"Cyclic Integral of Heat Over Temperature"

The human brain is an amazing learning machine. Nothing equals the human brain when it comes to learning from experience; although, some human brains seem to be gifted more in this department than others, but that is not what I want to rant about.

As a child, life is simple in many ways and hence happier in some ways. As one 'grows up' the complex concepts begin to dawn upon oneself and it opens a plethora of pleasures and disappointments.

I remember as a kid I never appreciated some vegetables and their taste and nutritious value. I hardly liked any bell peppers and absolutely abhorred the exotic ones like the ridge gourd (doDkaa); but as I grew up or grew older I should say, I started experimenting with them a little more and now I absolutely love these vegetables. Also, even though the nutritious value is not directly evident to me, I am able to empirically appreciate the way these veggies seem to energize each and every cell of my body. Now I exactly know why my parents urged me to eat my veggies. It is so proverbial to ask your children to "eat your vegetables"; but now I know it comes out of the parents' own appreciation of nutritious food. They are at an age where they have begun to truly understand the benefits and wonder why their children don't.

I attribute this change in attitude towards vegetables to both the evolution of my own brain and the other physiological changes in my body.

When I was a young adult of 20 years age, I was studying Mechanical Engineering at the College of Engineering Pune, India. I and a close friend of mine got interested in 'Thermodynamics'. Very early in the semester the subject of 'Thermodynamics' seemed very arid and desolate; mostly due to the attendance in the class; but we hung on and thanks to the brilliant teacher (Professor Domkundwar) we got fascinated with the topic and in all modesty really understood the various concepts in 'Heat Engines', 'Refrigeration' etc.

That was the year when Professor Domkundwar taught us the concept of 'Entropy'. It was a new concept and then very hard to understand. It seemed weird that the 'Entropy of the universe always increases'. We even solved some silly mathematical questions based on the concept of Entropy; but not because we really understood the concept, but because we memorized the mathematical formulas involved in calculating Entropy.

So our frustrated young souls one day caught up with the Professor after class and directly posed him the question...."Sir, What exactly is Entropy?". He looked at us with pity and said..."It is very difficult to explain Entropy. I can tell you that mathematically it is the cyclic integral of heat over Temperature, but that won't mean much to you. One day you guys will just get it." and he walked away leaving us in disbelief. We mulled over the answer for some days puffing away cigarette smoke, inadvertently increasing the Entropy of the universe. We didn't have a choice; No matter what we did the Entropy increased.

It has been 17 years since and I don't claim to completely understand what Entropy is, but I am pretty sure that I have a feel for it. I have a feel for why it always increases and doesn't decrease, ever. Now, I also understand what the Professor meant when he said ..."one day you guys will just get it."

I am excited by the prospect of 'getting' many more such concepts as I grow older.

I took up golf when I was 33 years old. It is a damn hard game as it is and starting late in life doesn't help. Initially I took a few lessons with Matt who is the Golf Pro at the Los Lagos golf course in San Jose, California. While working on my swing and watching me get frustrated trying to hit the sweet spot consistently -- even with the fitted clubs -- Matt one day said to me ..."Golf swing is a complex phenomenon. You keep practicing the good things and one day you will have an epiphany and just get it." I still remember that sunny Saturday afternoon at the Los Lagos golf course. Matt had reminded me of Professor Domkundwar and had boosted my optimism about my golf swing. One day I will just get it.

I don't know when I will get it really. Does anyone ever get it? May be Tiger Woods does.

So when someone on the tee, after hitting a bad slice to the right asks me "do you ever get this golf swing thing?" I am going to calmly reply..."Yes I do, I finally get it...It is simple really...It is the cyclic integral of heat over temperature!"

Come'on Barry!!

In his stand up routine Hugh Fink talks about the roles of the first base coach in Baseball. I too never really understood what the first base coach really does there. Hugh Fink is right in pointing out that the first base coach usually chews on tobacco and silently encourages the batter. "Come'on Bobby!!"

