New York

If I had been here in early Jan and slowly been introduced to the bone-chilling cold, a few degrees at a time, it might have been bearable.

But spending day x in glorious 85 degree weather in Madras and day x+1 in 25 degree weather in New York? That’s not so great. I spent the past day wearing three layers of clothing, wool socks and freezing – all inside the house. Outside was a lot worse. I thought I was going to become an icicle.

Let’s hope the body adjusts fast – this weekend is going to be 9 degrees!! Makes me want to run back to India. But… I can keep whining or enjoy being home. Let me try the latter for a few hours and get back to you.

P.S.: Apparently this is post #50.

I was in London last week and often ended up taking a black cab. The cabs are expensive – more expensive than the Tube (London’s subway, which in itself is �3!), and about 30-40% more expensive than a NYC cab, but that’s about the only downside.

Compared to New York City taxi cabs, these black cabs are better in every single way.

• The cab drivers actually know where they are going. You tell them once what the address is and that’s it. In New York, if your address is not on the grid (x street, between y and z avenue), there is a huge possibility your driver won’t know where it is. Isn’t knowing the city part of the job??
• You never need to repeat yourself. Ever. They didn’t once say “Er, did you say 37th street and Broadway?”. I told them once what the address was and the next time I spoke to them was when I got off. Amazing. NYC cab drivers apparently can’t remember an address for longer than 3 minutes.
• They never talk on the phone and if they do, it is very quiet and very quick. Off all the cab drives only one driver got on his cell phone. And I could barely hear him over the engine noise and he was off the phone in about 20 seconds. They take their jobs seriously – like jobs. Not like vacations where they are doing you a favor by driving you while they talk. In NYC, almost 90% of my cab rides involve the driver being on his cell phone. And loudly. I’ve been privy to everything from lunch menus to home repairs. Ridiculous. And rude.
• They are polite. They say please and thank you and have a good evening. Considering London cabs are so expensive, apparently it is the norm to just round up. So, after the first couple of days of tipping 20%, I adjusted to London norms and for a cab ride that was �7.60, I gave the guy �8 and felt cheap doing so. He was still gracious and polite.
• The taxis are clean. They are comfortable and spotless. No grime, no left over tissues, nothing. In NYC, you feel like taking a shower after riding in some cabs. Some of them stink. Of course this could be a reflection on the taxi riding public in both cities too!
• The taxi configuration is so much better. London cabs are spacious on the inside. And they seat 6! In New York, if your driver is tall and has pushed his seat back, forget it, you are going to be scrunched in with no leg room. And the maximum NYC passenger limit is 4.
• Finally, London cabs have evolved from boring black and come in multiple colors including hot pink. NYC cabs are only yellow.

Apparently, the London cab drivers need to attend a two year plus training course called The Knowledge to learn the streets of London perfectly and in order to be allowed to become a cab driver. With another fare increase coming to NYC cabs, maybe passengers need to get something for the extra money. The list above seems like a good starting point!

More in my “loving New York” series.

On Wednesday evening, I went to the Christies Impressionist and Modern Sale. I visited in the morning to see the works. A sale like this, with works of such astounding quality is very rare. It was like visiting a museum that was doing a “best of” showcase.

The highlights of the sale were four works by Klimt. I have to say I loved them all.

They are phenomenal works of art. The Adele is masterful, but Birch Forest and Apple Tree just spoke to me.

They just make me want to smile. The paintings were behind glass, but I happened to be there at a moment when they opened them up for the press and it was astounding to see them directly. Gorgeous.

The other work that set record prices was a Gauguin. I have a special affinity for Paul Gauguin. When I was 14, I was dragged through the Smithsonian for 4 hours to see the most comprehensive retrospective of Gauguin’s work. Every major piece was there. While I felt it was somewhat torturous back then, I am really glad my mother forced us through the experience.

The other paintings that really drew me was a Toulouse-Lautrec that was an early work – a charming image of people lounging in the golden country side with a black dog by their side (very unlike some of his later works) and a wonderful wonderful Leger (unfortunately I can’t find an image for the awe inspirting work). Actually, there were so many amazing paintings… I was very lucky to see them.

The evening sale was a zoo. There were hordes of people and two overflow rooms. The sale set a record of $491 million (including buyer’s premium) and the star of the show, Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer II, sold for a whopping $87.9 million. Amazing. What a great experience.

Read more about the sale here. See all the prices here.

I LOVE living in New York. In terms of culture, it is truly mind-blowing. One of my favorite things is going to the opera.

The Metropolitan Opera is such a special experience. It is an elegantly regal building, both on the outside and inside, everyone is all dressed up, you drink some champagne at the break, and watch some of the finest performers around.

The first opera of this season for us was Rigoletto. We saw Rigoletto a couple of year ago and the sets were the same, but the performance last week was fabulous.

Rigoletto is best known for the song “La donna è mobile”, which most of the audience hummed along to. Also, the opening number, “Questa o quella” may be familiar to many – what a wonderful opening song to get everyone into a good mood.

