Bengfort.com

It was a whirlwind trip- ostensibly for business, but it turned out to be more complicated than that. I made new friends, I saw incredible things, and I succeeded at something I never dreamed I would. I was also disgusted at the dishonesty of the tourist industry in Mexico, I was terrified at the prospect of presenting a paper to some of the smartest people in the world, and I almost met my death in the Caribbean. This was my trip to Cancun, Mexico for the IEEE WCNC 2011.

Arrival in Mexico

When I first departed I was pretty apprehensive. I landed and was immediately drenched in sweat from the humidity. I wasn’t eager for the trip thanks to Jaci’s recent departure, and the fact that I was already on travel and I wanted to get back to work moving forward with my code. As I finally passed through customs, I was greeted by the instistant demanding of people seeking to give me transport; luckily I had already arranged round trip transport to my hotel, and my name was on a placard as I walked into the tropical night.

I arrived in darkness. The room was average- no desk for my laptop? I realized that I was exhausted, what time zone was I in? I thought it was -6, central time here?

The next morning I awoke to a stunning panoramic of the blue, blue- washing detergent stunning blue of the Caribbean crashing into the whitest beach I’d ever seen. I realized that my room was not sparse, but modern, and the hotel soared to a stunning interior atrium that I hadn’t noticed in my sleep deprived arrival. Although it was -6 (central time), daylight savings time in Mexico wouldn’t happen for another week, so I was effectively in Mountain Time. Room service brought coffee.

I had gotten up too early and still jetlagged I went to the gym before I showed myself at the conference. I ran hard, I cycled hard. I have a triathlon to run, after all. Feeling fit, I dressed and went out into the streets of the zona hotel, searching for the Cancun Center- and after only a few wrong turns I found it.

Where was I? The place seemed empty, a few Indians and Chinese and Professor-y looking people roamed the halls; the only indication I was in the right place. I found the registration desk, and with some difficulty, the native Spanish speakers managed to locate “Bengfort”. I only had to explain that my name started with a “B” four times. Lunch, though promised, was not to be found; WiFi, though promised, was also missing in action.

I attended my first session- deployment of relay stations in LTE-Advanced networks- seemingly my area of expertise. It was presented by second-language English speakers. The room was sparse– it contained a good friend, though I didn’t know it yet– I worked on my paper.

Out of the Social Comfort Zone

I skipped the afternoon session (sorry boss) and returned to the gorgeous Caribbean that was doing it’s best to break through the shore and beat the cabanas senseless. I figured I could swim in it. After changing and grabbing my flippers, I went in, mindless of the red flags. Thirty minutes later I was exhausted and half drowned. The undertow had dragged me a quarter mile to sea. When I finally dragged myself out of the water onto the beach, the lifeguard merely said “[translation of what I presume to be, the weather will get better towards the end of the week]”. I went to the gym, got on the bike, and then got on the treadmill.

I am not a social person, so I contemplated skipping the welcome reception the entire time I dressed for it and as I walked to the hotel where it was being held. When I finally go there, it was a shock to see my peers and my elders drinking and eating with familiar ease. I barely kept myself moving forward with thoughts of “It’s free food and free drinks at the very least”. Fortified by my first free margarita, and plate of appetizers, I approached a seemingly sympatico peer standing by himself by the bar. It was the best choice I could have made.

Madushanka and I had much in common right off the bat- it was our first paper, our first conference, and we both had the same research area. But for some reason, Madushanka attracted people. Simply being in his presence meant that I met the group of people I would spend the rest of the week with- Sabarish, Yuvika, Charka, and Sanjeema (as well as several other professors and PhD candidates that introduced themselves to Madush, and therefore me). They were good friends and first time presenters also, and it was an honor to get to know them! I hope that our social and professional relationship continues to grow over time, they are incredible.

The next day the conference didn’t seem to be such a foreboding, lonely place– not with new friends there. I went for a swim, the waves crashed into me with the same vengeance as before, and I was ready for them. But this time the guard came out after me– he didn’t like the risks I was taking. A turn on the bike and the treadmill took me to my first tri-sport workout. I dressed for the conference, excited to meet my new friends.

They didn’t disappoint- we went to sessions together, had lunch together and a great conversation. I went to their presentations, but soon enough, I realized that the next day I had to present, and anxiety began to overwhelm me.

I still hadn’t heard from my advisor about the status on my presentation- I was alone, with my paper distilled into 22 Tactical Network Solutions branded slides. I had no idea what I was doing. The presentation was only hours away, and so after more time in the gym, I went to the bar to wait for my new friends.

The mojito was excellent, and the wind was bending palm trees at their base. The outdoor lounge was being swept away, but the hot Caribbean air seemed so… natural. I noticed Shane by himself in the corner of the lounge, and buoyed by my success the night before, I approached him, and once again made a new friend. Unfortunately, my social awkwardness prevailed in the end, and I didn’t invite him to the planned dinner with my new group, and it wouldn’t be until later in the week until I would have the chance to get to know him.

Club Cancun

Sabarish, Yuvika, Charka, Sanjeema, Madushanka, and I wandered downtown Cancun looking for a place to eat, not expecting trouble. Finally we settled on a place called Carlos Charlie’s after an hour of walking around punctuated by disagreements about the various dietary requirements of the group. Apparently, Mexico is not vegetarian or Buddhist friendly. We could have been walking into an Applebee’s for the decoration and the table layout. But only fifteen minutes after we sat down, at precisely nine o’clock, a club materialized around us.

The margaritas were 32 ounces and three feet tall. They went down quickly, and we hadn’t eaten yet. A girl with tequila shots walked around, pouring the tequila down our throats and shaking our heads while tweaking our nipples. The waiters were more entertainment than food servers, inciting their diners to dance in conga lines that went out into the street and onto the bar. It didn’t take long for our entire table to find ourselves rhythmically and unceasingly moving to the heartskipping thud of the bass. We ate finally, only to have the drink Sex on the Beach poured directly into our throats while a waiter held a towel around us, and didn’t stop until we choked. Yuvika managed the impressive feat of almost a minute of straight drinking! They challenged us to beer chugging races, they asked us to buy them drinks, it was a club, it was dinner, it was Cancun!

When we finally stumbled into the street, our wallets significantly lighter (we were charged for every drop that we, and the waiters imbibed), and thoroughly partied out, I realized I had to do a podcast in only four hours. Thank goodness Will understood and we rescheduled for Thursday. But that didn’t change the fact that I had to present that afternoon.

Slides and Sliding

The morning meant more workouts, if only to reduce my anxiety- it didn’t work. I ate nothing at the conference luncheon for fear of spilling on my shirt… or puking. My new friends, only slightly hung over (bottled water works miracles) tried to encourage me, but they were planning on attending my presentation, and that didn’t help.

It went like a dream. I didn’t read from my slides, I was confident, I was asked important questions that I could answer. Why was I nervous? Of course, I was the only author presenting in my session of five papers. Everyone else was assigned the task of presenting another person’s research. Still, I convinced important professors in my community that my work was important; and this when my own advisors didn’t think my paper was worth much! Still, that night when we went out to dinner, I took it easy, and we didn’t leave the hotel for fear of Cancun outside.