That might as well be true, but this post is not about the first base coaches. Today Barry Bonds hit his 756th home run; against the Washington Nationals team when he sent one over the left center field.

All the controversy surrounding the alleged steroid use and the asterisk mark against Barry's name is astounding. I wonder if the opposing teams fans would boo Barry if he were a good old Christian white boy, who called for God when he uttered every other word during the press conferences, or would it be the same if Barry were as dear to the press as say Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan. Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan are these classic good boys who give what the press people want. They utter these mundane answers which the press likes to hear, at the risk of being boring. I am sure they know, but they prefer to comply than be bothered by the press.

Barry on the other hand is different. He is almost hostile to the press and is hated by the journalist. Since he got close to Henry Aaron's record in the past two weeks I have read so many articles bashing Bonds and how the world doesn't care about his record. I think all of it is made up by the reporters who I am sure at one point or another had a not so pleasant interaction with Barry.

What happened to good old 'innocent until proven guilty'? Barry might as well be guilty of using steroids. Although I am not sure if steroids help you improve your hand eye co-ordination? Steroids might help you stay healthy longer and play for a long time. That would be a definite advantage. But until it is proven otherwise I would like to give the benefit to Barry.

So, Congratulations Barry!! It is a great feat and asterisk or not you would be remembered by baseball fraternity for a long time to come.

Most people would argue if it is fair to give Barry the credit because of these allegations against him. I will tell you what is not fair....a guy in Mets uniform catching the ball worth at least a million dollars! that is not fair at all!!

"Come'on Barry!!"

QOTD

The then aspiring golf teacher once asked the great Ben Hogan if he could watch Ben hit balls on the range and the taciturn Ben nodded. After Ben was done hitting balls the aspiring teacher gathered courage and went up to Ben Hogan and asked him if he lived by anything and Ben said, he lived by 10 two letter words...

"If it is to be, it is up to me"

keep up, buddy!

This sunday Roger Federer won his 5th straight Wimbledon and his 11th major. What a feat! and what a match it was with Rafa.

Not so long ago, I remember watching Sampras win his 14th major, when he beat Andre Agassi to win the 2002 U.S. Open. Then John McEnroe had wondered if in our lifetimes we would see someone break Sampras' record of 14 majors; and here we are, almost sure that Roger Federer will do it and that too soon.

I got up early Sunday morning to watch the much awaited final between Nadal and Federer. After the match began, during the first commercial break, Nike unveiled their new commercial featuring Federer and Tiger woods. You can watch it here.

As the commercial began, I realized that the voice over was Tiger Woods' voice and remember wondering if Tiger had only agreed to give his voice over for his new 'buddy'. But the punch line comes at the end when after praising Roger as the most feared Tennis player and winning ten majors and counting Tiger goes "And my name is Tiger Woods and I have 12 majors and counting. So Keep up Buddy!".

I thought it was very cute.

It got me thinking though; Is it easier to win 12 golf majors or is it easier to win 12 tennis majors? Or 14 tennis majors like Sampras has or 18 golf majors like Mr. Nicklaus has won?

If I present this question to most of my folks in India (or generally to most of the people I know, anywhere), they would emphatically say "Tennis majors of course and that's that!". But having indulged myself in both the sports, I think the answer is not that easy. The vulgar opinion about golf, especially in the 'hood that I grew up in is very... well, vulgar. Golf is thought of as a sport for spoiled rich people -- which it no doubtedly is -- where you ride in a golf cart all day occasionally hitting at a ball; or a game where a caddy does all the work for you and you just walk around wasting valuable time, which you might as well have wisely devoted to philanthropy.

Golf, at a competitive level is hardly that. It is demanding, both physically and mentally, and is a true test of strength, focus and resilience. At 18 majors Mr. Nicklaus is still the man to beat and Tiger Woods has a good chance of equalling or breaking his record.

