Archives for December, 2008
Always ask the flight attendant. That’s my rule for getting useful information about any country where we are going to. I’ve got great tips on where to buy the best leather jackets in France, classic tapas bars in Madrid, and beggar’s chicken in Hong Kong. On one of our early flights through Frankfurt, I was poring through the airline map in the magazine. These maps are fabulous and I live a whole vicarious fantasy, tracking the routes and imagining the destinations.
The attendant saw me deep in study, and came over. I asked for places close to Frankfurt that we could see on an overnight trip. ‘You must go to Heidelberg. Its only two hours from the airport, and it’s very nice’. The name conjured up three images for me – dueling scars on high cheekbones, printing presses, and a very hip university.
Everyone who writes about Heidelberg recommends a trip to the Philosophenweg – the Philosopher’s Way, high up on the hillside overlooking the city. The great thinkers of the city are known to have taken long walks up and down the hillside, lost in thought. Or they were engaged in deep intellectual discourse with young acolytes, as they made their way. Or maybe they just went there to get away from nagging wives. It completely captured our imagination. We had to go there, and walk the talk.
Our taxi driver the next morning was from Italy. She had come to Heidelberg to study, found love, and never left. We told her that we wanted to cross the bridge and see the Philosophenweg, then see the fort, and finally go to the cathedral, near the University. Her expression said ‘Tourists’ with the same disdain that Manhattanites show when they spot a license plate from outside the Tri State area.
Yoda was entranced. Cars can’t go on the ‘Weg’, so we took off his leash and let him go. He became a free roaming dog. The spirit of Goethe and Wittgenstein seemed to enter his soul. He refused to walk with us. He took on this quizzical expression as he wandered through the grass, first on the left and then on the right side of the road. Other walkers, and the bligatory demented runners gave him his space, and were careful not to get in his way.
His spirit of enquiry led him to contemplate little heaps of leaves. He gingerly stepped on them, and then rolled over on his back, threw his paws up in the air, and did the hippy-hippy shake. Snoopy never looked so happy. Mina looked distraught as she thought about the hours she would have to spend de-twigging him.
Yoda then ventured out down the slope – a first for him. He had decided to throw caution to the wind. The timid cannot be of enquiring mind. He made a few intuitive leaps as he bounded down, and came to a halt at the Goethe statue. An art student was sketching, and Yoda went up and made friends. He looked up at the statue and paid tribute in the only way he knows, with the salute of the uplifted leg.
Where were we through all this? Yoda was first behind us, then ahead of us, and finally below us. We watched him initially with anxiety, then with pride, and finally in fits of hilarity as he spread his wings, felt his oats, and launched on his adventure.
We were on the clock. There was more to see, and a plane to catch. Yoda was unmoved with our calls and pleas. He kept wandering further up the path, and was happy to disappear out of our line of sight. I ran after him, and provided great amusement to a tour group, who whipped out their cameras and began to take pictures. If you ever see a man chasing a Shih Tzu on You Tube, you know it’s me.
All through the day, Yoda seemed a liberated soul. At the fort, down by the cathedral, on the riverfront, he strutted around with a great air of independence. No more being tentative, no more looking to see if Mina was with him, no shrinking from traffic noise or pedestrians. He was on a roll, and there was no stopping him.
On the way back to Frankfurt, and all the way to New York, Yoda stayed lost in thought. Untroubled, unfazed by turbulence, uninterested in the kibble we kept pushing at him, Yoda retreated into a calm, meditative state.
Eddication is a wonderful thing. And we learned in Heidelberg that you don’t need to attend University to get it. You can breathe the same air, and set your mind free.
You can sneer all you want, but when Yoda gets his Honorary Doctorate from Harvard, you’ll sing a different tune.
Dec 14, 2008 | | Book
I love sitting at the Frederic Fekkai salon in New York, waiting as Mina gets her hair done. Women come there seeking liberation and absolution, and the Fekkai staff are well primed to provide both in plenty. ‘You look great’ – the chorus starts as you step off the elevator. As you depart ‘Fabulous, simply fabulous’ – from the shampoo lady to the coat-check girl – it’s like leaving a Japanese restaurant – you hear these words declaimed up and down the scale.
It’s a thing of beauty to see the stylists play the ‘ultimate blonde’ game. The grander the dame, the more ultimate they get. ‘ Please stand up. Great. And now, chin up please, look into the mirror, and shake your head’. Swish, swish, turn turn, - Social X Rays shake their heads, like Blonde cheerleaders at a pep rally. It’s great fun to watch. There is bound to be a very good hair styling reason that the ladies are put through their paces in this manner. I also think that the entire staff has a betting pool to see how many shakes they can get, without jeopardizing their tip.
