The Kuala Lumpur Tower

The Kuala Lumpur Tower at night.

The Petronas Towers

Taken on my last trip to Malaysia. The Tallest Twin Towers in the world.It was the world's tallest between 1998 to 2004. One can never lose sight of the Petronas tower in Kuala Lumpur city. The towers always loom in the distant horizon. 

Top Three Travel Writers

• Bill Bryson
• Paul Theroux
• Pico Iyer

British Foreign Office issues Thailand Travel Advisory

Britain has advised its citizens from traveling to Thailand. The travel advisory asked Britons to not travel to Thailand.

"The situation is volatile and we recommend that British nationals in Thailand or planning to travel to the country check the travel advice on the embassy website regularly for details of further developments," the advice says.

The ongoing political crisis in Thailand continues to take toll on its booming tourism industry

Thai Airways has already reported a drop of 7% in traffic on its India route, which generally booms in the April-May due to summer vacations to schools and colleges in India. THAI has decided to cut 15% of its flights due to the slump in demand.

Bangkok - Political Crisis Intensifies

The political crisis in Thailand has escalated and tourists are strongly advised to leave Thailand or to stay indoors until the situation improves. One should be particularly careful in the capital city of Bangkok as the violence is possibly the worst in the past 20 years. Bangkok continues to remain in a state of emergency after a deadly street battle that killed 21 people. 

The protesting "Red Shirts" are camping in the capital since weeks sleeping near malls and luxury hotels. Clearly tourism in Thailand has been badly hit.

Thailand - A Travel Advisory

Thailand has a long history of political instability that continues to this day. The land of the Sleeping Buddha is in the midst of yet another violent political unrest. As 21 protesters are dead and some 800 injured and the streets of Bangkok are teeming with defiant Thais, we advice travelers to be careful and vigilant.

Hundreds of "Red Shirt" protesters also forced their way into government offices in two northern cities, in what now seems to be long revolt against Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva and his 16-month-old, military-backed government. The Reds, are primarily poor people, who support fugitive ex-premier Thaksin Shinawatra, hailing his policies for the masses such as cheap health care. 

Unites States has already advised its citizens to stay away from popular tourist areas. Travel safe.

Wanderlust

I yearn to be on the road again. In the words of J.R.R.Tolkien,

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea.

The following are my lines,Tolkien is of course a master.

I yearn for leave to leave this land,

I yearn for a peace that never was mine.

I yearn for the sea, the breeze, the sand,

I yearn for some tranquil lonely time.

Thane to International Airport

The journey from my home to the airport was eventful to say the least of things. You don’t really factor in a major traffic jam at Powai and fervently pray that your dad sitting beside doesn’t suddenly start on your inability to ever be on time.  But just then the driver sneaks out in one rapid stroke of maniacal madness and you are bounding out to the airport just in time for your flight. Then it rains!

Dad waved a good bye and a good luck, and I secretly believed he must have a mumbled an atheist prayer. And I was off. To be honest the moment I entered the airport I was terribly disoriented about where to go and all that cheery confidence of the solo trip was waning.  A few creepy thoughts of biting more than I could chew did stream in, but then I sighted a gorgeous Kingfisher air- hostess and I knew everything would be fine!
I had to clear the immigrations check. A few fiddly questions about why you want to leave your beautiful country followed. And then I was off. Hang on! I didn’t tell you about checking in my baggage, did I? I check in my baggage – a brown bag. Then off I go to immigrations. Over the speakers comes an announcement – there’s a brown bag at one of the counters lying unclaimed. Now I belong to that tribe of people who feel whatever evil has to befall on this earth, will unfold upon me. So I suffered a few moments of panic about that bag.
I even had a chat with a Thai flight attendant about the bag. He gave me the look of a sage who had seen many such lost souls and told me that everything would be alright.

As I waited for the flight to board, I lounged around the airport checking out a smoking hot firang with short pants and a Lakshmi printed T-shirt reading Shantaram. I was ready at last to leave Indian terra firma.

Gaining Weight!

For years a lot of people bugged me to take care of my physique. They wanted me to join a gym or do yoga or something. I resisted with vigor.  “I don’t need no gym. I don’t need no weight control. ” I sang in a Pink Floyd like tune. That was until a month back. Right in the middle of fight with my younger brother I realized he was taller than me. Thwack! A punch crashed into my face and I went down to the ground. 46 kgs don’t take too long to touch the ground, eh. Shameful! A little later I watched the 1976’s classic ‘ROCKY’. I felt really fired up. So off I marched to the gym.