Folks argue about golf's stature as a sport that needs physical and mental strength. Some arguments include points like ... 'the ball is sitting right there and nobody is trying to hit it at you' or ... 'you dont have to run to the ball or sprint or jump or do any such physically demanding action to hit the ball' and the likes. Golf Swing is not considered as a physically demanding action at all. Golf and athleticism don't go together.

It is just too hard to compare the two sports. Tennis might arguably require more athleticism than golf due to the fact that you are playing against someone and tennis puts more apparent work load on your joints.

But golf needs strength and suppleness in equal amounts. Just try hitting a golf ball three hundred yards in any direction and we'll worry about hitting the fairways later. This June I had the opportunity to watch pro-golfers at the memorial tournament. I followed Tiger for a while and was amazed at how much club-head speed he can generate. Adam Scott hits a six iron over 200 yards and Tiger hit a fairway wood 320 yards. Doing this day-in and day-out at that level requires a sound mind, almost zen-like.

It is possible that Tiger wins at least one of the remaining two majors this year. Then it would be 13 and counting. Roger seems all set to win the U.S. Open in September, unless Rafa has different plans for him. That would be 12 and counting for Roger.

I wonder if Nike has a commercial ready when and if Roger overtakes Tiger and gets a chance to say "Now, who's falling behind, buddy?"

Proof by Mutual Consent

Impressionism, my arse
Hell, O Well, Actually
Impressionism, my tight arse
Boundaries blurred casually.

Neo-realism, eh?
Is that a real word?
Or, is it just a microcosm?
of all the cynicism?

Surrealism,
Now that can't be real?
By definition, I mean
Or is it just a dream?

Neo-classical,
C'mon now, stop being anal,
But I really like that shit,
You know it's a hit.

Dapoli

Konkan has always been fascinating. When I was about 10 years of age, we had taken a trip to 'hasOL'. It was a sort of a pilgrimage to visit the 'family deity'. It was about 29 of us in a private bus; grand parents and grand children and all. I don't remember the temple as much as I do the topography of the place. The jungles, the farms, the houses and of course the sea; especially at 'gaNapatipuLe'. The way the tides bathed in moon-light made a lasting impression on me.

This time on my trip to India my girl-friend's parents suggested we go take a trip to Dapoli for a couple of days. Taking two days out of my already crammed schedule was tough. But we took the trip anyways.

Kaka is a very enthusiastic driver. He loves to drive his car on long trips. I just had to sit beside him and seep in the views. We took the 'varandhaa ghat' way to finally join the Mumbai-Goa highway. The road was at its worst. Some patches were really bad.

We stopped at a temple to take some pictures and the local priest rushed to us. There were a few other gentlemen there. They seemed excited to see us. One of them was particulary friendly. He wanted a ride to the nearby village. He wanted to visit his daughter there. He was very smart and he regaled us with his views on politics and the inevitable evils of the 'generation-gap'. Interestingly his name was Shivaji Malusare--he introduced himself when we dropped him at his destination--and he also told us that he was a direct descendant of Tanaji Malusare.

Once we reached the Mumbai-Goa highway, the road condition was much better. Two lane highway it is and that too quite busy I should say, but the ride was comfortable and kaka is a good driver. After a while we left the main highway and took a local highway to go to Dapoli. We were passing through towns with some charming areas and some shanty ones. We even asked for directions a couple of times. That's the advantage of driving in India. You can stop and ask for directions. Actually you kind of have to; for lack of proper maps and markings.

We reached Dapoli around 2:30 p.m. in the afternoon. The resort was named 'Sagar Savali', loosely translated as 'The shadow of the ocean'. We were greeted by the person who manages this place. It has only 6 to 7 rooms in the conical shaped tower and then four cottages next to it. It is a few yards from the arabian sea and the beach is kind of secluded. The two days I was there, I didn't see too many people there. The exapnse of the beach is amazing, almost a mile or so to walk.

