FIELD TRIP WITH PRE-SCHOOLERS

I wanted in when I heard that the kids were going on a field trip.

My friend here runs a pre-school / day-care.

So he designated me as the photographer for the trip. Seven kids got permission from their parents to go on this field trip. So me, my friend, an ayah and the seven knee-high toddlers got into an Innova and off we went. They reminded me of my school picnics and excursions.

Where were we going. Is it Nandi Hills. Is it Bannerghatta zoo or is it Vishveshwaraiah Museum. Don’t think so. The kids are too small.

Well, it turned out to be an aquarium shop down the lane.

The seven walked into the shop and were zapped to see so many brightly lit tanks and so many fishes.

For a few seconds they were speechless. And then one girl started crying. Taking cue all the others too started crying.

End of field trip.

We all got into the Innova and returned back to base.

#kidtales

#fieldtrip

WIFE OR PARENTS | hguy.blogspot.com

Who takes prime position? Parents or spouse.

Parents push their way to the front in India, but, in the US, it's the wife. One family learnt it the hard way.

Nagesh comes home and gets engaged to this girl. It was pipelined for some time. He was gaga and went out on long drives with the girl and showed her all the family property, including the benami ones which no one was supposed to know.

Anyways, marriage solemnised, and he flew back to the US. He will now begin paperwork for his new wife and she will join him soon. From the airport, he went to a relative’s place where he had parked his car. Here he slept for 2 hrs and then, after a hearty meal, left for his place, which was 3 hrs away. The relatives ask him to stay, rest – esp. after the long flight - and leave the next day. But the next day was Monday, and he needed to be at work first thing. Midway, he met with an accident and, sadly, passed away.

His parents and the newlywed wife leave for the US. They get no info from the authorities. Just asked to wait. The father makes daily trips to the police station – Indian style - but is told nothing. Please wait for the investigation to complete. This makes the father very suspicious. The vehicle is badly damaged but no other vehicle in the accident.

The relatives in India get a sad report. Some say that Americans seem to be protecting their own. Something fishy, says the other.

Then they are asked to visit the hospital. So the three reach there. The son is in a bed as though sleeping. Only the wife is allowed into the room. She is allowed to sit there and hold his hands. The parents are only allowed to look through a glass window. All this was reported to India.

Chalu Americans. What are they up to? Finally, the body is handed over to them. Technically, it was handed over to the wife. All correspondence was directed to the wife. They contact some local temples, and a 25-year-old sw engineer— who is also the head priest there — performs the last rights.

A week later, they get the police report. Things are a lot clearer now. It looks like the poor fellow fell asleep behind the wheel, hit the road divider, and flipped. The authorities took time to track an eyewitness and record his statement.

Crystal clear.

No doubts in anyone’s mind. Only the cultural shock that the wife is given precedence over the parents. 

#cultureshock

WHAT DO YOU SEE - Again | hguy.blogspot.com

Bernadine 'Birdie Pruessner

What a lovely face, na?

She must live a maha-satisfied life with the entire world at her feet.

However, that is not true.

She is no more with us.

She killed herself and her four children when she set fire to the house in the early months of 2024 while they slept. All of the children were younger than ten.

She appeared to be involved in a protracted legal battle with her ex-husband and ex-boyfriend, who are the father of two children each .

By the way, in 2013 she was named "Missouri Teacher of the Year."

#BernadinePruessner

WHAT DO YOU SEE? | hguy.blogspot.com

What do you see in this pic?

What if I tell you that this woman has had a miserable life, and has now found love, and is going to get married soon?

You will say, cool, everyone deserves some happiness.

See the pic again. What if I say she is a single mom who took her kid out of school, resigned from her job, and went on a Europe trip with her son.

You will say, OK, that's also education.

 

Look at her again. Now the truth bomb.

She took her 5-year-old foster son away from his biological father. The son was later found, dead, in a gutter. She was coolly roaming on the roads. Not coolly, it was suspicious coz someone called the cops.

My only problem was that she was driving a Jeep Cherokee.

Here in India, it's only the stinking rich who can afford that vehicle. In the US, it's the thugs. The ones who are above them, the filthy rich, go for Audi, BMW, Merc, or Volvo.

This is a developing story. Wonder what more crap needs to come out. 