We go through Yoda’s bathing ritual every four weeks or so. His hair has begun to turn brown, it is no longer silky, in fact it’s become wiry and knotted in places, his pristine beard is flecked with earth colors – we all know that it’s bath time.
Mina and I get into our swimwear. There is a lot of splashing. Mina goes through the pre-flight checklist. A chair for Yoda, all his bottles, towels, a vacuum cleaner, a bag full of brushes, a selection of bows – then check the water temperature, and we are off.
First a couple of mineral oil drops to protect his eyes from the water and the shampoo.
Now its time for the towels, the kind that Olympic swimmers use to absorb every last drop of water off their well honed bodies.
Make the towels wet, puff them up, wring them dry and now they are ready to absorb.
Turn on the water and hose the boy up and down.
Mina handles his head and torso, I work on his paws, underbelly and lower jaw. Four hands, for nine pounds of dog. Economists used to call this disguised unemployment.
The oatmeal shampoo goes on, and out come streams of brown. The dirt and dust of Bombay come cascading off his body. All the while Mina and I are maintaining a line of patter like barkers at a carnival. ‘You’re going to look great. You’ll be the most beautiful dog in the whole world. You’re hair’s going to be so soft. Wow. Fabulous’. Keep your eye on the end result pooch, and in the meantime, let us scrub away.
Many rounds of shampoo later, the water that comes off Yoda is pristine. I’m not saying I would drink it, but there is no hint of any brown.
Now, it’s time for the conditioner. ‘Tall and tan and young and lovely….’ we sing the Girl from Ipanema. He covers his face with his paws. Is it the water, or our caterwauling?
Bring on the Pooch Brite – it’s like waxing a car – really puts a shine on his coat. Yoda can already sense the transformation taking place, and he shifts mood from withdrawn to enthusiastic. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel, or so he thinks.
Give him the final water rinse.
Take off the food stains that have accumulated on his beard with Diamond Eye.
Now he’s ready for drying. First we towel him off, and get a lot of the water out of his hair. Next comes the vacuum cleaner. No, we don’t plan to suck the rest of the water out. Mina bought a videotape on grooming, and they said to use the ‘blow’ cycle of a vacuum cleaner to dry out your dog’s hair. No fear of singeing the dog’s skin – which could happen with a hair dryer. You learn something new every day.
He’s dry. He’s fluffy. Now it’s time for the brushing. Yoda shakes his hair. ‘Swish, Swish, Turn, Turn’ and it all falls into place. It’s the perfect, natural parting.
Time to brush his hair.
Time to put his bow on again.
Time to look back, and say ‘Fabulous, just fabulous’.
Time to set him down and give him his treat.
Time to gather all his stuff and put it away.
Five bottles, two towels, one vacuum cleaner, four brushes, one bag of bows, all safely put away.
Time to change into our street clothes.
And then, it’s time for a drink.
Dec 14, 2008 | | Book
‘It’s the most important day of my life, and you want to ruin it’. Ayesha was getting married to Brian and for about a year, we got to hear a lot of this line. She was at school in Cleveland, and put up with all ‘our mistake on the lake’ jokes, so I guess we were even.
Ayesha wanted to get married in a white dress. Why would a Hindu girl, with a Muslim name, marrying an American of Scottish descent, want to indulge in a pure Disney fantasy? She told me, and since then I have asked many young Indian women and they have all concurred, that Cinderella and Snow White were their role models. Growing up in India on a diet of story books, comics, and animated movies, all they wanted on their wedding day was a frilly white dress. Walt would be happy.
We got the dress, a saga involving many fittings, phone calls, crises, and lost luggage.
The wedding planner was guiding us through the choreography of getting married in a ‘Western’ context. There had to be a ring bearer. In TV footage of Royal weddings, we have always seen a pudgy little fellow dressed up in a Little Lord Fauntleroy suit carefully bring the ring on a maroon cushion, biting his lips as he tried not to trip and disgrace himself in front of a global audience.
We had no pudgy little fellows in the family at hand in Cleveland.
Mina had a brain wave. Yoda could be the ring bearer. She would make sure that Yoda was well groomed for the event, so that he would add to the beauty of the pictures. The florist could create a special corsage for him to wear. The ring would be in a beautiful ribbon tied around his neck. The bow would be loosely tied so that Brian would have no problem untying it. We could even have Yoda on a long ribbon leash so that if he decided to wander, e could be steered back on course. He would be walked just before the ceremony, so that there was no chance of him leaving a puddle in the middle of the proceedings.
She had it all figured out. What a great idea. What could go wrong? It would make the whole wedding more memorable, and it would bring great joy to the heart of the mother of the bride.