We had a short snack at the hotel and went to our rooms to take a quick nap. We had started early from Pune and the drive was kind of tiring. Kaka must have been tired. He drove alone all the way. After a quick nap, we got up and had some tea and immediately hit the beach. The first thing I noticed about this place, was the lack of any pollution. While in Pune I was definitely bothered by the amount of pollution on the streets. I had a scratchy throat in all my stay in India, except for those two days in Dapoli.

I have always been strangely attracted to the ocean. There is something profound and infinite about it. As soon as I stepped on the beach, I felt the vastness of the Arabian sea. It was low tide and I usually dont like the ocean at low tide, but this beach was something else. The sky was clear; there were a few boats a few 100 yards in the sea, probably returning from the day's work. Fishing undoubtedly must be the source of livelihood for many people here. I knew I was in for a beautiful sunset. Years ago, I was in Kanyakumari -- the southern-most tip of the Indian peninsula -- and our train had reached there around sunset and we all rushed to the beach to watch the sunset, only to find out the setting sun hiding behind uninvited clouds.

But that day was mine. There were no evil clouds around. Moreover, since it was February, there were less chances of sudden gathering of moisture on the horizon to eclipse the sun. I watched with humility and amazement as the mighty sun started descending on the horizon. The sun had a definite date with the ocean, it seemed. The waves were periodically hitting my feet; it was hypnotic. I walked across the waves looking at the sun. I walked and walked and while I walked I got a distinct feeling that I was not moving at all. That reminded me of Roger Water's immortal words...
"And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking;
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older,
shorter of breath and one day closer to death"

It was nice getting away from my get away. There were other highlights to this trip. the second day we did a short hike to visit a very old Vishnu temple. The temple was very pleasant, like all temples are. The hike was through beetle-nut and jack fruit farms. The Konkan soil is abundantly rich and very conducive to grow various different types of fruit; mangoes, jackfruit, beetle nut, indian version of gooseberry (awla) and many others.

At 'Saagar Savali' the food was fresh and tasty; especially the fish. We made sure we paid compliments to the cook; after all the almighty went only as far as making the fish, it was left to the cook to make it taste heavenly.

Clarence and Coach Knight

Tuesday November 28th 2006 was unusually warm for Ohio. I had taken two days off after the thanks giving weekend to complete some domestic stuff that I can do only on weekdays. The warm weather however prompted some Golf. Someone previously had recommended the 'Cumberland' golf course in Pataskala, Ohio. So I reached there around 10:45 in the a.m.

The club house attendent was very nice and I immediately felt welcome on the course. I paid my green fee and saddled up on the golf cart. I drove around looking for the practice putting green. I found it next to the first tee.

A threesome was already practising putts and they asked me what my tee-time was. I replied back, that I had just walked on and they should go ahead if they are ready. I was in no hurry.

So I practised a few putts, felt good about my putting and did some jumping jacks to get my blood flowing. Stiff bodies make no good swings, I reminded myself.

The road to the clubhouse ran between the clubhouse and the first tee. Suddenly from the parking lot across the road, I heard someone yell "Are you looking for someone to play with?". It took me a few seconds to realize that the question was directed at me. He was a silver haired gentleman dressed impeccably in golf attire. I yelled back, "Sure, Do you want to join me?". He took a few minutes to get his shoes and pay the green fees and joined me on the first tee. We introduced ourselves and I learned that his name was 'Claire'.

He said "I am going to play Senior's tees, if you don't mind. I am 74 years old and I cannot enjoy the game if I play from the long tees. I am not able to hit it long enough anymore." He added "My son told me........'Dad why don't you swallow your pride and play the senior's tees' and I agree with him."

I told Claire that it was my first time on this course and I would need some help from him to play it well. He took up upon him. When we drove to the tee box of every golf hole he gave me tips on where to hit the tee shot and whether there was danger right or left.

The greens were fast and my putting confidence was nearly destroyed by the time I finished the first hole. Claire warned me that in summer the putting greens were like a glass surface. They are very hard and fast. I couldn't imagine putting on those greens in summer.