#PammyMaye #DarnellTaylor

HOW TO DEAL WITH WOMEN - Indian Style | hguy.blogspot.com

Let's move, she insisted

This guy got married, and before he could blink, his new wife started... you know what... we should have our own life .... we should live alone ...

Women don't give up, na. They nag and nag till they get their way. 

So our guy took a house at RT Nagar, furnished it, and moved in with his wife. And before he could blink again, his father-in-law came from Hyderabad and like settled down. He stayed for two weeks and went back, only to return within a week. This FIL is a nosy fella and the girl behaves quite different when he is around.

So for this, he had to spend so much money.

One day, he came home late and drunk.

First things first, sex.

After that, he took his belt and gave his wife dhoom dham without explaining. She howled so loud that the whole of RT Nagar must have heard her.

And then he went to sleep beside her.

The next morning, the father-in-law, duly packed, informs he is going back to Hyderabad.

So soon, aaa, says the SIl, Stay na a few more days, and I will show u the whole of Bangalore.

I have seen enough, and have to go now.

Well.. that was that...

Since then the two have been happily married, now with two sons.

As they say, all is fair in love and war.

#truestories

AN EX-ARMY GUY I KNEW | hguy.blogspot.com

 

I was teaching computers at this institute, right at the Delhi-UP border.  The franchisee there hired an ex-army chap to take care of non-academic duties. You know - all-round development of students. I was in charge of academics, and he was to be my opposite number. 

 

Then I met the chappie himself. Young fellow. A 2nd lieutenant. Crisply dressed and more handsome than me. I was not impressed. How can you be ex-army as a 2nd lieutenant? Isn't that the first posting in the Army? 

I am busy with my work, and he is. One day I planned to spy on him and see what his work was like. He was teaching boys and girls how to shake hands. Well, that was the end of my interest in his work and I classify him as a duffer.

  

Then he organised a team outing to an amusement park. He actually did a good job organizing it. Bus, lunch and back. All well planned and organized. Now he had to return 1700/- to all. My share being 11 bucks. He didn't do that. He vanished. We didn't hear from him again. FYI, 1700 was big money those days.

 

This is how I lost all respect for Army and ex-Army men.

 

But that's not how the story ends.

 

Years later, I was in Bangalore. I had a con-call with a US client scheduled for 7pm Indian time. I stayed back on an empty floor. The staff all gone by 6. In walks this new guy from the sales department and introduces himself. One look I knew who. A little plum and soft. He talks to me for a good 20 minutes.

 

You know, I called him a duffer earlier. Here is why.

 

When he paused after said-20-minutes. I said "Chutiye, It's me re. Hemant". An Army guy should have recognised me from miles away. Even If I was in disguise. Well, you could see the color drain from his face. He sat there quietly for a decent 5 mins and then took his leave. I didn’t see him much hereafter. And then I hear he has left the organisation. I didn't tell anyone there about this. So no one knows about this unless they read this article and put two and two together. 

#exarmy #indianarmy #inda #army

 

NEXT JANMA LOVE | hguy.blogspot.com

BTW Janma mean 'life.

I have a perfect place on my first-storey balcony - to enjoy the rain. I sit there and watch the rain without getting wet. There is this tree that shields me. It also provides shelter to pedestrians.

I was sitting out one afternoon enjoying the rains when down below, under the tree, were this boy and girl. The girl was from my neighbourhood. I have seen her here and about for the past 4-5 years. She is now an engineering student. The boy was one of her classmates.

Now the contrast, this girl was really pretty and had translucent skin. I would stare at her with awe whenever she passed me. Only stare. This boy was a bum-looking slum-dweller. Don't even ask.

They were speaking in English. He asked her about his proposal. That made my ears go up.

She ignored the q. He persisted - asked again. After a pause, she answered..

This janma it may not be possible because she has many responsibilities but she will surely accept his proposal next janma.

Wow. I was bowled.  What a nice sweet way to reject someone. I am sure it will sink in later and he may cry and all that. But for the moment he was the king of the world.

This story has an interesting part 2. Maybe sometime...

#love #nextlife 

HOW I MET MY WIFE AND SOME SIDE STORIES | hguy.blogspot.com

This man was sitting quietly in the corner window seat and trying to see out as the train left Mumbai Central Station-on its way to Chennai. The AC-III tier always seems cramped; he would have preferred sleeper.