The next morning I managed the podcast successfully from the hotel, and my new friends and I departed for Chitchen Itza afterwards.

Chitchen Itza

Tour groups are weird things. They keep you on schedule, but you don’t get enough time to do the things you want to do.

We stopped by a cenote (pronounced keh-note-ey), a sinkhole in the middle of the jungle, first. Of course, I wanted to swim. After changing we walked down 30m of steps, then dived the final 10m into the clear blue water filled with fish. I went deep on my cliff dive, but surfaced with exhilaration. Waterfalls surrounded the sinkhole, the jungle was all around, stretching to the water below, and the sun was a distant memory. I dived. I went 10, then 15 meters, but still the water was bright blue. I dived again, I made 20 meters- 10 times the length of my body, but still no bottom. I choked as I surfaced, and had trouble treading water. I grabbed for a nearby vine to hold myself above water, and it was then that the conservation officer blew his whistle wildly at me (apparently nature is more important than humans breathing above water). We managed pictures before we had to run off to catch the bus.

A a brief stop at a restaurant, and then Chitchen Itza. It appeared out of the jungle like the sun appearing behind a cloud. It was magnificent, the most perfectly preserved ruins that I had ever seen. We explored for hours, and at every turn we found something amazing to discover. The echoes were sublime. In one place, on the ball court (original lacrosse!), echoes were repeated 9, then 11 times. In another, a certain type of clap would create echoes as though it were a bird sound! We were harassed by multitudes of Mexicans trying to sell cheap souvenirs, and we bargained for a few. I was ripped off for one, and Sanjeema successfully negotiated for another. More preserved than Cairo or Athens, it was though we were transported in time, brought back to reality only for the need for the air conditioning of the bus. We were exhausted and amazed by the time we finally reached Cancun again.

The Final Tally

The week ended too quickly, in fact, it was a surprise to wake up to find it was the last day of the conference. I quickly packed, but when I checked out I was dismayed to find many hidden charges on my bill. It is one thing when craftsmen and con artists in tourist areas selling cheap replicas on blankets try to cheat you, it’s quite another when the Hyatt Regency in Cancun, an American company, does the same thing for close to USD $250! Everything in Mexico has a fuzzy relationship with the American dollar, and they know how to suck the money out of you, whether you are selling beads for dix pesos, or you run a TGIF/Club, or even a five star hotel; in fact, it is simple as this: when you are in Mexico, be prepared to be lied to about how much things cost, and not escape without paying a tourist surcharge of approximately 24%.

Returning home was no easy task either. Federales were a conspicuous presence on the way out, whereas they were an invisible presence on the way in. American immigration treats everyone of brown skin with a cold, suspicious courtesy that borders on hostility, and the Delta baggage handlers managed to utterly and completely destroy the contents of my checked luggage. Dogs patrol the bags with armed handlers who look at you suspiciously if you look at them or their K9s, and I had to try to control the desperate fear that someone has slipped something in my luggage making me an unwitting mule.

However, as I sit here in Atlanta, drinking beer in an airport bar and contemplating my first real trip to Mexico- I try to figure out the differences between there and here. As in Cancun, everything in Atlanta is bilingual, English first. Most of the staff here speaks Spanish, and aside from the southern drawl noticeable in the airport, and the distinct lack of salt-fortified humid air, nothing seems that different; they are the same restaurants, the same people, and the same frenetic moving in all directions. Only here, they don’t heckle you to come to their restaurant.

It was a wonderful trip, and I met wonderful new friends. I saw the wonders of the ancient Maya, and I dived in the beauty of the Yucatan jungle and the Caribbean sea. I achieved a professional accomplishment– publication in the premier IEEE Communications Society Conference, and I made many excellent professional and research contacts. At the same time, I was lied to, cheated, and generally sapped for my cash by con artists, hawkers, and professional drink slingers. I had to overcome social and professional anxiety, and I almost drowned… three times. It was exactly the kind of trip that I wanted.

Devi goes to meet Andy at Dulles International Airport when:

A Factory Tour

Tim and I decided that to deter boredom on a Monday in Arlington while Jaci was at work- we could take a tour of the Boeing plant in Everett. Because of my experience at Porsche in Stuttgart I figured that it would be a PR junket for the company, and probably a large gift shop with very worthless (but expensive) logo gear. Cynical as I may have been, I assumed that at the very least, there might be some good history to learn; and it was a nice day to watch airplanes land and take off at Paine field. Anyway, we both figured it wouldn’t be something Jaci would be interested in- so we may as well check it out since we had the chance. Little did we know that we were in for a very pleasant surprise because the tour was absolutely riveting and educational!

At the Boeing Plant

When I looked online for Boeing tours, I discovered that this was actually a premier tourist attraction. I thought that we could probably just show up at the Future of Flight building- a tiny Boeing museum near the main plant, and that we would be able to get in on a simple tour of the grounds. I did not expect that we would need reservations (we did, we almost didn’t get tickets because we called the day before) and that usually the 6 scheduled 90 minute tours would fill up quickly. The tickets got you into the main plant- we were escorted there by bus- and we could see the entire factory floor, plus access to the interactive Boeing experience, and the Stratodeck to observe flight operations at Paine Field! They cost $15.50 a person, twice as much as a movie ticket, but very worth it!

The Largest Building in the World by Volume

Before entering the tour, we were asked by a well armed guard to lock our cell phones, cameras, and any other electronic gear in a rental locker. We weren’t sure if this was to stop industrial espionage, equipment interference, or flashes but the security was very tight. Other restrictions included a height restriction, and advice that if you couldn’t descend and climb 21 steep stairs or walk a kilometer they would have to provide an accessible option apart from the main group. This only made me positive that we were going to see some cool stuff, though!

Landing in Front of the Plant

After a short introductory video, we clambered aboard a very nice, modern coach bus for a short drive from the Future of Flight Building, across an access road that skirted the Paine Field runway, to the main manufacturing building. Along the way we passed dozens of brand new jets parked on the tarmac outside paint hangers and other support and fuel buildings. Soon, though, we were parked in front of a massive hanger door.

If you have ever been down the Mulkiteo Speedway, you will have noticed this humongous  hanger complex that is the largest building in the world by volume. In fact, you could fit all of the Walt Disney World  theme park inside of this building and still have room for an indoor parking lot that could hold 1200 cars! The doors, painted blue with Boeing logos are roughly the size of American football fields- 90 feet high by 300 feet long! It looks big, certainly, but when you are standing, engulfed by those doors, it makes you feel downright Lilliputian!

Assembling Twin-Aisle, Wide Body Aircraft

The tour guide (Paul) led us down into an access tunnel that was a kilometer long- each of the 6 manufacturing bays have one. The tunnel runs pipes, cords, and people safely below the assembly floor- in fact, it is used by Boeing employees for exercise during bad weather! The tunnel was long, well lit, and had a laminated concrete floor. I could just envision all the fun things I could do in that tunnel with roller blades, bikes, moving dollies and a tow rope (or vegetable oil and a mattress)…

Halfway down the tunnel we came to a giant freight elevator that took us to the top floor of the middle of the E-shed. The floor was a visitors lobby with security guards, speakers for the tour guide and an amazing overlook view of the 747-8 Assembly station! Previous, smaller jets like the 727 and 737 had been manufactured by a moving assembly line (picture a giant scaffolding on wheels that grew over an aircraft being assembled as it moved down the assembly floor). Unfortunately the 747 was much to massive to be assembled in this way- so it is assembled in static stations.