Somehow the conversation turned to St. Andrews and he regaled me with his golf trip to Scotland. He had taken that trip with Bobby Knight and some other friends. He also told me he knew Coach Bobby Knight very well. Bobby Knight was fresh in my mind, since the November 13th controversy when the TV cameras caught him raising a player's chin up while he was talking to him. I also remembered the famous footage we see, when Coach Knight threw a chair across the court to protest a referee's call.

We moved along the course briskly and got to know each other. He talked about how proud he was of his son who worked for GM and how he himself worked in different positions in various schools ranging from an athletic director, to basketball coach, to a principal. "Life has been good to me" he mused.

I had started liking the guy since we met. He was very grandfatherly. He encouraged me whenever I got a par, which was not too often. He encouraged me, even when I didn't play well. He himself got one birdie and his eyes lit up. "You have been leaving those putts below all day" he told me on the 14th green. "Now get this one in, will you?" he almost ordered; but there was a certain kindness and camaraderie in that.

I opened up to him and told him about my journey so far. How I had moved to Ohio from California, what do I do for work? etc. "PhD in philosophy! That is great. That is good stuff" he exclaimed when I told him about my girl friend.

"So how's Coach Knight like, in person?" I asked him after my second par on the 12th. I almost knew the answer to this. "Oh! He's a great great guy."; and then Claire praised how the coach is approachable and doesn't smoke or drink and is just a regular guy, with the biggest heart.

As we finished up the 18th, he sincerely wished me good luck and he equally sincerely expressed that he hoped that I and my girl friend make Columbus our home. I wished him the best too.

As I drove off from the course, I saw him in my rear view mirror driving off in his cadillac in the other direction. I thought to myself, "He is a good golfer for 74 years young" and wished he doesn't break 100 when it comes to the game bigger than golf.

creative writing II

another gem i heard the other day!

mayor randall winston rides a horse to meet his daughter in central park, to try and save a souring relationship. she exclaims "Daddy! what are you doing here?"

and he goes...

"I got nowhere to be; or not to be; if that is the question!"

got more than a chuckle out of me!

creative writing

I always wondered if I had a flair for 'creative writing'. I was watching 'Office' on 'NBC' this evening and heard one of the characters say this

We deceive them
so as to not hurt them
that way we honor them.

Thought it was a great line(s).

May be some day I'll take a class so that I can write better stories and travelogues. It might be too late for TV or any other media. Or may be not.

Until then,

no mercy!

easy trampling of thought evades her;
tingling shingles feel upside down.

fading night brings silence home;
my ears feel deafening sound.

mercy i thought, is merciless;
hammered nails raise the ground.

tomorrow will be another day;
when i face the ruffled hound.

Enlightenment

"How would I know if I am enlightened?" one less mortal asked me from across the table! He was probably expecting a chuckle out of me, or at least an appreciation of his smart ass! He got neither. Instead, I just ordered another beer. The waitress seemed to understand my disposition. She obliged.

"What do you think enlightenment is?" he continued, insulting my indifference. I shrugged a 'I wish I knew' and continued to appreciate the dark amber color in my emptying glass. 'Alcohol' I thought, must be so crucial for enlightenment, as a topic of discussion, I mean.

Few more minutes passed. Now he had a certain look on his face, which humans -- and probably chimps too -- get when they appear to be thinking hard. He was probably regretting his broaching of the subject. I felt relieved. The patio area of the pub was getting busier. Few souls poured in, probably looking for happiness or at the very least someone to hit on.

"You seem to be at a loss of words for someone who claims to be enlightened" he said. He didn't show any signs of retreat. That was definitely un-called for. We come to this pub quite so often and drown ourselves in Newcastle and then sometimes share our deepest secrets with each other. I was afraid I might have shared my recent revelations with him. I hadn't imagined him taking me for my word. 'Poor Bastard!' I pitied him; Alcohol had definitely tampered with his judgment.