A closed white door beckoned me. I opened it and ... no the world didn’t change! Inside were posters of a species of men that could easily pass off as alpha males. Body builders, wrestlers d of course Arnold Schwarzenegger fought for space on the walls. My gym instructor ushered me in. Now my gym instructor looks like he can do all kinds of things. I mean walk the ramp, jump off buildings and save kids, box, wrestle and maybe even lift the earth if Atlas gets bored. Like a Greek Adonis his body is so perfectly proportioned that I wonder whether Michelangelo chips away at his body every morning. As far I am concerned I look like one of those children they feature in the WORLD POVERTY ALLEVIATION ads. Thin mind you, very thin. If you have to compare me to anyone then it would be to a Tolkien’s hobbit.
 But I digress. “Pull-ups”, garbled the instructor. So off I went to a machine and promptly hoisted myself upwards. That’s when in the middle of nowhere I realized I couldn’t bring myself down. My benign instructor promptly pulled me down.
Push-ups next. I managed fine. I was feeling buoyed now.
Well next we moved onto the “DUMB BELLS” and this is where I made a complete fool of myself. The hunk gave me a heavy 5kg one. Mind you I didn’t ask for it. I tried hard to lift it. It dutifully refused to budge from its resting place. I tried harder now with both the hands and I slipped.

Ha-ha! The entire place was abuzz with laughter. The benevolent man again proffered me his hand. My male ego severely bruised and with my ROCKY spirit down in the dumps I got up with war cry ringing in my head. A few quick runs on the treadmill and some more of those bone creaking exercises I was off home.
For two excruciating months I followed the exercise schedule religiously.  For the past two months I have been unable to move any of my arm muscles properly. Instead of developing into big bulging blobs of envy my arms have contorted into something non functional. My whole body feels as if an oxen clog has been made to ride on every sinew. Mind you I am not doing this to feature in some glamorous model hunt for an underwear brand. Ah! That reminds me of something. Why do these fellows with perfect six pack abs and all look so sullen once they are put in front of a camera with nothing but underpants? As if somebody with an even bigger and bulkier frame ran away with their pants. Ok, I digress again.
 One fine day at Thane railway station I decided to do a weight check. Somewhere in my six pockets lay a fortune. I dug out a rupee from it and tucked it into the machine. It said “42 kgs.” Aargh! My weight gain program has reduced me by 4kgs. Wonderful!! Some of my female friends envy me. They say it’s so difficult to have a 24inch waist. Folks say stop worrying and start living. I have stopped gymming and started living.

Travel Resources

I have always wondered if I could find a list of travel resources online and found this rather spiffy one! 

An evening with Prem Joshua

It was in Goa that I first heard the name Prem Joshua. It was a whim, a mere moment's glance at the trinket shop of a Rajasthani lady wearing, what Sanket said, was a truckload of bangles, that I first saw that name. While the lady went to explain that the artist was a hit amongst the firangs and so we should buy it.You can either attribute the fact that we picked up that music album titled Prem Joshua and friends, to the lady's salesmanship or us trying to get a perfect Goan souvenir.

 I had forgotten all about the disc until back in beloved Bombay, Sanket told me that he was blown away by the music. "It is brilliant fusion", he chimed. Now Sanket Chavan is a man who knows his music. So when he says something is unlike anything you have heard, you have to listen to it. And listen I did.

Prem Joshua and friends put me in a musical spell that brought memories of Goa and other journeys flooding back to me. So when I heard that these folks were going to be Bandra for a free music concert, I was ecstatic.

On November 22nd, 2009 at the Celebrate Bandra festival, inside the decadent Bandra fort, Prem Joshua and friends performed live to an audience that comprised of an expatriate population, Indian families, young students & some hippies.

The open air amphi-theatre, the palm and coconut trees that surrounded the artists and the crescent moonlight all added a slightly surreal feel to the entire event. The music was beautiful, melodious, soaring, swerving, at once taking you on a journey and then suddenly making you ponder.