Rigoletto is a long opera at 3 hours and it is broken into three acts. The first act sets the scene – we are introduced to the Duke of Mantua who is a womanizer extraordinaire and his jester Rigoletto, a hunchback who antagonizes the courtiers by being mean and offensive to them. Monterone, an elderly nobleman enters the building and accuses the Duke of seducing his daughter. When Rigoletto mocks him, he pronounces a father’s curse on Rigoletto.

Rigoletto goes home and worries about the curse. We see that he has a beautiful daughter, Gilda. He hides her from the world, worried for her safety. Unfortunately the Duke has already found her, but she thinks he is a poor student, Gualtier Maldè. In the meanwhile, the courtiers discover the daughter also, but think she is Rigoletto’s mistress.

Everyone clear? So Rigoletto leaves his house. The Duke shows up and flirts with Gilda. He then leaves. Rigoletto comes back, but it is too dark to see and he’s not sure where he is. He bumps into the courtiers who convince him they are trying to steal someone else’s mistress. They blindfold Rigoletto and have him hold the ladder and they abduct Gilda.

In Act 2, we discover that the courtiers have delivered Gilda to the Duke. He, of course, makes full use of the opportunity. By the time Rigoletto gets there, it is too late. Gilda soon rushes into his arms, weeping. Rigoletto swears vengeance, but Gilda begs him to forgive the Duke since she still loves him.

In Act 3, Rigoletto hires an assassin, Sparafucile, to kill the Duke. He also shows Gilda evidence that the Duke is flirting with the assassin’s sister, Maddalena. Gilda is sent to Verona, dressed as a boy (for protection). Maddalena begs Sparafucile to spare lover-boy, but they need a body to deliver to Rigoletto. Gilda returns and overhears their decision to kill the next person to enter the inn. Still in love with the Duke, despite his various dalliances, she sacrifices herself and knocks on the door. Sparafucile kills Gilda. When Rigoletto arrives, he is given a body in a bag. He opens it and is heartbroken to find it is Gilda — alas, Monterone’s curse has come true.

So, overall a depressing story. But that’s opera. The performances were awesome. Nancy Fabiola Herrera as Maddalena, Ekaterina Siurina as Gilda and Joseph Calleja as the Duke were excellent. My favorite was Juan Pons as Rigoletto.

What a wonderful evening! One thing that makes the Opera more accessible is the in-seat translations – at the back of every seat is a slim panel that translates the lyrics into English. So, you activate the device on the back of the seat in front of you and you can laugh along with the jokes. Ah, technology and the arts combining so well – I love it.

I left India right after I turned 21 and never had the opportunity to vote there. So, now, in 2006, I voted for the first time ever.

On this wonderfully pleasant fall day in New York City, I waited for the morning pre-work rush to be done and then strolled the four blocks to the polling station.

There was no line. Signed in, and then stood in front of the non-electronic machine. It was gigantic. And a tad intimidating. And very cool.

I pulled the red lever to the right and the turned the knobs to pick my candidates. Then, a quick check and pull the lever back to register my votes. That was it. So easy.

It was such a big moment for me personally that I felt it went by too quickly. Without drama. Without the “ta-da” I somehow expected. But as I walked back, I was ecstatic. I VOTED! That was so cool. I somehow expected the people in the street to congratulate me.

Now, I’ve always had an issue with the two party system here. I am socially liberal and fiscally conservative. That option does not exist. When push comes to shove, I will vote for the social values. But recently, things have gotten easier for me — we have two parties – one is socially conservative and fiscally liberal and the other is socially liberal and fiscally liberal. A no-brainer really.

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to be part of a very small gathering that met with Hilary Clinton. Damn, the woman is impressive. She is articulate, thoughtful and very smart. She doesn’t have the same charm, the people power that her husband did (too bad Bill didn’t attend!), but she was very, very powerful. I’m very glad she’s my senator — I hope she runs in 2008.

Now, I live in New York, where Hilary and Spitzer will both win by a landslide, but it was still special to be counted. Yes, I was voting for them, but I was also expressing my displeasure with where my country is headed under the current administration. Registering my vote for change. Standing up and being counted.

I went shopping yesterday with a pregnant friend to help her figure out all the things she needed to get. Now, you’ve all heard of breast pumps, but we were blown away by this contraption.

It raised some critical questions in our minds, including but not limited to –

• How often does one read and pump at the same time? How often does one read, talk on the phone *and* pump at the same time?
• Is it truly more efficient to pump both breasts at the same time? Isn’t the motor capacity fixed, which means pumping both breasts together takes longer (or the same as each breast sequentially)?
• Can they truly hang off there defying gravity like that?

If there’s anyone out there who’s used this device, we need to hear from you so that my friend can figure out if this should be on the “must have” list!

The NY Times had a hilarious article on how politicians use hand sanitizers, especially Purell, during a campaign where pressing the flesh is the order of the day.

I am a HUGE fan of Purell and carry a little bottle around with me in every handbag/backpack/travel bag. I am convinced that my use of the product has protected me from various infections over the years. So, for the second time, I am in full agreement with our President (the first was the nuclear deal with India – even though he can’t pronounce nuclear!)