Now, I felt the need to speak. So I ordered another beer after I gulped down the one in front of me, as if I were in a milk commercial. I think, after banging my now empty glass down on the table, I even smiled looking at a fake camera, as if to show my strong calcium laden teeth.

"There are a lot of misconceptions about enlightenment!" I remarked. He thought I was joking. I could see how he could misconstrue my remark as funny. I don't blame him. There is something in my personality, which makes other human beings around me, always assume that I am saying something funny. That doesn't mean they find it funny, but they certainly assume that I am trying to say something funny.

"Plus, I thought I told you in confidence about my revelations the other day, remember?" I continued the scolding tone in my voice. He smirked; As if to assume that he had a trump card in his hand and could use it against me anytime he wished; but today didn't seem like it. "I'll keep that for some other time" he gestured only by slightly tilting his head.

"But you said you finally understood the difference between saguNa(with attributes) and nirguNa(devoid of all attributes)?" he almost shouted at me. Luckily the tables around us were busy guzzling beer and were least concerned about consciousness. 'Half knowledge is worse than no knowledge' some higher mortal once said and she was right. I am at the receiving end of this adage, all the time.

"No dumb-ass!" I continued matching his decibel level, "I said I finally understood why the human mind feels the need to differentiate between the two, when, in reality they are the same -- err, it is the same thing, I mean!". There was no use barking at him like this. He completely ignored my remark as if I were talking to the 'Guinness for breakfast' sign behind him.

"Have you heard the one about this monk?" he asked me. He always asks me that when his blood alcohol level is more than 0.1 percent -- by volume -- and then without waiting for my response, he continued with this old joke...
"A monk walks up to a hot dog vendor, hands him a $20 bill and asks 'Can you make me one with everything?', and the hot dog vendor goes, 'Yes! But change should come from within'"

And like always the joke followed by the obnoxious laughter of his. It was time to leave. So I took care of the check, grabbed his keys and offered him a ride. After all less mortals don't deserve to drive with that much of spirit in their blood.

Synonyms Govern, Allright?

Ever since my cousins introduced me to the concept of Graffiti, I have been fascinated by it. At its worst it is vandalism and should be out-lawed, as it most certainly is in many places on earth. At its best, it is funny, witty and provides a much needed laugh in today's weird wide busy world.

What is Graffiti? some of you might ask. The Merriam Webster's dictionary defines it as usually unauthorized writing or drawing on a public surface. But it is more than that. There is usually a message in that scribbling, a political opinion, a pun or just a funny remark.

About a decade ago, when I first came to the United States I looked for Nigel Rees' Graffiti books in frenzy. I had looked for them in almost all book stores in Bangalore, where I lived before. I couldn't find them. I desparately wanted them. So I researched the internet and found a used copy somewhere in a used book store in England. I wanted to have it. So I got it after shelling out $30 for a set (of four) of these teeny tiny books! $30 well spent.

Thanks to Mr. Rees, I get the much needed laughter when I browse through the books. Here I mention some of my favorites.

Nigel Rees, I hope I get paid next time scribbled an unknown artist, perhaps alluding to the fact that the best part of Graffiti is that it is anonymous.

I hate Graffiti was printed in an elevator to keep patrons from scribbling on its walls and somebody had added beneath I hate all Italian food.

Graffiti is a universal phenomenon and it is not outrageous to believe that in an alien world far far away, slimy looking alien creatures, how much ever technologically advanced, take vicarious pleasures in scribbling Graffiti. The book lists a cartoon with a alien space ship returning back to its planet and the welcoming alien comment's "I see you visited earth" pointing to the graffiti written on the space-ship.