Prem Joshua had the audience in splits with his funny takes on India. Another concert was playing about a stone's throw away. He quipped, "We have competition today. You know in India everything has to be loud." The crowd cheered, because it sounded more like an Indian's rant!

The sitar playing was taut, the tabla,the percussion and the entire music sounded exactly as it sounds on the disc. But the thing that stayed with me was the Soprano Sax, a hauntingly beautiful sound that pierced my heart.

The concert ended, but a lot of us wanted some more.A standing ovation and a few moments later we ended up meeting Prem Joshua himself. I had heard this line somewhere, "You never choose the music you listen to, its almost always that the music chooses you." That line struck a chord inside me that night.

P.S.A big thank you to Sanket for the concert pass. I am adding a link to Shiva Moon just in case you want to sample some of Prem Joshua's music.

Travels across South East Asia - Setting Forth

I did mention that I would blog about my South East Asia trip and today I post the first of many posts.So here goes...
I have always had a fascination for the West; nay let me put it more strongly, I love the West. So when I heard that my charming cousin had no qualms in hosting me in the UK, I shot off from my chair straight to the VFS global office with my visa application. I even planned an entire backpacking trip of Europe in my ridiculously imaginative mind. In retrospect if I had taken some more time in filling up the visa form or maybe added a tome on why I wouldn’t settle in the UK along with the form, I might have not ended up in Thailand or Malaysia or Singapore for that matter. I would have been writing something about the French or the Spanish. I might have written reams on my first Ashes experience but the Emigration Control Officer at the UK visa office had his own take on my brilliant plans. So he rejected my visa application.

I had tramped all the major bookstores in Bombay and spent countless hours poring over the Lonely Planet Europe guide. But then the best laid plans of men who look like mice almost always go astray. So instead of enjoying an English summer, I decided to pack my bags and go off on a semi-guided, semi backpacker tour of the Far East or as some prefer to call it the South - East of Asia.

I had created quite a lot of buzz with my plans of the Eurotrip, and when the whole trip came unstuck many a friend and acquaintance had a hearty laugh at my expense, Schadenfreude I say. So I was rather discreet about my new plans! I would leave for Thailand on 17th July and be back on 28th July, just in time for my date of joining Godrej IT on 1st August.

The Thailand trip happened, the Godrej IT joining didnt! But more on that later...

Monday Morning Blues!

I know today isn't Monday so dont really tell me that! I wrote this on a bluesy Monday moment weeks ago. Felt like posting it. So here goes...
I was waiting for my bus to arrive. It would take me to office. Now if you know me personally then you would know that, such an occurrence is rare. I mean it’s not as if I had reached the bus stop early but that the bus was late. I belong to the category of people who bound like a hunting hound after buses that are sprinting away to their destination.
But today was different. I stood patiently with the Dave Matthews band playing through my head. As I heard “Where are you going?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. And then I spied them, two kids with tiny bags, playing in a corner awaiting their pre-school bus.
One of them was taller, with a blue water bottle hanging around his neck. A cherubic grin adorned his little face. The other one was short, with a band aid on his head.
It was a curious game; they were trying to grab each others’ bags while going around in circles. No matter how hard the shorty tried he could never grab the taller one’s bag. I laughed at the silliness of it all and the simple joy that they derived out of it. Boy! They were happy, so radiantly happy that I missed being innocent. I missed being young, carefree, stupid and without responsibilities. A cagey sadness gripped me even as the song changed to Radiohead’s Lurgee.
Soon their bus arrived and they left while I pondered on…

Travels Across South East Asia

In what seems like a really long time ago, I happened to do a solo backpacking trip across South East Asia. I tramped my way through Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore in a matter of days. I have repeatedly promised to post about my misadventures and I believe the time has come for me to stay true to my words.
So over the next few days { hopefully} I shall write in detail about those charming days. That's another promise!