Shortly after she thought this up, she had read a story People magazine about some movie star whose dog was also part of the wedding. Now she had media validation for her idea, even if it was only People magazine.
‘It’s the most important day of my life, and you’re trying to ruin it. I won’t let that dog have any place in my wedding. I am not going to let you make a mockery of TMIDOML. If you want Yoda to be a ring bearer, why don’t you and Mohan get married again, and let him do it at your wedding. There’s no way that he’s going to be my ring bearer. Brian’s best man will have the ring, and that’s it. Don’t even think about it, and don’t you dare spring it on me as a surprise on my wedding day’.
‘How about this? Mohan and I are going to walk you down the aisle. Mohan can hold your hand, and I will have Yoda in my hands’. ‘No way that dog is going to play any role in my wedding. You’re trying to ruin TMIDOML’.
Ayesha got married in the foyer of the concert hall in Cleveland. It was a non-denominational ceremony officiated by a chaplain from the University. He was a wonderful man, who enjoyed the idea of integrating both cultures into the wedding. He was sympathetic to Yoda as ring bearer, but equally sensitive to the wishes of the bride. He persuaded Mina to let go of the idea, but no one was sure if she was really on board.
A bride has many reasons to be nervous on her wedding day. Ayesha had one more reason. In the hours leading up to the ceremony she cornered me a number of times, and gave me the look. I tried to reassure her that all would be well, and she would have a pooch-free ceremony, but she was not convinced. She knows her mother.
The wedding was perfect. Everything went as planned. Ayesha and Mina looked magnificent. I did not trip down the stairs, and did not choke up with tears.
Yoda sat on the side in a friend’s lap. He did not move, he did not make a peep, he sat serenely, and stayed awake through the entire ceremony.
After the wedding, a reception line formed on the steps outside the hall. The first line was full of people waiting to greet and congratulate Ayesha and Brian. A small subsidiary line formed on the side, of people wanting to play with Yoda and give him his share of loving.
Win win on TMIDOML.
Dec 08, 2008 | | Book
Three stylish European men. Four perky American blondes. Six ringing celphones. Gstaad in the summer.
We were on our way to the Swiss lakes, to spend a few days recuperating from a sales convention in Montreux, and had stopped for lunch. We set Yoda up on our lunch table in the garden, and soon the chic mob stepped out of their ultracool persona, and came and played with him. He has this way of getting people to leave their attitude behind.
In Montreux, Yoda had for once disgraced himself by barking uncontrollably at a lady wearing a burkha in the hotel. Every time she walked past, he would bark. We could not see her face to register her expression, but her gait said it all. I would have loved to quiz Yoda on what had set him off. Was it her clothes, or something about her that he did not approve of? Fortunately the hotel people were on our side. Maybe she was not a good tipper.
We took Yoda to see the Saint Bernard dogs on the Italian border and he wanted to get out of his case and play with them. Not a good idea. We did not have our passports with us, and yet braved it across the Italian check point, just to set foot in Italy. The brave and silly things we did before 9/11.
Coming back into Switzerland, the border guards began to give us a tough time, because we had no papers. We waved Yoda in their faces, and they waved us through. On our way back we wondered if we could hang a little keg of brandy around his neck, and have him bring it to us after dinner every evening. Sommelier Yoda – his latest avatar.
The hotel at Interlaken rolled out the red carpet for Yoda. A special bed, a special blanket, a special bowl for his water, and some special treats- everything was special for him. We had to satisfy ourselves with the mints they left on our pillows.
Many hotels around the world are beginning to wake up to the dog market. People want to travel with their pets, and it’s a sure way to get a dedicated group of customers. Hotels in Europe have always been dog friendly, and the US is now beginning to catch up.
At a Sheraton hotel, we were recently greeted with a release form authorizing the hotel to bill us for any damage Yoda might cause. I think they mistook him for a rock star who would get coked up and trash the room. They also gave us a couple of plastic bags for his poop, and a little note requesting us to take him out for regular walks. What a wonderful thing it is, when corporate PR and in house legal counsel come together in a good cause.
Hotels in India are confused about how to handle our dog-request. When we are planning a major business event, they are told they must allow Yoda, or it is a deal breaker. Revenue always triumphs over other qualms. When we plan to make a private visit, we need to do more sophisticated cajoling. The Raj Vilas capitulated when I mentioned the brand name of his carrying case, and assured them that Yoda would always be in it, when we went through the public areas. Ah, the power of advertising! We are what we wear.
It’s not just hotels. Last month, I saw an electronic sign in the windows of the Commerce Bank in New York. ‘ Dogs Rule’ was the first scroll followed by ‘ Your dog is always welcome in the bank’. Yessssssss. Finally it’s happening.
Dec 08, 2008 | | Book
