Came across this trivia: the etymology for Orchid is from Orchis, which in Greek means testicle, so named because of the shape of the plant's roots. Roots? Dude these are orchids? Plants with the most exotic flowers? You couldn't see them? Oh well, it was Carl Linnaeus who named them so, and we all (at least all of us who have read Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson) know that he almost entirely named things with explicit genital names.
Ok, now that I have made a sexual reference to catch your attention, let me move on to the main message.
Mercury rose steadily through the week - from low 8 - 10 degrees last weekend, it burgeoned to up to 17 degrees and even touched mid 20s a couple of times. Viva el sol! Weather Channel was sensationalizing a storm system caused by Jet Stream that was going to sweep across the south west and come up to Chicago with tornadoes and hail the size of golf balls, but it all came to bupkis. Now that they have got the Louisiana oil spill, Weather Channel has abandoned issuing panic warning on the impending storm. One feels sorry for a channel that needs national calamities that requires federal funding to get its TRP.
So we have been having crisp sunny days with strong winds which sometimes stepped on gas and got up to 45 mph. Emboldened by the weather, I set out walking one day after work and discovered the Deerfield Village, about 1.4 miles away from the hotel.
If you look up Deerfield IL on the Net, you will find that it is almost entirely a white town. They even diabolically and successfully plotted a project meant for poor black people out of the town, earning the nomenclature "Little Rock of the North". Be that as it may, it is a typical affluent white town - you know the type. European style village square with brick and stone buildings, prominent church with its tall stone spire and stained glass windows, paved stone walkways, multitude of cafes and restaurants, nice boutiques, exclusive Elizabeth Arden salon and day spas, and exotic gourmet food stores. Radiating from this heart on all four sides are quaint tree-lined residential areas, containing gingerbread houses and wooded mansions.
When I said gourmet food stores, you might think it must be a small store with bells above the door and an Italian/Greek proprietor. Ah well, this is America. What they have is a big-ass Whole Foods store, the kind of monstrosity that has 50 brands of goat cheese, 60 of Greek organic yogurt, and things organic and natural that you didn't think was possible or decent to use, such as coconut coated dates and pro-biotic dietary supplements. Isn't breast milk supposed to be rich in pro-biotics? Ye Gods!
The best feature of the store is of course the biggest hot and cold food aisles I have seen in stores of this category. An acquaintance in the hotel said that a pound of vegetable biriyani costs about 2.5 $. Ah yes, organic means you will find a variety of Indian foods and stuff in the store, renamed and bottled and probably patented, making your blood boil. I haven't tried the food yet, but I will.
On the first day of my walk thither, I of course got lost on my way back. I walked merrily along a residential path until I noticed that I have passed nothing that I can recognize yet, so I asked an old man with an energetic dog for directions. He looked at me as if I landed that minute from Mars when I said I was walking. "Oh dear!" he said, "Best of luck!"
The next day, I took S there, thoroughly confusing him with my navigation. But we discovered Chipotle as suggested by J. We were supposed to be having a serious discussion about account management, but I was so lost in the big fat burrito that I was useless. S gave up after my initial grunts approximating a ravening beast with its kill. He only reminded me that the tortilla was made of maida. Hah! As if I care! The cafeteria at office serves the yummiest chicken quesedillas on Thursdays that literally melt in the mouth.
The weather held up until Saturday (except one alarming spell of rain on Friday night) so I set out to the Chicago Botanic Gardens. Spread across 350 acres and containing 34 specialty gardens, it is mind blowing. It is the kind of place where you generally wander around with no particular agenda and stumble into one delight after another. Oh, here is a little garden overladen with tulips. Oh, there is the bridge across a lake into mysterious woods. Hey, I am in an English garden. Oh up these steps is coniferous woods? Oh look, that brook leads into the Japanese garden. Oh wow! this is the Sensory garden?
It is spring of course, so 75% of the garden is in bloom. There is a riot of color everywhere. Two places I really liked were the Greenhouse and the Japanese garden. The Greenhouse was a intense sensory experience. It was warm when I first I stepped into the cactus enclosure. Not as impressive as the cactus sanctuary I have seen in Kalimpong, but most of them were in bloom - nothing gets more elegant than cactus flowers. Then I wander and step into the tropical enclosure. Now it is not only warm, but I am sweating. But what caught me was I could smell the earth and flowers too! Oh, heady tropics! They have a good orchid collection.
I didn't expect the Japanese garden to be such an exceptional and almost spiritual experience. Well, I admit that my opinion of anything Japanese has been colored by their unapologetic war crimes, the cruelty of their bonsai tradition, and their mind numbing tea ceremony. But the garden has a stark beauty, a quietness that cannot be stirred. Of course the cherry trees were in full bloom, adding to that dreamy look. As I sat under a cherry tree for a spell, I was moved to compose a Haiku (although I never understood the form.)
World waits respectfully with folded hands
A moment under the cherry tree.
Petals falling.