In the front bay doors are giant aluminum sheet metal cutters, then stations for wing assembly. Wing skeletons are then connected with their control structures in a wing assembly area. The fuselage also has separate assembly structures running gown the far end of the bay. Then coming back down the other side of the bay all the pieces are put together. First, the central fuselage piece are attached to the wings, then the plane moves forward to a giant oven that cures the sealant. The plane moves forward where the front fuselage and tail pieces are moved by ceiling crane to be affixed the central portion and wings. This assembly area has air wing shaped concrete platforms that perfectly fit the growing aircraft. These structures are also used for access to add wiring and other control and structural elements.

Throttle Controls in the 727

After the main assembly, the landing gear is placed on the aircraft, from which point it moves forward as a single structure. Two more angled parking spots allow the plant workers to add the interior as well as do any testing and structural work that needs to be done. Needless to say, this bay is big enough for 5 747 aircraft lined up from nose to tail with space between! It is a massive scale! Sorry that I don’t have pictures- but again, they wouldn’t allow us to bring the camera on the tour.

A Stunning View

Too soon we were pulled from the overlook to move on with the rest of the tour. 747s are awesome, humongous, recognizable aircraft, and to see their birth was pretty extraordinary. However, as we went back down the tunnel to be transported by the bus to the new hangers, we were in for a similar surprise.

The new hangers were built to create the new 777 and 787 aircraft. As before we were taken to a tunnel to be lifted to the top overlook floor. However, the top overlook floor for the 777 and 787 bays was much, much nicer. Digital TVs, scale models, carpet, and sofas greeted us along with the fabulous view of the future of the airline industry (and its pretty cool present).

Landing Gear

If you don’t know too much about the aircraft that carry you when you travel, it may be a surprise to you that there are only really 2 companies that manufacturer your ride- Airbus and Boeing. Boeing aircraft used to be dominant in an airline’s fleet, but Airbus’ sleeker, more efficient planes soon gained a significant market share (think PC vs. Mac). While the 747 had been the workhorse of International Travel – the A340/380 could carry more passengers, farther, for less fuel. Boeing’s answer was the 777.

The 777 is a twin-aisle wide bodied, twin engine aircraft with the farthest range of any commercial aircraft, ever. It is sleek, fuel efficient, and it is the airframe that has carried me back and forth across the Atlantic all except one time. It is an amazing piece of engineering with over 6 million components. In fact the landing gear (seen above) is so high tech, it is the single most expensive component on the plane except for the engines!

We were treated by  a view of the moving assembly line that creates the 777. The line- a scaffold on wheels that grows over aircraft as it is assembled – moves at 1.6 feet per minute and can be accessed by stair by the workers. Once again, overhead cranes carry pieces of the aircraft from their assembly bays to the moving line. We watched as the 35th 777 for Egypt Air was being finalized on the cleanest factory floor I’ve ever seen.

However, the 777 is not the future. The future is Boeing’s 787 Dreamliner aircraft that just had its first flight a few weeks ago.

The Future of Flight

Walking around a partition in the gallery we came to a view of the newest bay that is now being used to assemble the 787 Dreamliner. The 787 is a modern 250 seat aircraft that is made of lightweight, stronger than steel composite material. The modern GE engines are super fuel efficient, and that combined with its light weight gives the 787 an excellent range at highly economic costs.

The stronger material also allows the aircraft to be pressurized at 6000 feet, way more comfortable than the 8000 FAA mandated pressure that is normal now. In addition, the air is humidified, which means no more dry mouth! The composite wings also can bend 12 feet in either direction- meaning that they absorb much of the turbulence! Very soon, airline passengers should be treated to lower cost, way more comfortable flights on these amazing aircraft!

Flight Cone

787s are manufactured in a completely new way as well. Parts are no longer manufactured at the Boeing plant, but completed and integrated in specialty plants around the world. They are flown to the Everett plant via the Dreamlifter- a mega lifter created specially by Boeing for the job- essentially a modified 747 whose upper deck has been extended the entire length of the aircraft (it looks like a giant hot dog). The tail is on a giant hinge that can swing out to load entire sections of the 787 at once! Once flown to Everett, the Dreamliner can be assembled at a rate of one aircraft every three days!

To manage the global dispersion of the 787 manufacturing, the newest bay has a modern command center that looks like it belongs in NASA or a SciFi movie! Massive screens track the locations of all the parts as well as the percent completion of every 787 aircraft in production. Reps from every company involved are also forced to man the command center (presumably so that if something goes wrong they can immediately be chewed out!) Manufacturing of the 787 is a modern, technologically, and communication savvy process that is extremely sophisticated and impressive!

A Beautiful Day Watching Air Operations

After the tour, we went back to the Future of Flight museum to look around. We got to play in a real cockpit, design our own aircraft, and experience an interactive tour of the engines. While we were playing like kids in a candy store, we had the misfortune of hearing the massive wind-up of 4 Rolls Royce jet engines that indicated we missed the take off of one of the enormous Dreamlifters. Because of that, though, we discovered that there was an observation deck with a cafe where we could watch the testing air operations for the new aircraft!

Sitting on the Stratodeck watching Boeing Air Operations

The tour was more than I could have expected. Boeing really took care of their guests, providing access without disruption, and allowing complete viewing of the aircraft manufacturing process. The galleries and viewing areas were impeccably designed and furnished, and very comfortable. I could not ask for a better experience in a factory! If you are in Everett, the Boeing Future of Flight Tour is a must see!

More pictures of the day:

Compared to many Americans, I do not drive very often. This is due to the fact that in DC there are many incentives for not driving (parking is expensive/unavailable, DC meter maids are the most vigilant in the world, and public transportation is cheap and abundant). Plus, my time in China has led to a strong preference for biking, and any car transportation needs are easily provided by family members. As such, I only drive about once or twice a month, which keeps my driving skills and emergency know-how at a persistently rusty level. This makes any unforeseen car problems all the more difficult for me to handle. Luckily, there are the Michelle Obamas of the world that are there to offer help.