“Good stuff, keeps you from getting colds,” Mr. Bush raved about hand sanitizer to Senator Barack Obama, Democrat of Illinois, at a White House encounter early last year.

There are lots of Dems who are also Purell users – Bill Clinton, Obama, Gore etc. But the one Dem I completely disagree with is Bill Richardson.

“It’s condescending to the voters,” said Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico, a Democrat.

Come on! No way is it condescending — it is not personal. It is that once you shake hands with a thousand, a hundred, even ten people, there are chances that your hands are all germy. You are doing your constituents a huge favor if you stay healthy through the campaign.

Purell did not play such a big part of my life in California. I drove to work in my own car and did not have to deal with public transportation ever. But once I started commuting to NY regularly, I started using it while I traveled. Planes can be hugely unhygienic. I won’t go into the gory details, but those tiny toilets are the main problem (if this is the situation when on the ground, the air has to much, much worse!). And despite using a paper towel to open the door handle (yes, you read right!), I always felt safer after Purelling! Especially if I had to eat or use my computer.

Okay, okay, I am not a freak. I am a slight germophobe, but with damned good reason.

Once I moved to NYC, Purell has become my constant companion. I love using the subway and use it to get around town all the time. However, I hate touching the subway bars — I mean can you blame me? At the very least over a thousand people have touched the same bar just that day. Of that thousand, I bet you that a good chunk of them are sick and a whole bunch of them haven’t washed their hands in a while! So, on occasion, if I can, I hook my arm around the bar instead so only my clothes are touching the bar. But in rush hour sometimes you absolutely have to hang onto a top bar. In those situations, Purell to the rescue. G, a friend from California who visited, is just as careful and we had hilarious subway episodes, clinging onto the bars with the crooks of our arms!

I even have Purell at home. There are times that I need to put on my shoes and leave quickly, with no time to run back to wash my hands. So, I’ve placed a Purell dispenser near the exit for easy use.

An invention that has changed the world – at least my world and that of Bill Clinton, George Bush, Dick Cheney, John McCain, Al Gore…

Deepavali, traditionally known as the Festival of Lights, is a celebration of hope for the world and the triumph of good over evil. It is one of the most important festivals on the Hindu calendar.

When I was growing up, we’d be woken up at first light, taken to the prayer room, given new clothes, and told to wash our hair and wear our new clothes. Then we’d run outside and burst crackers of all sorts (flowerpots, chakras, rockets, string bombs). It was a great fun for a kid. A few weeks before the big day, you go with your parents, choose your fireworks and then carefully use them, making sure to ration them out to last till Deepavali (so you get two weeks of nightly fireworks, and the whole neighborhood is filled with noise of kids celebrating). On Deepvali, after you set off the biggest and the best fireworks that you’ve carefully kept aside, you consume a delicious breakfast and visit family you hadn’t see in a while. The whole morning was spent driving from one house to the next until everyone was checked off the list. Of course, you ate incredible food all along the way and come home to eat a sumptuous lunch before napping it all off.

As an adult in New York, I’ve adapted the tradition significantly. Since I can’t really set off fireworks on my fire escape, I sleep in, get up when I please and then pick out the new, unworn clothes I’ve reserved for the occasion and dress up. Then, I call family, wish them and proceed to enjoy the wonderful food the festival demands. I think I’ve kept the most important elements!

The subway in New York is an amazing thing. When I first moved here, it took me a while to start using it. I didn’t know where I was going and it seemed complicated. But once I started using it, I was hooked. It is so incredibly fast and economical. Except in the summer where it is about 20 degrees hotter than outside and feels like an oven. In the summer, I resorted to taking the bus.

I learned that you can’t really people watch on the subway. I tried early on and a guy across me in the car caught my eye and smiled. Being from California and all, I smiled back. Of course this then led to a conversation. He was a cop, coming off his shift blah, blah. Right as he started asking me what I do for fun, fortunately, I had to get off. That experience made me focus on my little Treo and play games on it or read while listening to my iPod. Oh, talking about iPods — every other person on the subway has one. One day, I counted more than 15 people in the car had one.

But the subway can be very entertaining. The other day, during rush hour, the car doors closed and right as they closed a guy on the platform ran up to the door and started knocking incessantly. Everyone just looked at him like “Dude, what are you doing? We can’t open the door for you!” and then burst out laughing. Subway bonding.

Back in 1997, the economy was good and consulting firms wooed b-school students with style. Mitchell Madison flew folks to NY and put them up at The Pierre, a landmark at the South East corner of Central Park. I remember being blown away with the little suite (that I had all to myself) with amazing winter views of park’s skating rink.

Until last year, The Pierre was run by the Four Seasons. In fact, when I did a Google search, the Four Seasons still came up second, with the line “The Pierre New York is a Four Seasons Hotel”! Taj bought The Pierre last year and it was a dramatic and emphatic expansion for them.

I read about it when it happened, but it really struck me when I was walking by the the Pierre a couple of weeks ago and I saw an enormous Indian flag hanging next to the US flag on The Pierre.

Everyone talks about globalization and refers to outsourcing. Here we have an Indian company, expanding into the US, employing Americans. Very cool.