At 3.30 pm we decided it was time to head back. As is the case with students the world over, we realized that we were short on cash. How we managed to pool in enough to refuel so as to reach Bombay would serve as a lesson in economics. We decided to take the return journey a bit slowly as our asses were crying for mercy. Neither of us was accustomed to such long drives. At Lonavala and Khandala we passed a few chikki and fudge shops that we stared at wistfully, but we tarried on.
We spotted a few monkeys near the valley ad something about our simian friends made us stop and shoot a bit of footage of the alluring Sahyadri valley. With the light fading and hunger creeping in our stomachs we decided to visit Ajinkya, a college friend. His benevolent mother fed us a scrumptious feast of dhokla. We visited another beautiful temple with Ajinkya. At 7.30 pm we set off again. In the dark Prasad transformed into a Night Rider and me into a Silent Rider. From Lodhivali for about 19 kms driving at a consistent 90kmph, he didn’t allow a single vehicle to overtake us. I was damn impressed.
We reached Thane at about 9pm and thus the journey came to an end. The journey was an amazing success. A few people, who heard our story, said that it was a big risk. I guess it was and that possibly is one of the reasons why I jumped at the idea. I feel if you want to leave footprints in the sand you can’t do it by sitting, then you would just be leaving butt prints in the sand.

Some pertinent and possibly rude yet funny observations:

• Driving in Pune is like walking a tight rope. One stupid mistake and you will lie sprawling on the road, at times you will find yourself on the road, even without any mistake.
• There is little road sense, or respect of trivialities like signals and lights.
• Driving with headlights turned on during the day is Pune’s way of showing that it doesn’t face a power shortage.
• More scarves are worn in Pune than in the coldest hill stations that surround it. Women cover up every bit of their face except the eyes, and zoom past you on their Scooties. Men on bikes with scarves do the same. If you have a scarf factory you know where to head. If you want a photograph of a terrorist riding on his next mission, still head to Pune.
• If you ask for directions people will tell you to go left and indicate Right with their hands.
• We spotted a rickshaw with a 4WD sticker on it!

Pune trip

Now I have a feeling that some of the few readers of this blog might wonder what I am thinking, posting this so late. Nevertheless, this is how things panned out.

Almost everyone has a tinge of insanity within us. We all possess a bit of zany sense of individuality, that streak of adventurism or sheer recklessness, whatever you want to call it. While some prefer to keep all that feeling bottled up beneath their staid faces, people like my friend Prasad and I revel in that sheer ecstasy.

I can picture us as some dark knights of an era bygone who look at the vast tracts of unconquered land and yelp in glee, “Let’s conquer this!” If you know your history then the Marathas reigned over Kalyan/Thane. In those ages, to reach there from their citadel in Pune some 160 kms away, it would take months of travel on tired horses. Aeons later the new age conquistadors journeyed from Mumbai to Pune and back, all in a matter of 12 hours and that too on a unicorn. Hang on! It wasn’t a flight of fantasy it was a Honda Unicorn.

It all happened thus. Prasad the brave and ebullient warrior of the Budhyal family had to seek blessings from a holy place in Pune. Then somewhere in that slightly cracked cranium of his, an idea took birth. So he came to me and asked if I would accompany him on a bike ride to Pune. I gave him a look that suggested he shouldn’t take me on the face value. I mean, I might look dumb. I ain’t! The earnestness on his face then convinced me that the freaking guy was serious. Thus I was entangled in this adventure. Not that I wasn’t game for it. It's just that, I wouldn’t have thought of it.On 26^th February 2008, we decided to surreptitiously sneak out of hour homes and undertake this awesome road trip.

At 8.00 am, we met near the Indian Library, {how that place manages to feature in most of my clandestine activities is something of a mystery to me!}, both having informed our parents of our noble (?) intentions of attending extra practicals early in he morning. We were all set for the trip. A word, about the machine though. She was a Honda Unicorn like I said with the silver of Unicorn blood. She has enough firepower and is a comfortable ride.

Back to the ride. With a triumphant smile splattered on our angelic faces we set off on the Mumbra bypass road. The road had been reconstructed. It is wide and the ride is smooth. Prasad’s riding is instinctive and very good. He manages to squeeze through the narrowest of gaps at speeds that would make other riders queasy. We took our first pit stop at Khopoli at about 9am. A quick breakfast and some chai set us off for the rest of the ride.

We were back on the road. The surroundings are green and scenic. Tiny villages dot the landscape and the cattle also use the NH4 as its personal toilet. As we were cruising on, a few choppers with guys in black leather jackets zoomed past us. Soon we were doing 120 kmph. Prasad maintained an excellent control over the bike at those crazy speeds and I sat behind wondering when on earth would learn to ride a bike like that. Its different kind of fun to have the wind whooshing past you at 120kmph, it’s a wonderful sound and you feel on top of the world cruising like that. The road and vehicles rush past you in a blur.