As I was driving back to Maryland from DC today, I stopped at a traffic light as per usual traffic regulations. When the light turned green, I hit the gas to find that my car suddenly wouldn’t move. Confused, I check everything and discover that the car’s engine had inexplicably shut off. Thinking it was a mere stall, I turn the ignition once, twice, thrice…nothing. The ignition was turning, but the engine would not catch…my car was dead in the middle of the road. Cars started to honk behind me (I was in the left lane of a two lane road) and I realized the desperation of my situation. I was by myself, obstructing traffic, and completely unsure of what to do. I decided that since I couldn’t move the car by myself, my best option was to turn on the hazards, call my dad, and sit there pathetically until help arrived. Perhaps if I looked miserable enough, other drivers wouldn’t be so mad that I had created a traffic jam. So, I sat there. After five minutes, a cop pulled up and asked if I had called a tow truck. I told him that my dad had called one, and the cop told me that he had a round to make, but that if I was still there after he made his round, he would help me push the car to the side. Thinking that he was just going to loop around and be back in a few minutes, I waved off a taxi driver who stopped on the other side of the median and asked if I needed help. 10 minutes later, I was still in the middle of the road, when a figure suddenly taps on my window. It was a well dressed, middle-aged African-American woman in high heels and a fur coat. She first asked me if I was okay (which I thought was an interesting, but kind way of inquiring why the heck I was stopped in the middle of the road), and I tell her that I am fine, but the car is not. She then takes command, telling me to put the car in neutral and turn off the parking brake, and without any further ado gets behind the car and begins to push. I might also add that it was freezing cold out with high winds. A passing biker, probably shamed that a middle-age woman in high heels was pushing the car by herself in freezing weather also stopped, and together they got the car off the road. I thanked them profusely, and they both left. At this point, my parents and tow truck were on the way, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

But the altruism of the Michelle Obama look-alike didn’t stop there. Apparently she had gone back to get her car, which meant she was not a passer-by as I had previously thought, but had specifically pulled over to help me out. Then she came back for me, and offered to give me a ride to a Starbucks or the metro station so I wouldn’t have to freeze in the car. Talk about kind-hearted! I was about to take her up on her offer when I got a call from my mom that she and my dad were only 15 minutes away. Thanking the woman, I told her I would be rescued soon, and with a cry of “Happy New Year!” she drove off. If there was such a thing as a New Year’s Fairy, it would be that woman. Thanks again First-Lady-Look-Alike!

For National Holiday, October 2007, I went on a two-day camping adventure on the Great Wall.

Pre-Expedition

There were five of us all together, and it took about half a day before-hand to prepare: I had brought a sleeping bag, but we also needed mats (we weren’t sure if we would be sleeping in a guard tower, or if we would try to get off the wall and try to find a relatively flat clearing on the mountain side, but either way, mats were essential. We also bought a cooking stove, and a ton of not- good-for-you snacks filled with carbs and calories for energy, and some good snacks, like banana chips and peanuts. We also da baoed (boxed) some relatively unspoilable Chinese food, like noodles, froze them, and carried them with us. Unfortunately one of the dishes we got had meat in it, which we forgot about, and had to throw away (because no one wanted to get sick off of spoiled meat in the middle of nowhere). Our biggest concern was bringing enough water, and being able to carry it (carrying water on your back can get pretty heavy, and climbing the great wall is already difficult and treacherous without 60 pounds on your back). So we decided on ten bottles each, with the hope of not getting lost and dying of thirst, or falling off a cliff because our bag slipped). Andy was very concerned about the water situation, by the way.

The Natural Gate

The Plan

You may be wondering how we possibly could get lost if we were simply walking on the Great Wall. Doesn’t the wall go in one direction (or two, depending on if you are going East to West or West to East)? The answer is no, the Wall has areas where it forks in different directions. Also, most of the wall is broken, resulting in a lot of the Wall being nothing but ruins, covered in brush and overgrowth, so much that you can lose the wall completely (which is what happened to us).

The decision makers (Andy and Pete) decided to start from a non-touristy wall entrance, huanghua cheng, and then hike thirty kilometers to Mutianyu, a more touristy section of the Wall. We got contradictory statements whether it was actually possible to hike from one part to the other, some said you could, some said it was impossible. We decided to take the chance and go for it. All that we were told by the people who said it was possible was that if we come to a fork in the wall, stay right. Otherwise, we would be in the middle of nowhere, which would be a very bad thing if we ran out of water. So, we hired a mianbao che (a little minibus) to take the five of us to the wall. It took 2.5 hours to arrive.

Mao Watches

The Explorers set out

We arrive, and the first thing we decide to do was stock-pile on some energy, a.k.a eat lunch. Normally I do not eat rice with meals (useless starchy carbs with nearly no nutritional value in the long run) but we all ate a bowl of rice, and some vegetables and meat of course. While we were there, we met some Canadians who were eating lunch at the next table. One had been living here for 9 and a half years (and forty pounds, his words, not mine). He saw our huge backpacks (I did not have a camping backpack, so poor Andy had to carry both his and my sleeping bags and mats, resulting in him having the biggest and heaviest bag). And we told him our plan. He of course thought it was ludicrous (himself being extremely unfit) and said that we would only be able to make it to the fourth guard tower! However, he gave us the card of the owner of the restaurant, in case we got in trouble or needed some friendly guanxi for whatever reason. After lunch we  set out for the actual wall. Being an unrenovated section, we actually had to use a ladder to get onto the wall (normally there are steps). It was a rickety wooden ladder, and extremely difficult to climb, more so with heavy sacks on our backs. So that was the first obstacle. After that, the entire Wall was ours, and with the one exception of spotting some foreigners briefly at one section of the wall that was close to a village (which was a godsend on the way back, since we didn’t know it was “near” civilization until then), we didn’t see another soul.

Repaired Wall

Sometimes you get the Wall, sometimes the Wall gets you

We set off on the Wall at about noonish, which meant we had roughly 7 hours of hiking time before it would get dark and we would be forced to stop. Climbing is hard. The Wall has very steep inclines and descents, and as we were on an especially perilous section, entire chunks of the wall would be missing or nothing but a heap of rubble. We got pretty lucky with alternative path finding. We were able to bypass a whole mountain peak by finding a path that curved downwards across the mountain side to another part of the wall.

One time we didn’t get so lucky. On a particularly tricky climb over rocks and through brush, our group decided to split up. Andy and Pete wanted to attempt to rock climb, while Ally and I (and Jon, since the boys oh so chivalrously decided that one boy needed to stay with the women (right)) decided to follow a path that we thought would lead us up the mountain and back on the wall. We had a beautiful hike through wilderness, (not entirely wilderness, because there were small terraced plots of corn and squash, but still no soul to be seen), However, there was no way to get back on the wall! We soon discovered that we were on the Mongol side of the wall, and experienced first hand why the Wall was built, to keep the Mongols out. Being the Mongols kind of sucked, because it meant the three of us had to backtrack back to the point where we first split up and climb up the way Andy and Pete did.

Explorer Devi Framed by the Wall

The Climb of Terror

During the course of the hike there was a lot of tiptoeing past perilous drops where the Wall’s walls were non-existent, and there was a significant amount of rock climbing, but nothing compared to one section of the wall that we had to get past (twice as it will turn out) which I shall refer to as the Climb of Terror. Okay, so maybe the others might refer to is as the Climb of Relative Scariness, but as I am scared of heights, I was pretty afraid. I’m not exactly sure how far the drop was, but if you fell, the least that would happen would be broken limbs and internal bleeding, and the worst, well thank God the worst did not happen.

What made it particularly scary in the psychological sense was that if one of us had fallen, we were absolutely in the middle of nowhere, with no one around. It was hard enough to carry our own bodies this far, and would have been close to impossible to carry someone back had it been necessary. I should say here and now (especially if Grandma reads this) that we are all fine, and the only injuries I have are incredibly sore muscles and lots of tiny lacerations on my arms and legs from hiking through brush. Ally had the worst injuries, which were still nothing but cuts and bruises after she fell and rolled down a particularly steep section of the wall as we were descending. Luckily she had her pack on, which protected her back and kept her from rolling further.