Soon all took their respective places; it was really cramped now.

Everyone becomes friends real quick on train journeys.

So you are newly married, asked our man.

Yes, answered the girl, six months.

I was once newly married, said our man and went deep.

What happened, asks the girl.

Sad story; I don't want to tell.

Tell tell na, prodded an oldish man.

Seriously, you want to know, asks our man.

Ya ya, was the chorus.

Ok listen.

I met this girl in Mumbai, and we got married.

Then she tells me she is a Tamilian and that we should go and meet her parents.

Ok.

So we boarded a train. And when it reaches TN border, she whispers, my parents are not too happy about this marriage. So

So.. So... what do I do now?

And they are not in Chennai; we are from Vellore (the next station).

But I bought Chennai ticket. 

Well, Vellore is the crime capital of India. I think so. For when we reached Vellore, the platform was full of her relatives. Her brother brought 10 friends, and her father brought 4 friends. The mother brought her sister, who brought her husband, who called all his relatives.

I refused to leave my seat. She went running to the door, and it started amma, appa, chinna. All that.

Then she brought them in to meet me; I was like ayoo ayoo.

Amma Appa meet Rajesh Reddy, my husband.

They give me a long look, and then, booo her mom starts crying. My wife na just said amma amma twice, and that shut her. 

You can't talk to ur mom like this, began her father.

Appa train is about to leave. You have to go..

You are not coming.

Maybe later.

They disembark.

God, those were the worst three minutes of my life.

We reach Chennai and check into a hotel.

You booked on Oyo, asked this young fellow sitting on that single seater.

No, I walked in with luggage.

Later, we went to a nearby temple, Madurai Meenakshi or Kamakshi—I don't know—and got married. Again.

Madurai Meenakshi temple is in Madurai, corrected the oldish man.

What happened after that?

Went to Hyderabad to introduce my parents to their new daughter-in-law.

Then

My mother put kerosene on herself  and burnt herself, said our man.

Gasps all around.

A head jutted out of the top berth, and she said, No, she didn't. She was the sweetest woman I ever met.

and went back to reading her book.

This woman was sitting with the group, and midway, she left and went up with a book. 

You, his wife, asked the fairly newlywed guy.

Yeah. its karma.

Come down and tell us more na.

What to tell. There is nothing, she said.

There is so much to tell, said our man.

We had two sons. Both her chamchas. Both married Tamilians. Ok, one was love, but the other was arranged by her. Pointing up.

No, both were love marriages. came a voice from above.

At least the daughter married my choice. said the old man.

Na, that too was love. 

Our man is shocked.

We just let you believe that.

I knew he was a useless fellow.

He is not useless; he is a police officer like our daughter.

How did u 2 meet , asked the newlywed girl to the voice upstairs.

I was his student.

Gasps all around.

But only 5 years difference, our man tried justifying.

6, came the voice from upstairs.

THE FIRST TIME I HEARD CD MUSIC (along with a teeny tiny story) | hguy.blogspot.com

The first CD music I heard was 'Rangeela. Intoxicating, to say the least.

It was in H’s car. We met that evening. In I got - lovely music plus there was a girl. Intros over. We began moving towards BHEL. This was the first time I was on the Jubilee Hill road. A slim tar road till CHIREC and then no road at all.

AR Rehman and CD quality - plus a girl - gave a magical feel to the music. This girl is credited with sending a friend of mine around the bend.

Maybe I'll tell that story someday.

Poor chap, he never completely recovered.

This girl had a knack for dealing with boys - on her terms. Those gentle touches and those longing looks made one feel that they were 'made for each other. The way she rubs her body against yours in a restaurant - accidentally or those touches while walking—had guys tightly wound around her little finger. She won my heart the moment she opened her purse and pulled out a chocolate bar – only for me.

I met her daily for the next few days (I was working in Delhi and had to go back), and I must say she was almost getting under my skin. The way she leaned her body against yours in a packed car. Try visualizing it. The car was a Maruti 800. Two guys at the back, H driving and me in the passenger seat. Now she decides to slip in beside me in the front- when the best was to have 3 in the back. Imagine. The bumpy ride until we dropped her off at HIG.

Years later, I met her at the wedding of a friend (from an altogether different group). She was the bride.