Speed is a wonderful thing, it thrills, and it seems to have a sense of power almost as if it has a life of its own or as if it infuses life in to someone else. And a bike is one of the best ways to experience that high. I guess it’s the sense of shock, the sudden tremulous acceleration that gives that high and I was drunk on it.

The road is picturesque. The Sahyadris accompanied us like a watchful elder one. With their looming figure they always seem near and yet so far. I like that bit about them. Tall dark, giant like with shades of green and some white threads of water, that’s how the whole surroundings appear. Then there are large open spaces and a few green fields. Pink Floyd springs to mind as ever, “So you think you can tell...”

We reached Pune at about 11.30 am. Sanket’s handycam was useful to shoot a part of our trip. Just when we were about to reach take a turn in Pune, a car crashed on to us and we were accorded a Puneri welcome, by the driver in his typical Puneri Marathi. The bike took a tumble and both of us lay on the road. The helmets saved us. A few scrapes and bruises was all that we had on or body. A traffic constable made his way to the mess and asked us what we were up to. I held the handycam aloft and told him I was media student. God! He was positively scared. We slipped away from there and Prasad was a bit shaken from the whole incident. Even I wondered if I would reach home safely that night!

But we avoided taking too many pictures as it would have made our lies public. We took lunch at Dhankavdi and everything was fine. We had both recovered from that initial Pune shock. So we called that human GPS system- Nikhil Pai who directed us to the Osho Ashram. Sadly the tickets for the day were sold out. Yet we saw loads of firang chicks on our way out and maybe we might come here again. But I guess that’s another story.

24th May, 2007

There is strange fascination that people have for morning walks and for jogs on the beach. I realized that I share it with a hundred other people at 6.15 am on Miramar beach. There was moment when I had to sprint a few meters to escape people.

There was a slight drizzle here yesterday. Consequently the sand was a bit wet even where the sea didn’t reach. I switched on the Ipod and started the jog. There is this song by Red hot chilli peppers called the Zephyr song; it’s a very beautiful song. As I ran the entire stretch of the beach, the song washed me up completely with its feeling.

Fly away on my Zephyr
I feel it more than ever
And in this perfect weather
We'll find a place together

In the water where I center my emotion
All the world can pass me by
Fly away on my Zephyr
We're gonna live forever...

forever... wonderful lyrics...

At the hostel Sanket finally informed me that he would be in Goa by 1.00 pm. And for a change he kept his word. We decided that it was time to check out Baga and Calangute.

Calangute is Goa’s most commercialized beaches. You can see loads of people enjoying the beach, water sports and other stuff. There are various shacks at Calangute, most packed with booze guzzlers. If you want have a first hand view of how Indians spend their vacations in Goa then this is the place to be. Topless men in shorts lying in the water, screaming and shrieking kids; their harried moms, drunk dads; fully dressed aunties in water, couples cavorting in the water; groups of 20-30 somethings playing water polo and enjoying the sea. Everyone has a blast on this stretch of sand.If you want solitude stay miles away from this beach.

At the edges where the water ends hawkers sell Goan souvenirs, trinkets, ornaments, glares,T-shirts, bags, handicrafts and just about anything except bikinis. There were very few firangs at Calangute that day. There was one gorgeous one who was busy reading Shantaram.Calangute is a bustling beach full of activity. You can experience first hand a liberated and energised India. I mean if on a vacation where people relax and laze around we give so much of ourselves, imagine us working!

Bhaji on the beach

At Miramar I finally met Vivek Shah the famous Gujju at the hostel. I met a few other IIT undergrads, his friends. At about 7.30 pm we decided to take walk on the beach. Then we saw a few Pav Bhaji stalls and promptly decided to have some Bhaji on the beach. It was cool. By 9.15 we decided to go back to the hostel.

Then we decided to check out the Miramar beach. There is this wonderful and quiet place just near the hostel on the beach that Vivek had discovered. At night the place looks hauntingly beautiful. You can sit here all night long and meditate. The waves come and kiss your feet. A lighthouse lights up the place every few minutes. It is silent and all you can hear is the sea quietly strumming some imaginary guitar. On the dark brooding horizon a few ships floated on to some heavenly destination.