Anyway, back to the climb of terror, think of going mountain climbing up a nearly vertical precipice. Then think of trying to scramble onto a crumbling wall with scary drops on either side, and being well aware that the wall could crumble beneath you at any time. Then think of trying to get incredibly heavy bags up with you at the same time. And then think of the girl who’s scared of heights trying not to hyperventilate while holding on for dear life while others have to hoist bags up the cliff while she’s uselessly clinging to a rock face. I don’t remember much of the ascent besides being scared, but I think people pulled and shoved me to get me up there. Anyway, at least I made it .

What do we do about that?

The Campsite

After that adventure, dusk was quickly settling in, which meant that we had to hurry up and find a campsite before it got too dark to see. We walked for about another 15 minutes with absolutely nothing suitable in sight, no guard tower, no flat part of the wall, nothing. I think at one point Ally randomly looked over the wall, and lucky she did, because she found the only relatively cleared, flat piece of space available probably within a huge distance. The area was very small, maybe 12 square feet, but it was enough space for us to lay out sleeping bags and have a small fire against the bricks of the wall.

We made our own firepit using rocks, and there was plenty of dry firewood, and about 10 feet of brush between our camping space and a mountain cliff drop (at night, we all thought that the huge space of fog and mist looked like a lake, but no, it was simply a lot of sky in between the mountains ) We cooked our food using the stove we bought, and roasted my stolen corn in the fire. All in all, it was a pretty cozy campsite, the weather was perfect, the ground was dry, but lumpy. We heard animal noises that sounded like a cat, and we tried to remember if there were bobcats in the Chinese mountains. Our cell phones still worked (gotta love China on that one) so we texted friends, but got two contradictory reports. However, no bobcats were sighted that night.

Lost

We woke up in the morning around 7 o’clock. We originally planned to wake up at five (which is not so early since we went to bed at 8), but that didn’t happen. We packed up our things and started out close to 8. After a while we got to an almost fork in the road, or should I say, fork in the woods, for at that point we were walking on soil with trees everywhere with a few stones here and there to remind us that we were maybe on a Wall. Having been told to stay right, we go right. However, after walking for a while, the path just stops. There was no where else to go, and no wall to be seen. Befuddled, we back tracked, and this time decided to go left at the fork. After walking down that way for quite some time, the path also stopped. We were lost.

Overgrown Wall

Turn Around

At this point, we had to start making decisions. We were low on water, had no idea how far we had walked, nor how far we had left until Mutianyu. So, even though we said that there was no turning back, nor did we want to endure the Climb of Terror (CoT) again, it was clear that turning back was our only choice. Going down the CoT turned out to be easier than going up. Pete had brought a rope, so we decided to lower our bags first by rope. Andy climbed down first, than Jon went down to the midpoint, I went down and found a safe spot somewhere in the middle, and Pete and Ally both staggered themselves at the top, and thus we began the process of lowering bags. It was quite efficient actually, and we all made it safely.

We kept on hiking, and out of luck encountered a German couple on the wall. They had on sandals, so we asked how they had got here (they couldn’t have hiked all the way in sandals) and they said they had followed a path that was about thirty minutes from a main road and restaurants. I was so happy! Only thirty minutes to civilization? If we hadn’t met them, we would have walked another 1-2 hours back to where we started from. This was much easier. When our bedraggled group finally made it to the restaurant, it was so nice just to wash our hands and get the dirt out from under our fingernails. For some odd reason I had dirt smeared across my face which the whole group neglected to tell me about until after we had finished lunch. Thanks guys.

Where we came from

The Aftermath

As I said, we all survived with barest of injuries. However, it was so hard to walk afterward; my muscles hadn’t been worked like that in a long time and were really sore for days (they still kind of hurt a bit). Anyway, the whole trip was such an adventure, and ranks up there as one of my coolest life experiences. Pete video recorded it; I will have to get a copy to show you guys sometime.

The expedition group

Radcliffe Camera

Matriculated Scholars Everywhere

Saturday was the Matriculation for all graduate students (and some undergrads). Jaci got up and went to Wolfson early in the morning wearing her SubFUSC and had coffee with her college and a photograph of all the Freshers. After she came back, we both went down to the Sheldonian theater for her matriculation. As we were walking down there, we had to go in and out of a sea of students wearing their college gowns and hats- it was a very surreal experience- it was like every day normal life, except everyone was wearing black and white, bow ties, and academic regalia. People were carrying shopping bags and riding bikes with helmets, pushing babies in strollers, etc. Very bizarre.

Matriculation Jaci

Unfortunately this town hates me, because when I tried to get into the Sheldonian for the ceremony I was denied access. I spent the ceremony instead (fully dressed up) in the King’s Arms Pub having a pint of Stella and playing solitaire on my Motorola Razor phone. Jaci told me that the event was boring- they all filed in, sat down. Then a guy with a mace (the Vice-Chancellor) came in and started speaking Latin for ten minutes, then tipped his hat at them, and they walked out. So it was overall a HUGE let down.

The good news is, we took plenty of pictures.

New Oxford Family

Celebrating of Matriculation

As is tradition, it was left to Jaci and I to find our fellow scholars and break open a bottle of fizzy to celebrate matriculation- or in most cases – to commiserate with fellow matriculated folk. Jaci and I decided that the parties that were being held (Octobeerfest at Wolfson, and Sexy SubFUSC at Linacre) will a little too wild for our tastes. So instead we invited Paul Angelo (friend from USNA) and his girlfriend who just flew in from Notre Dame on her fall break out to a fancy dinner at Gee’s. When we got to Gee’s, however, we were disappointed to find out that we could not get a table (even though there were only 2 or 3 tables with patrons in them) because we did not have a booking, and they were snobbish enough to throw us out.

Celebrating Oxford

Fatefully- we decided to go to Brown’s: the same restaurant that dad and I had our nice dinner before he left.

Before I get to far, let me just tell you the menu for our dinner, because shortly, you won’t care about it:

• Gin & Tonics for the Men, Champagne Cocktails for the Ladies at the Bar waiting for our Table
• Bottle of Veuve Clicquot
• Baked Camembert with sweet red onion chutney
• Bottle of Rivaux 1860 (a red Spanish wine)
• Lamb, Steak, Mahi Mahi, and Walnut Pasta
• Brandy (Martin VSOP)
• Caramelized Orange Panacotta and Toffee Pudding

Needless to say it was a very nice meal and a wonderful evening with friends (it was about a 3.5 hour dinner). But this was not the most exciting part of the night, and in fact, I think everyone forgot about dinner. But first, a little autobiography:

Useful Information for the Rest of the Story:

Emma Watson is the elder of two children born to Chris and Jacqueline Watson, lawyers who are now divorced; she has a younger brother named Alex. She spent her formative years living in Paris, France, and Oxford, England. During her primary school years, Watson attended The Dragon School, a private preparatory school, until June 2003. (The Dragon School is on the way to Wolfson from our house)

Emma Watson

Prior to her role in the Harry Potter films, Watson’s acting experience was limited, consisting only of minor roles in school plays, including Arthur: The Young Years and The Happy Prince. Other school activities included the Daisy Pratt Poetry Competition, in which, at aged seven, she won first place for her year. Best known for her role as Hermione in Harry Potter

Magically Star Struck at Brown’s

I hope you can see where this is going by now: Jaci walks past the Dragon School every day that she goes to Wolfson. Harry Potter was filmed at Christ Church and the Bodleian…

I was standing at the bar when I hear a sharp gasp behind me. Christina has just recognized Hermione standing about 2 feet away from us. But in a brief moment of doubt she whispers to Jaci: “Isn’t that the girl from Harry Potter?”. Another gasp. I on the other hand, have just dealt with the Bartender and don’t recognize anything out of the usual, of course I recognized Emma, but I just thought it was because she was a classmate of ours or something. It took me five minutes before I realized what they were trying to whisper to me (Emma of course is two feet away and could probably hear the loud Americans).

