.
You Can't Get Out of Here, You Know
Scrape...scrape...scratch..tap...tap. A bandicoot. No, maybe a cat...or is it? Glllubb...gluubb...clink...clink...metal on wood, or was it glass on metal? No, this was not a four-legged animal. Footsteps...
She got up slowly from her bed and tiptoed quietly to the stairway. She saw him. His back was to her. He had lit a candle and was looking for a place to put it down. She stood there studying him. He was getting impatient; he would surely drop something now. CRASH! The vase. He spun around instinctively and saw her. They stood looking at each other, her eyes calm, his jumping wildly around the room. He grabbed the telephone and snapped the line in a single motion. "It's been dead for a while now," her voice was soft and musical. He looked up startled. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. "Just give me what you have and I'll leave," he tried to make his voice sound menacing. 'After I slit your throat,' he thought to himself. "There's nothing here," she said calmly. He looked at her closely. She was very beautiful and trying to be very brave.
He started up the stairs. "Where's the safe?" She moved to make way. "I've just been burgled," she said as he passed her on the stairs. He laughed. He'd heard everything else. There were two rooms on this floor, both closed. He opened the first door and went into the room. Except for a cot, there was nothing there. She stood at the entrance watching him. Why was she not screaming for help or something? "I told you...I've just been burgled 3 days ago," she said quietly. "Look, if you don't give me what you have, I'll kill you," he advanced threateningly. Terror crossed her face and she withdrew slightly. "I don't have a safe. All my valuables were in the living room, and he took everything - it's all gone, 3 days ago," she began to descend.
For the first time, he noticed the house was a mess. "Why haven't you straightened it out?" he asked before he could stop himself. 'This is crazy!' he thought. 'I came to clean up this place and I'm having a conversation with the resident!' He hadn't even expected anyone to be in. He'd been casing the joint for 3 days now and it had seemed unoccupied. He suddenly remembered he had seen 2 rooms upstairs but had only gone into one of them. He turned to go back up.
"Where are you going?" she followed him. He ignored her and continued climbing. She followed him. They reached the closed door. "There's nothing in there you know," she said and he thought he detected a trace of sadness in her voice. He tried the door. It was locked. Ah-ha! So this is where the action was. "Give me the key," he demanded in a quietly menacing voice. To his surprise, she reached into her robe for the key and unlocked the door. She was neither as clever nor as brave as he had thought. "You can't get out of here, you know," she said sadly as he entered. He stood still. There was someone sleeping on a cot here. Now, he would have to kill both of them.
He looked down at the sleeping figure and his heart slammed against his rib cage. He jumped back from the cot as if he'd been punched. His eyes widened in terror and his mouth opened in a silent scream. It was her! He spun around. He was alone. They found his body the next day - only his body.
She got up slowly from her bed and tiptoed quietly to the stairway. She saw him. His back was to her. He had lit a candle and was looking for a place to put it down. She stood there studying him. He was getting impatient; he would surely drop something now. CRASH! The vase. He spun around instinctively and saw her. They stood looking at each other, her eyes calm, his jumping wildly around the room. He grabbed the telephone and snapped the line in a single motion. "It's been dead for a while now," her voice was soft and musical. He looked up startled. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. "Just give me what you have and I'll leave," he tried to make his voice sound menacing. 'After I slit your throat,' he thought to himself. "There's nothing here," she said calmly. He looked at her closely. She was very beautiful and trying to be very brave.
He started up the stairs. "Where's the safe?" She moved to make way. "I've just been burgled," she said as he passed her on the stairs. He laughed. He'd heard everything else. There were two rooms on this floor, both closed. He opened the first door and went into the room. Except for a cot, there was nothing there. She stood at the entrance watching him. Why was she not screaming for help or something? "I told you...I've just been burgled 3 days ago," she said quietly. "Look, if you don't give me what you have, I'll kill you," he advanced threateningly. Terror crossed her face and she withdrew slightly. "I don't have a safe. All my valuables were in the living room, and he took everything - it's all gone, 3 days ago," she began to descend.
For the first time, he noticed the house was a mess. "Why haven't you straightened it out?" he asked before he could stop himself. 'This is crazy!' he thought. 'I came to clean up this place and I'm having a conversation with the resident!' He hadn't even expected anyone to be in. He'd been casing the joint for 3 days now and it had seemed unoccupied. He suddenly remembered he had seen 2 rooms upstairs but had only gone into one of them. He turned to go back up.
"Where are you going?" she followed him. He ignored her and continued climbing. She followed him. They reached the closed door. "There's nothing in there you know," she said and he thought he detected a trace of sadness in her voice. He tried the door. It was locked. Ah-ha! So this is where the action was. "Give me the key," he demanded in a quietly menacing voice. To his surprise, she reached into her robe for the key and unlocked the door. She was neither as clever nor as brave as he had thought. "You can't get out of here, you know," she said sadly as he entered. He stood still. There was someone sleeping on a cot here. Now, he would have to kill both of them.