It is in moments like these that you feel melancholy and euphoric at the same time. We sat there on the wet sand and as the white fizzling froth inched towards me I sat there and contemplated on the mistakes of the past and decided to come back to life!

Somehow Pink Floyd always has answers to everything and always come to your mind in moments of great joy or sorrow or just about anytime when you experience deep emotions.

I took a heavenly ride through our silence

I knew the moment had arrived

For killing the past and coming back to life

As the moonlight comes in from far away, various cruise boats with decks dazzling with brilliant, bright, gaudy lights crammed with people laughing, dancing and letting go, glide a few meters away from you. You can see and hear their joy and yet in some strange inexplicable way not share it. At about 10.00 pm the hostel doors close, so we scramble into the hostel and call it a day.

Anjuna flea market

Picture this- innumerable stalls lining the pathway, an assortment of gaudy colours that could intimidate a rainbow, vendors screaming, women in Rajasthani attire trying to catch the attention of the unsuspecting firang, trying to convince him that the lungi with ‘Om’ motifs could essentially be the most important feature of his India trip.As you soak in these visuals remind yourself of that visit to that vegetable market close to your home and remind yourself of the cacophony of sounds that surround you like an unsettling background score… Already smelling a bargain? Welcome to the world famous Anjuna flea market. It is held on Wednesdays at the Southern end of the beach amidst the coconut plantations. It starts at noon and goes on till sunset.

In India, this market provides cheap goodies and brings out the Goan spirit in hefty doses through their ambiance. Flea market is a translation of the French term marche aux puces, a name originally given to open- air markets in Paris. Literally means ‘market with fleas’ and generally flea connotes low rent or cheap.

The Anjuna flea market reminds us of the 60s character that made Goa famous. It came into existence with the hippies auctioning their belongings in a bid to spend some more time in the Paradise of Goa, all during the late 60’s. Since then it has only got better and bigger. So what did I buy in that market? Nothing! In spite of all the handicrafts, beach clothes, mirror work bags, European stuff, wooden crafts and carvings, beautiful wall hangings, musical instruments, bed covers, CDs with anything from Goa trance to Rock collectibles, kurtas, sarongs, artificial ornaments and T-shirts, all at the same place.

General advice: bargain like crazy if you plan to buy anything. Yeah I mean crazy. They quote just about any price that comes to their mind. A nice way of getting to and from the market is by boats. You get to avoid traffic snarls and if luck favors you might just get to see a few dolphins. Regular boat services can be availed from Baga. I left Anjuna for Miramar at about 5.30 p.m.

P.S.: Anjuna is not considered safe for swimming because of an unpredictable undertow, except near the Flea market end.

Anjuna- hippy haven

I didn’t stay too long at the beach; I was planning to reach that haven of hippies- Anjuna. The way to reach Anjuna beach from Miramar is a bit cumbersome if you plan to use public transport. First catch a bus to Panaji, from there to Mapusa and then to Anjuna. At Panaji bus stand I saw the bus going to Anjuna and another one parked next to it. That one was going off to Calangute. I sighted a lonely firang babe in the window seat in that one. Now that I think was my chance but I didn’t take it. Often in life we are faced with choices and it is often our fears that keep us away from doing incredible things. I mean I am not too sure if I would have ended up screwing the firang babe but at least I would have spent some interesting time roaming Calangute with her or at least would have made yet another friend. But I didn’t do anything. I took the bus to Anjuna instead.

It can get pretty boring at times traveling alone. So I did carry an Outlook Goa guide with me. It said the following things about Anjuna.

“It is undisputed king of Goa’s rave scene. They say everyone congregates here; from bums on the dole, from barely literate ravers to PhDs, eccentric millionaires. Anjuna can’t really be described too well. It has to be experienced, preferably on a full moon night at a beach hopping party. A shallow red laterite cliff borders the beach. To the right are terraced coconut plantations. Below, jagged laterite boulders alternate with little spits of sand. Azure water swirls and bubbles between the rocks. Anjuna beach is as beautiful as things can get.”

So with great hopes I reached the place. It was disappointing to say the least of things. Except for a few hippies in some of the restaurants there wasn’t much to rave about. The beach is beautiful and the view is breathtaking. Sample a few pics...