Struggling with being polite or outright star struck, Emma was finally saved by her grandfather, who escorted her to her table in the back of the restaurant. He was a cute old man, and the girls were both enamored by how polite he was. As soon as Emma walked out of the bar, the place exploded into talking about the sighting. It was quite brilliant.

When I went outside to call a friend, I heard someone talking about how they had been asked to leave the restaurant because of something they said to Hermione! It was quite ridiculous.

But it doesn’t end there:

We were eating dinner in a window seat. I looked up, and Hermione (Emma) is standing outside on her mobile. She looks at me and we made eye contact, I smiled, and she turned away disgusted. I mentioned to the group that she was right there, and of course everyone turns and looks at her again. Suddenly this boy comes out of nowhere and gives her a huge kiss and takes her hand. This was the final straw for us- I guess we know how paparazzi feel. Throwing all sensibility to the wind, we pulled out cameras and cell phones to take pictures. Unfortunately she had escaped across the street, and we were photographing through a window, so we have one very fuzzy shot of her, and not much else to say for ourselves. The British weren’t amused with us I don’t think.

Oh, and since this is the world wide web, Emma- if you are reading this, please forgive our behavior, there really is no excuse. Keep in mind that you are the first famous person we have encountered, and it was completely unexpected.

Conclusion

As this was our first star sighting, we were all understandably excited. All of us felt a little strange that this girl was so young, and yet we were all excited to see here (She is 16 I think) and it just seemed strange to see her all by herself in Oxford. We all got over it though, and had a lovely night.

New Oxford Scholar

Aloha all you very special people.

Did you know that Aloha means in the presence of God’s breath or God’s essence? This is what Hawaiians say when they meet you. What an honor! It’s something to think about every time you meet someone and the world would be a much better place.

I just got back from Oahu this morning (Friday) after getting there on Sunday and spending 4 days on business. So which crazy person spends only 4 days in Hawaii when it’s their first visit…, yep me. I know I cannot come near to Devi’s blog on her Great Wall hike but I thought I’d try anyway.

Cranes

The Plane The Plane…

No, Tatu did not see my United flight as it flew over Oahu. That’s left for other fantasy Islands (perhaps Maui but I am not sure since the only Island I got to was Oahu). As a United frequent flier, I was upgraded to first class, so I started the trip in style with a Mai Tai with the umbrella and pineapple (from Hawaii I’m sure) and stuffed myself silly to pass the 12 hours on the plane. I flew from BWI to Denver to Honolulu. The airline had a game for passengers to guess the Hawaiian Standard time we would be at the midpoint to Hawaii from Denver. Everyone was given the speed and tailwind and time of departure. I guessed 11:20a.m. The correct answer was 11:14 a.m. There was a 3 way tie so the all received gifts for guessing right. The airline thought they would give the newlywed couple who won, an extra gift of champagne. Later, the flight attendant had to say that the couple didn’t drink.. so they wanted to give it to the couple married longest. Can you believe there was a 3 way tie for more than 50 years!. They had to decide by months. I guess Hawaii is for newly and old weds.

Battlestar Galactica

I stuffed myself silly because of all the cylons on the plane…they didn’t seem to be from God’s breath. (Just kidding). The redeeming feature of the 12 hour flight was the recap of Battlestar Galactica over the last several seasons. Thus the season opener that dad and I watched made a whole lot more sense to me now! It did get repetitive as it was shown four times during my round trip flight.

Ko Alina

This means a place of joy. This is the resort area where I stayed (in a friend’s 3 bedroom condo off of the Ko Alina Golf Course) and is probably the less crowded beautiful area on Oahu. The Marriott timeshares are located here and there are five beautiful lagoons off of the very blue ocean and beach with palm trees. The grass is amazing…soft as carpet. I could see beautiful outdoor weddings here. The Mimosa trees are very nice. I thought Mimosas were orange juice and Champagne:-0. The other nice area is Waikiki beach which is more crowded with hotels and shops right off the beaches.

Golf

One evening, we decided to walk the five mile lagoon area which was fun. I stopped at the Marriott Timeshare and crashed the Luau on Tuesday evening. You need reservations to be in it. But I sat just outside on the grass. About an hour later, I was told that it was reservation only and I could watch it form the balcony in the timeshare, I had seen most of it by then so instead I went and used the pool and hot tub at the timeshare. I guess the key is to look like you belong. I did enjoy beach time and read 2 novels that were in the condo (Digital Fortress was one).

Lagoon

Blue Lagoon

Waimea Beach

Surf Surf, Surfin USA. I never knew that the Beach Boys sang of Waimea Beach. I will have to listen more closely. Obviously, they were surfers. I took the time to drive completely around the Island with a wonderful, hospitable friend after a business meeting. We drove the North Shore where the currents are strong making for great surfing. We watched the surfers on the beach and apparently any surf pictures in Hawaii are taken in this area. We drove by the shrimp farms and stopped at one of the shrimp trucks for a shrimp appetizer. We went to a town that used to be the 1920’s resort area and had Ahi for dinner. I missed the Dole plantation because they were closed but I did get to enjoy fresh pineapple. The ones from Guyana were better. Before I went to my meeting we drove the Easter part of the island and saw Hanauma Bay and the million dollar houses along the beach. Saw divers and snorkelers. One unusual thing is that a lot of people live in tents on the beach in some parts and have broken down vehicles with storage. They move a few feet after a while to keep up with laws that restrict how long you can stay. The housing costs are so high that affordable housing is difficult. Total travel time around the island is 2 hours on a two lane road.

Warrior

Carry On

Of course Oahu is home to many military bases for reaching out to the Pacific. I did not visit Pearl harbor although I was nearby. I did do some shopping near Waikiki and bought a hand painted shirt, coffee for dad and macadamia nuts. This mean t my carry on bag got heavier. I decided it was a long trip back and I would check it in which I never do! Well, it did not return home with me. The good thing was that I was home. It was delivered later at 11:30pm, after dad was in bed and I had to decide whether to open the door to a strange man.

Mahalo!

I had a wonderful experience flying with Tim Krout on a beautiful Saturday, October 14, 2006. Tim has had a pilot’s license for a year or so, and earned his instrument rating this spring, which means he can fly when visibility is poor. We talked about going up for several months and finally made it happen.

Pre-Flight

Tim keeps his plane at Hayes Field near Clarksville, one of the only airports with a grassy runway in Maryland.