One of the delightful aspects of Graffiti is that it sometimes appears in a series. Particularly a series with a basis or a basic Graffiti (or a Graffito, really). For example, The Government is screwing the country forms a basis to many derived Graffiti like

Don't Vote. It will only encourage them or
Don't Vote. Do it yourself or my personal favorite, during Richard Nixon's presidential campaign for the second term,
Vote Nixon. Why change Dicks in the middle of a screw?

Another series, I am a big fan of, has the form Graffiti rules, ok?
Nigel Rees mentions possible origins of this series. But over the years there have been numerous takes on this and some of my favorites are..

James Bond rules, OOK?
Typographers rule, OQ?
Queen Elizabeth rules, UK?
Apathy ru..
or
Jargon rules, ongoing agreement situation?

Now you know the thought behind the title for this post.

Anonimity brings rauchiness abound. Bathroom Graffiti or Contraceptive Vending machine Graffiti illustrates that.

Insert baby for refund a contraceptive machine said
or This is the worst chewing gum I've ever tasted.

Vandalism in the form of Graffiti is obviously disruptive. It defaces public property and takes a toll on tax payers to clean up. So I have always imagined a private Graffiti Wall or a City where people can go and write Graffiti for others to read; but it is not the same. The casual scribble by an anonymous Graffiti artist who leaves a mark while passing by has a different charm than orgainzed Graffiti.

As long as there are walls there will be Graffiti, unfortunaley, for it is vandalistic; but occassionally one can find a spark of wit which undoubtedly leaves you smiling.

Graffiti lives, OK?

khana

I was sitting alone in a very cliched Chinese Restaurant in the Beaver Square Strip Mall in Beavercreek, Ohio and pathos gripped me suddenly. I was devouring General Fang's (or was it Wang?) Chicken which was greasy and tasteless at the same time and I could feel the heavy drops of despondency run through my veins. Has it really come to this?, I thought to myself as I spiked the fork into the dead chicken. It was dead and ended up as bad food on my plate. I felt sorry for it. It had died in vain, from my perspective that is.

See, I moved to Columbus Ohio in November 2005 from the San Francisco Bay Area. It is not very hard to find good restaurants near good old SF. True connoisseurs can find good eateries in varied cuisines. Hell, I even know a Peruvian restaurant that I like, that too in downtown San Francisco. But Ohio is another story.

I drive 65+ miles to Fairborn Ohio for work, three days a week. Everyday I am in Fairborn, at lunch hour I search the citysearch and google local sites to find a good restaurant to eat. It's easier these days, with millions of people getting on the internet and leaving feedback or ratings for restaurants; shamelessly gloating about their favorite eating joints and carelessly bashing others which they loathe (like I am doing to this Chinese restaurant). I have tried a few of them and haven't really liked any and hence I usually resort to the chained ones ....as in Olive Garden, Don Pablos, Panera Bread and the likes. But that day I had to eat Chinese and the reviews said "food rather malaysian or singapoeran than chinese.....with a touch of blah blah...."; and I thought, Even Better!. So I got the map and drove 4 miles to Beaver Square. At first I couldn't locate the restaurant, although it was right there, facing the street. No red decorative arches, no dragons, no generalizations! I entered and it was a modest place with ten tables at the most. The buffet serving area gave me the first indication of how the food is going to be. But still I went ahead and said "Table For one please" and the waitress obliged. You are a courageous hungry man Shailesh, I said to myself. Even the restaurant name was cliched...'Big Wall'!!! I should I have known better.

Just a week before this disconcerting experience, I had driven 4 miles in another direction to try out a pizza place just because it was called Giovanni's. You see, there is this nice Italian Pizza place in Sunnyvale not far from where I worked in California, which served the best New York style pizza and was called ........you guessed it right... Giovanni's. The one in Fairborn Ohio was not even close. Actually if the waitress there wasn't very polite, I might have just walked out after taking the first bite of pizza.

So I guess for now, it makes sense for me to bring food from home. It is healthy, it saves money and it sure as hell tastes good. In all modesty I am a very good cook and for lack of good restaurants it makes sense to bring food to work! Bon Apetit!