He looked down at the sleeping figure and his heart slammed against his rib cage. He jumped back from the cot as if he'd been punched. His eyes widened in terror and his mouth opened in a silent scream. It was her! He spun around. He was alone. They found his body the next day - only his body.
Oh, Blast!
One night, as we relaxed after dinner, we heard a huge explosion that rattled window panes and sent people pouring into the streets within seconds to locate the disaster area. To appreciate what I'm about to tell you, you'll need to know a little bit about my locality. It's just off a busy main road that boasts of half a dozen eateries always packed to the brim, video libraries, net cafes, a few small businesses and many other pretenders. Ours is a typical middle-class neighbourhood - small families (big quarrels), working single men and women, bored housewives, happy drunks - in short, a very ordinary neighbourhood with lots of action every day but all of us still convinced that we lead a quiet bored existence.
Into such a quiet and bored night was injected this aforementioned blast and the resulting outpour of human curiosity. Now, if such a thing were to ever happen in your neighbourhood, take my advice and do this - do nothing. Just stand by and watch a fascinating drama of humanity that will unravel itself; find a vantage point for your observation - from where you can watch two or three streets simultaneously. If you can move, unnoticed with the crowd, nothing like it. Here's what I saw:
From the convenience store at the corner of our street, emerged one of its owners, an affable bald man (now obviously distressed) walking rapidly and chanting in a low monotone to no one in particular: "What happened? What happened?" as he rushed into the first unlocked gates within sight - a block of the sprawling apartments nearby, and disappeared.
Next, a group of young men came charging down the street screaming, "Bomb! Bomb!" and turing the corner, raced out of sight excitedly. Following them were a band of young girls with their older female wards chattering animatedly. I stopped the group and asked "What happened?" "Sounds like a cylinder burst," one of the ladies ventured. A passerby picked it up and began running around screaming "cylinder burst, cylinder burst." This caused everyone to barge into the eateries on the main road which were all empty - because the crowd from the eateries were in front of an electronic gadgets shop guessing that to be the disaster site. The electronic gadgets shop was empty - they had set off to investigate the source of the blast too.
The entire crowd now charged into the next street loking for fire, smoke, blood, limbs, anything that would confirm a massive mysterious blast. They were met there by an equally huge crowd headed into our lane in hopes of finding similar carnage. Two drunks stumbling home met the excited crowd from both lanes and blabbered unsteadily, "Shumbudy shot the priminishter." Someone screamed, "Assassination!!" and everyone ran back into their homes to turn on their TV sets.
During all this time, there was one bewildered man following the crowd everywhere trying to get someone's attention. He kept saying "but please, listen to me.....listen to what I have to say...." but they rushed on mindlessly. Now that the street had emptied, I stopped the perplexed guy and popped the question "What happened?"
"I'm a truck driver," he said, "I was speeding down the road tonight and I ripped my tyre. I was trying to explain to these people that was the sound they heard."
Into such a quiet and bored night was injected this aforementioned blast and the resulting outpour of human curiosity. Now, if such a thing were to ever happen in your neighbourhood, take my advice and do this - do nothing. Just stand by and watch a fascinating drama of humanity that will unravel itself; find a vantage point for your observation - from where you can watch two or three streets simultaneously. If you can move, unnoticed with the crowd, nothing like it. Here's what I saw:
From the convenience store at the corner of our street, emerged one of its owners, an affable bald man (now obviously distressed) walking rapidly and chanting in a low monotone to no one in particular: "What happened? What happened?" as he rushed into the first unlocked gates within sight - a block of the sprawling apartments nearby, and disappeared.
Next, a group of young men came charging down the street screaming, "Bomb! Bomb!" and turing the corner, raced out of sight excitedly. Following them were a band of young girls with their older female wards chattering animatedly. I stopped the group and asked "What happened?" "Sounds like a cylinder burst," one of the ladies ventured. A passerby picked it up and began running around screaming "cylinder burst, cylinder burst." This caused everyone to barge into the eateries on the main road which were all empty - because the crowd from the eateries were in front of an electronic gadgets shop guessing that to be the disaster site. The electronic gadgets shop was empty - they had set off to investigate the source of the blast too.
The entire crowd now charged into the next street loking for fire, smoke, blood, limbs, anything that would confirm a massive mysterious blast. They were met there by an equally huge crowd headed into our lane in hopes of finding similar carnage. Two drunks stumbling home met the excited crowd from both lanes and blabbered unsteadily, "Shumbudy shot the priminishter." Someone screamed, "Assassination!!" and everyone ran back into their homes to turn on their TV sets.
During all this time, there was one bewildered man following the crowd everywhere trying to get someone's attention. He kept saying "but please, listen to me.....listen to what I have to say...." but they rushed on mindlessly. Now that the street had emptied, I stopped the perplexed guy and popped the question "What happened?"
"I'm a truck driver," he said, "I was speeding down the road tonight and I ripped my tyre. I was trying to explain to these people that was the sound they heard."
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