Coming to the point, CD music was, in fact, a vast improvement over cassette music. And AR Rehman-type music is well suited for CD. The next music I heard was - Deewana. Great great songs.

We heard 'Rangeela and 'Deewana so many times then that it is now written in as a partner in good time - not to forget that girl.

SIBLING TALES | hguy.blogspot.com

Sibling dynamics can be weird. 

Some of the best memories have been blotted out by the churn of time. 

My sis travels thru Patancheru to work. The other day, she mentioned that she crossed Sangeeta cinema (surprised that this is still standing). This is not Sangeet of Secunderabad, this is Sangeeta of Patancheru.

Later that day she says that I took her to a movie here. Sanam Teri Kasam. On my bicycle. She sat in the front. I said hell no. That cant be.

I remember seeing this movie with a friend. Coz we discussed it long afterward. 

But my sister didn't leave it. She called up my bro and he confirmed the story. And added that he was there too. He sat pillion.

I am trying to visualise this. She must have been 8-9. Skinny as hell. My brother and me. 

It brings back the good ole days.

#siblingstories #bhelrcpuram #bhelhyd

THIS LITTLE NEIGHBOR GIRL | hguy.blogspot.com

There was this little girl in my neighborhood. She was in class two and chatty. Till class five she would come and give me the village report. Then she suddenly stopped talking to me. You know when girls start wearing their school skirts till their ankles, they are told to stop talking to boys.

 

 

 

Well, I did see her for the next two-three years and then she vanished. Her parents are still here. I thought, cha, she is not yet in 10th and they got her married.

 

 

 

She returned five years later. With Hubby and two kids in tow. A boy and a girl. The small boy was round, I mean totally round and ran around naked on the road calling after his big sister.

 

 

What happened was this. It was not her parents, but she ran away and got married. She married a gym employee when she was in class 8.

 

 

And now she has returned.

 

 

As it turned out the hubby was not some local dada but a qualified yoga instructor. Now working in a nearby school. The whole two years of the pandemic he drew a salary while the rest of us silently suffered.

 

 

The daughter is now a good friend of mine and brings me all the local gossip. But it will stop when she reaches class five na.

 

WHY DONATING BLOOD IS IMPORTANT | hguy.blogspot.com

 

I was a big-time blood donor. My hostel phone number was in the hospital register and I could be contacted once in 3 months for blood. My blood group was O+ve and I understand that they needed it regularly.

 

 

One night at about 9 pm we get this call for blood and 2-3 of us are ready to go.

 

We hostellers would hire cycles to go for 2nd show movies. It normally costs 1 INR an hour to hire these cycles but for the second show, it costs 2 INR total-we return the bike in the morning. I found one such guy and took a ride to the hospital. I had to drive doubles. His main problem was whether he will get a ticket for the Balakrishna movie or not.

 

 

 

At the hospital, I realized that the urgency for blood was for a full-term pregnant woman. I gave the blood, ate my mandatory 3 glucose biscuits, and drank a glass of glucose water.

 

As I was about to leave, this elderly woman comes and thanks me profusely. And asks my name. She is the mother of the pregnant woman and promises to name the to-be-born child after me – if it’s a boy.

 

So if you see another Hemant in the Andhra-Telangana belt, it may be the boy with my blood in his veins.

FEW GOOD MEN | hguy.blogspot.com

Corporate leaders are mostly thugs in a suit. They rise bcoz they are the chaallu types. Their whole career is a testimony of doing the wrong thing. 

Anyways.

I was working at HSBC BPO in Bangalore when, one day, I found myself with a gigantic lady in the lift. Not fat but tall. She smiled and nodded her head. I responded. Then she said I have never seen you here. I blinked. This was the maximum interaction I had with this American. BTW did I tell you she headed Bangalore?

But that’s not the story.

Right near our gate. Login time. Came this man in a bicycle. In a dhothi. And sold some of the most heavenly samosas ever made. The tedious journey to work was compensated by this one samosa. We had to stand in a queue to be served. I saw this big American once or twice standing in the queue.

Then the usual. Police come and harass the old man. You are blocking the traffic. One day right in front of all of us, the policeman kicks the fellow’s cycle and all the samosa fell into the gutter. All for 10 rupees mamul. 

The big lady didn’t take to this kindly. Three months later. Right next to the gate. Inside the compound was a cute new permanent structure and inside it was the old man selling his wares.