Now Boarding for Adventure

The plane, a Cessna Skyhawk 172, technically is a four-seater, but in reality has the same amount of cabin space as Mom’s Audi TT, with a little more headroom.

A Trustworthy Pilot

We rendezvoused at the field at 8:30 a.m., but waited about an hour while the sun thawed a thick layer of frost from the wings. Also at the field was a group of guys just about to break the world’s record for continuous flight of an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV). The record was 40-some hours, and they were shooting for 50. They were gone when we returned, so we don’t know for sure if they succeeded.

High Flying Antics

The take-off and flight toward the Chesapeake Bay were very smooth. The trickiest past is maneuvering between all the restricted flight zones. Tim certainly knows the lingo as he speaks to air controllers; almost like speaking a foreign language.

The Chesapeake Bay is beautiful at ground level, but it is absolutely stunning from the air. Glistening blue water framed by lush carpets of trees. The tributaries look like a piece of modern art.

Airport Poker

The occasion for the flight was a game of “airport poker” arranged by an informal group of pilots. The idea is to fly to a couple of airports, pick up a card, then meet at a final airport to play out the hand and have lunch together. The group does this periodically and this would have been Tim’s first time. But this was a rescheduling of a bad-weather day the week before, so it wasn’t clear how many pilots would participate. We got a late start due to the frost, so we just flew straight to the final airport. No one else was there; we were the only plane on the tarmac. So we went ahead to the restaurant on our own. A few other pilots did show up about an hour later. We stayed and talked, but never got around to playing poker.

The final airport was on Tangier Island, just south of the Maryland line in Virginia, a tiny bump of land less than a half-mile across. Population: 600. As we approached, Tim asked if I could see the runway. My response: “Heck, I can’t even see the island”.

Over the Wing

Directly overhead, we saw there indeed was a runway, which appeared to be the most solid part of an island that was mostly marshland.

Sky View

Tangier Island

When we landed, two guys in a gold cart scurried over to the plane to collect a sort of airport parking fee – a whole $5. Parking a car in Inner Harbor costs twice that!

When the golf cart guys drove away, Tim looked at me and asked, “What language were they speaking?” I, too, had noticed their very strong dialect that was a little hard to understand. At the restaurant, the server was easier to understand, but still had an intriguing accent. For example, she said “Hees ya pancake” as she served dessert. I was engrossed in conversation and did not pay full attention, but part of my brain thought, “Hmm, pancakes for dessert – interesting.” Turned out to be “pound” cake. I was curious enough to do some research when I got home and found this: “The tiny island community has attracted the attention of linguists because its people speak a totally unique dialect of American English, hypothesized to be nearly unchanged since the days of its first occupation by English colonists.”

The restaurant, Hilda Crockett’s Chesapeake House, was a treat. Very simple, with six large tables nestled together, each seating 12. Tim and I were the only guests at first. They just sat us down at one of the tables and started bringing out food. No menus here; you just eat what they are serving that day. And it’s all family style. So here’s Tim and I, sitting at a humongous table, with huge platters of ham, cole slaw, potato salad, beets, corn pudding, apple sauce, green beans, bread, fried crab fritters and an endless supply of big, meaty crab cakes. After a half hour, another couple came in, was seated right next to us and ate from our same platters. Half-hour after that, three more fliers joined us. Around 2 p.m., we headed out, stopping for a group photo.

Group Photo

How often does that happen at a typical restaurant? To that point, we still were the only luncheon guests. But as we left, the server was stocking several tables with a fresh supply of platters and bowls; they must have been expecting a mid-afternoon rush.

Homeward Bound

As we winged our way homeward, Tim let me take the controls so he could do some sightseeing. The flight had been very smooth all day, and my flying started out fine. But after about 5 minutes, the plane started pitching and yawing, and I struggled to keep a level horizon. I asked Tim if my piloting was that bad, but he assured me that we had entered some atmospheric turbulence. I hung in there for another 15 minutes, then Tim took back the controls so we could land for fuel. Tim made flying look easy, but my short session showed just how physically taxing it is.

The turbulence persisted the rest of the way home. Nothing severe, like head-hitting-the-roof type turbulence. But just enough that I started feeling a little queasy by the time we landed back at Hayes Field. Another 30 minutes, and I probably would have been tossing my crab cakes.

The Incident

Bethany had issued a plea for any kind of mid-term-exam support, so Mom and I decide we would surprise her with curry on the Monday of that notorious week. Our plan was to have dinner ourselves and order extra for Bethany.

We go to House of India and order curry chicken and curry goat, with plenty of naan. The food was good, but the goat was much fattier than usual. At first, I thought aloo had been mixed into the stew until I popped a piece into my mouth and found myself chewing a solid chunk of goat blubber.

We finished our meal and prepared to pack up the remainder. The curry had been served on little karahis sitting atop a stand with sterno warming fuel, and the pot was still about three-quarters full. First, though, I wanted to fish out some of the fatty chunks. I take my spoon and carefully probe the meat, thinking how much Bethany will love this tasty surprise. Suddenly, the karahi and stand topple over the table and land with a clang and a splat on my bench seat. The right side of my sport jacket is covered with curry. I look at Mom, Mom looks at me, and the waiter stares at both us – all of us dumbfounded for several seconds. Then Mom tells the waiter to bring napkins, and he snaps out of the trance.

I pick up the karahi and its stand, and only then notice that one of the three legs is bent sharply inward, no doubt the cause of the instability. I turn my attention toward the pool of curry beside me, and the waiter comes to clear the table. I slip out of the booth and Mom kindly takes my jacket into the restroom to rinse off the curry. As we finish up, I try to explain to the waiter about the bent leg, but he just gives me a patronizing Sure-Mr.-Clumsy-White-Guy smile. I persist, expressing concern that this might happen to another guest, and he shrugs and says, “sometimes the kids play with our dishes.” “What the hell does that mean,” I think, and I start forming the case that the restaurant should pay my cleaning bill. But then another waiter brings a whole new serving of goat curry packaged for take-out. I remember the real mission of the evening, so Mom and I dash to deliver some curry-in-a-hurry to College Park.

Is Curry Actually Brittish?

The following is from The Origins of Curry an excerpt from Menu Magazine an online food magazine, by Peter & Colleen Grove:

Most people in the world today know what a curry is – or at least think they do. In Britain the term ‘curry’ has come to mean almost any Indian dish, whilst most people from the sub-continent would say it is not a word they use, but if they did it would mean a meat, vegetable or fish dish with spicy sauce and rice or bread.

The earliest known recipe for meat in spicy sauce with bread appeared on tablets found near Babylon in Mesopotamia, written in cuniform text as discovered by the Sumerians, and dated around 1700 B.C., probably as an offering to the god Marduk.

The origin of the word itself is the stuff of legends, but most pundits have settled on the origins being the Tamil word ‘kari’ meaning spiced sauce. In his excellent Oxford Companion to Food, Alan Davidson quotes this as a fact and supports it with reference to the accounts from a Dutch traveller in 1598 referring to a dish called ‘Carriel’. He also refers to a Portuguese cookery book from the seventeenth century called Atre do Cozinha, with chilli-based curry powder called ‘caril’.