Not all corporate honchos are thugs.

STREET FOODS OF INDIA | hguy.blogspot.com

1. Paani Puri (also called Ghapchup or Gol Gappa)

It's a pan-India dish.  The puri is common everywhere. Made of atta or sooji. Flatbread fried till it puffs up. But it is the paani that makes the difference and this is what makes it mouth-watering.  Paani is the watery liquid added into the puri. Usually two kinds. One sweetish, the other green chili hot that should make you cry. 
So a hole is made in the puffed-up flat bread (simple thumb action no rocket science) and filled with mashed potato or peas or boondi mixed with chaat masala. This is then dipped in the liquid. Either one or both, depending on your taste.
You can take the dish one level higher if you add ice to the liquid.
Goes without saying, a very unhygienic dish.

2. Vada Pav

It's an east meets west dish. Pav is western for sure. English but most likely Portuguese. That's cut in half and a batata vada (potato bonda or bajji or pakoda) is placed in it. You add chutneys and powders to give it your special flavor but the best accompaniment is deep-fried green chilly whole.
A very Maharashtra dish.

3. Gobi Manchurian 

This is a created-in-India made-in-India Chinese dish. Cauliflower aka Gobi is chopped into bite-sized bits and soaked in a mixture of corn-starch, maida, and masalas and salt then fried to a nice crispy brown. From here it can take two paths. One dry, the other gravy. You saute it light to make it dry or wet it a little more for gravy. You have soy sauce, tomato ketchup, and chili sauce here to play with. 
We Bangaloreans had only this one dish for an evening outing for donkey's years. Now we have everything including momos and waffles.



4. Jalebi

More than what it contains, it's the tools and process that should be noted. First, you need a cloth pouch (1 ft by 1 ft) usually made of muslin with a hole in the center. Then you need a kadia that is special to jalebi making. It's flat bottom but low rise. Now you make the batter (all Indian batter is the same, almost) and keep it overnight. Place this semi-solid semi-liquid batter in the cloth and use the pressure of your palm to make small concentric circles in the flat bottom kadia now with hot oil. 
In another vessel make chasni.  Sugar syrup. Boil water and put sugar. It's that simple. Don't do rocket science here. But if you want to, learn about 1-tar 2-tar that's 1-string 2-string consistency.
Turn over the jalebi that is cooking in the aforementioned kadai and let it become sort of crispy brown. Remember the batter should start of white. If its not then artificial color has been added. beware. Now take it out, drain the oil and dip it in the sugar syrup. Not too long, 20 seconds at best - to preserves the crispy nature of jelebis. 
It's ready to serve. 
A yellow-orange, slightly transparent sweet.
We have cousins of jalebi called Imarti and Jhangeri. 




5. Bhel Puri

Take a handful of puffed rice (murmura), and mix it with tamarind juice, green chili juice, and chutneys. You get Bhel Puri with that sweet sour tangy taste that's so addictive. 

Did I mention it is low-calorie? Add onions and kothmir and top it with sev, boondi or ground nuts or small pieces of potatoes.

Its available all India and by god, tastes different everywhere. The best Bhel is from Mumbai.

6. Egg

Boiled egg, bread omelet, egg rice, egg roll, egg paratha, anda burger. This brings me to the fact that egg is the king of Indian street food.  You can add it any where. Maggi, biryani, half boiled, half fried, bull's eye, curry, or scrambled.

7. Butta

Corn on a cob sold either roasted or boiled. Add fresh lime juice to take it one level up.

8.    Samosa

Boil potatoes, and skin and mash them and add masalas and fry a little. Add peas, chole, carrots anything that gets you going. 

Then press down roti puri dough- small size, cut in half. In each half put some allo mash and fold to get a triangular pyramid. Now deep fry it and serve it with khatta chutney or ketchup.

You have the hyderabadi small samosa. Instead of allo (potato) you have pyaz (onion) fried here. These are crispier too. And with a totally different taste. Sold mostly in the Muslim areas and the Irani cafes.

Then you have halvai samosa. Big giants made richer with Kaju or Kismis. 

You can even make it non-veg by adding keema or small pieces of mutton or chicken.

9. Bajji aka Pakoda

Take big green mirchi (chillies) dipped in besan batter and deep fry it. Well, in the same batter you can dip sliced brinjal, spinach, capsicum, potato, bread, paneer and anything else you can think of including chicken. In the end, if nothing is left, the batter itself is deep fried to make boondi or plain fritters. 

There on you add accompaniment, chopped onions, and chutneys. 

A slight variation is masala or channa vada which is an entirely different animal.

You can value add to the samosa by dipping it in chasni aka sugar syrup or make samosa ragda with it.

Millions eke out a living selling these items roadside in India.

#streetfood #india

LIFE CAN BE SO UNPREDICTABLE

My neighbours were a couple with two small kids. One day there was some hoo haaa. I had just returned from work. And was ready for my old monk and Thums up. 

The hubby was missing. 

Well, he returned four days later. Said he was kidnapped, tied up, and kept in a room at Nandi Hills. He escaped and returned home. But dont give police complaint. Said he.


Anyways, I learn that he is from a poor family and she from a stinking rich one. Arranged marriage. When you marry for money you have to earn every penny.

He wanted to open a two-wheeler dealership. The woman's family disagreed. You just sit here quietly. This, I believe, is the current tension between the two. He applied and was allotted said dealership. But things were just not going his way.



One morning there was another hoo haa again but louder. So I ran. And into the bedroom was led. Only to see the man hanging by the fan. I asked for a kitchen knife, climbed the bed and freed him, and lay him on the cot. He was warm and still twitching. My cab came so I had to run. 


That evening I got the news that the man had died.


One day I went to this Honda Activa showroom. It was not like a showroom but more like a factory with rows and rows of vehicles getting ready to be delivered to the customer. And there I saw the woman. Being called maam and all that. 

She is the owner of one of the biggest Activa dealerships in India.
 

A DOCTOR I KNEW - hguy.blogspot.com

When new to Bangalore, I was introduced to this doctor. He closed his clinic at 4 and we all went for drinks. 

Then again I met him at 4 one day and he closed the clinic and said lets drink.  Then another time I met him at 11am. He was getting ready to close the clinic when I told him its too early to drink. 

Since then I met him at an appropriate time of 7...730 which was his usual closing time.

He would drink two quarter whiskey and then one peg for the road. 

I had a quarter Old Monk. The quality of the drink has gone from bad to worse. But it cost only 23/- thats why.

One morning he called and asked me to come to his clinic. I went. He closed the clinic but this time it was not to drink. He drove his Primier Padmini to Horamavu. Which was then a  desolate area on the outskirts of Bangalore. More like a forest area. He stopped the car and went to meet a group of people waiting for him. I was sitting in the car. He returned with a suitcase. He drove to this house and handed me the suitcase. Go and give it to the person in the house. Well, this was all new to me. What was in it. Drugs. Will i get caught. I rang the door bell. A middle aged woman opened the door. I gave her the suitcase and told her that the guy in the car asked me to give it to her.  She looked at the car. And then went inside her home and closed the door. We both drove back and then drinks, of course.

A month later the doc passed away. Galloping cancer.

[To Be Continued...]

Ahobilam Trip | hguy.blogspot.com

In the year 2007, I went on an adventure pilgrimage to Ahobilam.

 

Ahobilam is a temple town in Andhra Pradesh situated on the eastern ghat where we have the dense Nallamala forest.

 

A hilly forest range to deal with.

  

Plus, they say lord Narsimha first appeared here. Please be sure you know this story and the story of his son Prahlada.

 

We spent a night here in the guest house and visited the temples here. There are quite a few. Then we went up the cliff face to the place which was basically Prahlada classroom. Then we saw the ‘urgra stambha, from which they say NarSimha sprang up.

 

We kept going higher and higher. Which is very difficult for me. I gave up many times and wanted to return. But no…. carried on and eventually reached the peak.

  

While returning home we had another interesting experience. We stopped at an unknown temple at around 9 and asked if we could sit there and have our supper (which the Ahobilam mutt people sweetly gave us as a parting gift).

 

They allowed us to sit on a high platform and have our food but soon changed the condition to say that they will give us food. And gave us a lovely meal. Including a great desert.

 

Later, the head of the temple came to meet us and invited us to see the temple. He took us underground and through a series of tunnels - this scared the hell out of me - to show the inner sanctum sanatorium. Then told us very few people have seen this.

 

I just can’t remember the name of this temple.

 

Anyway, a memorable trip.