In her ‘50 Great Curries of India’, Camellia Panjabi says the word today simply means ‘gravy’. She also goes for the Tamil word ‘kaari or kaaree’ as the origin, but with some reservations, noting that in the north, where the English first landed in 1608 then 1612, a gravy dish is called ‘khadi’.

Pat Chapman of Curry Club fame offers several possibilities:- ‘karahi or karai(Hindi)’ from the wok-shaped cooking dish, ‘kari’ from the Tamil or ‘Turkuri’ a seasonal sauce or stew.

The one thing all the experts seem to agree on is that the word originates from India and was adapted and adopted by the British Raj.

On closer inspection, however, there is just as much evidence to suggest the word was English all along.

In the time of Richard I there was a revolution in English cooking . In the better-off kitchens, cooks were regularly using ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, galingale, cubebs, coriander, cumin, cardamom and aniseed, resulting in highly spiced cooking very similar to India. They also had a ‘powder fort’, ‘powder douce’ and ‘powder blanch’.

Then, in Richard II’s reign (1377-1399) the first real English cookery book was written. Richard employed 200 cooks and they, plus others including philosophers, produced a work with 196 recipes in 1390 called ‘The Forme of Cury’. ‘Cury’ was the Old English word for cooking derived from the French ‘cuire’ – to cook, boil, grill – hence cuisine.

In the preface it says this “forme of cury was compiled of the chef maistes cokes of kyng Richard the Secunde kyng of nglond aftir the conquest; the which was accounted the best and ryallest vyand of alle csten ynges: and it was compiled by assent and avysement of maisters and phisik and of philosophie that dwellid in his court. First it techith a man to make commune pottages and commune meetis for howshold, as they shold be made, craftly and holsomly, Aftirward it techith for to make curious potages and meetes and sotiltees for alle maner of states, bothe hye and lowe. And the techyng of the forme of making of potages and of meetes, bothe flesh and of fissh, buth y sette here by noumbre and by ordre”.

In his book ‘Manners and Meals in Olden Times’ (1868) F.J.Furnell noted a passage from a fifteenth century treatise against nouvelle cuisine :

‘Cooks with peire newe conceytes,
choppynge, stampynge and gryndynge
Many new curies alle day pey ar contryvynge
and fyndynge
pat provotethe pe peple to perelles of passage prouz peyne soore pyndynge
and prouz nice excesse of such receytes of pe life to make a endynge.’

So when the English merchants landed at Surat in 1608 and 1612, then Calcutta 1633, Madras 1640 and Bombay 1668, the word ‘cury’ had been part of the English language for well over two hundred years. In fact, it was noted that the meal from Emperor Jahangir’s kitchens of dumpukht fowl stewed in butter with spices, almond and raisins served to those merchants in 1612, was very similar to a recipe for English Chicken Pie in a popular cookery book of the time, ‘The English Hus-wife’ by Gevase Markham. Indeed many spices had been in Europe for hundreds of years by then, after the conquests of the Romans in 40AD and the taking of Al Andulus by the Moors in 711 AD, bringing to Europe the culinary treasures of the spice routes.

Many supporters of the Tamil word kari as the basis for curry, use the definition from the excellent Hobson-Jobson Anglo English Dictionary, first published in 1886. The book quotes a passage from the Mahavanso (c A.D. 477) which says “he partook of rice dressed in butter with its full accompaniment of curries.” The important thing, however, is the note that this is Turnour’s translation of the original Pali which used the word “supa” not the word curry. Indeed Hobson -Jobson even accepts that there is a possibility that “the kind of curry used by Europeans and Mohommedans is not of purely Indian origin, but has come down from the spiced cookery of medieval Europe and Western Asia.”

Whatever the truth, ‘curry’ was rapidly adopted in Britain. In 1747 Hannah Glasse produced the first known recipe for modern ‘currey’ in Glasse’s Art of Cookery and by 1773 at least one London Coffee House had curry on the menu. In 1791 Stephana Malcom, the grandaughter of the Laird of Craig included a curry recipe she called Chicken Topperfield plus Currypowder, Chutnies and Mulligatawny soup as recorded in ‘In The Lairds Kitchen, Three Hundred Years of Food in Scotland’.

Around the same time the word “consumer” began to appear which, conversely, was not originally an English word as one might think, but derived from ‘Khansaman’, the title of the house steward – the chief table servant and purchaser as well as provider of all food in Anglo-Indian households.

In 1780 the first commercial curry powder appeared and in 1846 its fame was assured when William Makepeace Thackeray wrote a ‘Poem to Curry’ in his ‘ Kitchen Melodies’.

Curry

Three pounds of veal my darling girl prepares,
And chops it nicely into little squares;
Five onions next prures the little minx
(The biggest are the best, her Samiwel thinks),
And Epping butter nearly half a pound,
And stews them in a pan until they’re brown’d.
What’s next my dexterous little girl will do?
She pops the meat into the savoury stew,
With curry-powder table-spoonfuls three,
And milk a pint (the richest that may be),
And, when the dish has stewed for half an hour,
A lemon’s ready juice she’ll o’er it pour.
Then, bless her! Then she gives the luscious pot
A very gentle boil – and serves quite hot.
PS – Beef, mutton, rabbit, if you wish,
Lobsters, or prawns, or any kind fish,
Are fit to make a CURRY. ‘Tis, when done,
A dish for Emperors to feed upon.

In the same year Charles Elme Francatelli, chief cook and maitre d’hotel to Queen Victoria included a recipe for ‘Indian Curry Sauce’ in his ‘The Modern Cook’, based on Cook’s or Bruce’s meat curry paste.

In 1861 it was Mrs Beeton’s turn in her ‘Book of Household Management’ where she includes no less than fourteen curry recipes, including Dr Kitchener’s Recipe for India Curry Powder. Even Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico’s (1862-98) wrote in The Epicurean “Curry – the best comes from India. An imitation is made of one ounce of coriander seeds, two ounces of cayenne, a quarter ounce of cardamom seeds, one ounce salt, two ounces turmeric, one ounce ginger, half an ounce of mace and a third of an ounce of saffron”.

The development of the curry industry in Britain has been peculiarly Anglo-Asian such that many people brandish ‘authenticity’ as if it were the Holy Grail. According to Camellia Panjabi “Ninety nine per cent of Indians do not have a tandoor and so neither Tandoori Chicken nor Naan are part of India’s middle class cuisine. This is even so in the Punjab, although some villages have communal tandoors where rotis can be baked. Ninety five per cent of Indians don’t know what a vindaloo, jhal farezi or, for that matter, a Madras curry is”.

Since the opening of The Bombay Brasserie in London in 1982 there has been a growing group of highly trained chefs offering the classic Indian dishes but the backbone of the British industry has consisted largely of self taught chefs who have been clever enough to adapt to market requirements resulting in the Balti craze and the, now world famous, Chicken Tikka Masala amongst others.

‘Curry’ has not looked back since and was recently named the British National dish after a major opinion poll by Gallup. It is interesting to note that the Portuguese, Dutch and even the French were in India long before or concurrently with the English and yet it was Britain that readily adopted curry, not the others.

Perhaps it was because England had had a tradition of ‘cury’ all along!