Sorry for offending the sensibilities of Haiku lovers.
The only thing that mars the experience is the pseudo-spiritual shtick they have put up all over the garden. Sample: "In a Japanese garden, the path is your guide. It leads the way and tells you how to behave - uneven paths makes you go slow and take in the surroundings. Wide paths encourages you to be free and look up at the sky." ROFL MAO!
If you haven't already, check out my pics at: http://www.facebook.com/album.
Ok, now that I have made a sexual reference to catch your attention, let me move on to the main message.
Mercury rose steadily through the week - from low 8 - 10 degrees last weekend, it burgeoned to up to 17 degrees and even touched mid 20s a couple of times. Viva el sol! Weather Channel was sensationalizing a storm system caused by Jet Stream that was going to sweep across the south west and come up to Chicago with tornadoes and hail the size of golf balls, but it all came to bupkis. Now that they have got the Louisiana oil spill, Weather Channel has abandoned issuing panic warning on the impending storm. One feels sorry for a channel that needs national calamities that requires federal funding to get its TRP.
So we have been having crisp sunny days with strong winds which sometimes stepped on gas and got up to 45 mph. Emboldened by the weather, I set out walking one day after work and discovered the Deerfield Village, about 1.4 miles away from the hotel.
If you look up Deerfield IL on the Net, you will find that it is almost entirely a white town. They even diabolically and successfully plotted a project meant for poor black people out of the town, earning the nomenclature "Little Rock of the North". Be that as it may, it is a typical affluent white town - you know the type. European style village square with brick and stone buildings, prominent church with its tall stone spire and stained glass windows, paved stone walkways, multitude of cafes and restaurants, nice boutiques, exclusive Elizabeth Arden salon and day spas, and exotic gourmet food stores. Radiating from this heart on all four sides are quaint tree-lined residential areas, containing gingerbread houses and wooded mansions.
When I said gourmet food stores, you might think it must be a small store with bells above the door and an Italian/Greek proprietor. Ah well, this is America. What they have is a big-ass Whole Foods store, the kind of monstrosity that has 50 brands of goat cheese, 60 of Greek organic yogurt, and things organic and natural that you didn't think was possible or decent to use, such as coconut coated dates and pro-biotic dietary supplements. Isn't breast milk supposed to be rich in pro-biotics? Ye Gods!
The best feature of the store is of course the biggest hot and cold food aisles I have seen in stores of this category. An acquaintance in the hotel said that a pound of vegetable biriyani costs about 2.5 $. Ah yes, organic means you will find a variety of Indian foods and stuff in the store, renamed and bottled and probably patented, making your blood boil. I haven't tried the food yet, but I will.
On the first day of my walk thither, I of course got lost on my way back. I walked merrily along a residential path until I noticed that I have passed nothing that I can recognize yet, so I asked an old man with an energetic dog for directions. He looked at me as if I landed that minute from Mars when I said I was walking. "Oh dear!" he said, "Best of luck!"
The next day, I took S there, thoroughly confusing him with my navigation. But we discovered Chipotle as suggested by J. We were supposed to be having a serious discussion about account management, but I was so lost in the big fat burrito that I was useless. S gave up after my initial grunts approximating a ravening beast with its kill. He only reminded me that the tortilla was made of maida. Hah! As if I care! The cafeteria at office serves the yummiest chicken quesedillas on Thursdays that literally melt in the mouth.
The weather held up until Saturday (except one alarming spell of rain on Friday night) so I set out to the Chicago Botanic Gardens. Spread across 350 acres and containing 34 specialty gardens, it is mind blowing. It is the kind of place where you generally wander around with no particular agenda and stumble into one delight after another. Oh, here is a little garden overladen with tulips. Oh, there is the bridge across a lake into mysterious woods. Hey, I am in an English garden. Oh up these steps is coniferous woods? Oh look, that brook leads into the Japanese garden. Oh wow! this is the Sensory garden?
It is spring of course, so 75% of the garden is in bloom. There is a riot of color everywhere. Two places I really liked were the Greenhouse and the Japanese garden. The Greenhouse was a intense sensory experience. It was warm when I first I stepped into the cactus enclosure. Not as impressive as the cactus sanctuary I have seen in Kalimpong, but most of them were in bloom - nothing gets more elegant than cactus flowers. Then I wander and step into the tropical enclosure. Now it is not only warm, but I am sweating. But what caught me was I could smell the earth and flowers too! Oh, heady tropics! They have a good orchid collection.
I didn't expect the Japanese garden to be such an exceptional and almost spiritual experience. Well, I admit that my opinion of anything Japanese has been colored by their unapologetic war crimes, the cruelty of their bonsai tradition, and their mind numbing tea ceremony. But the garden has a stark beauty, a quietness that cannot be stirred. Of course the cherry trees were in full bloom, adding to that dreamy look. As I sat under a cherry tree for a spell, I was moved to compose a Haiku (although I never understood the form.)
World waits respectfully with folded hands
A moment under the cherry tree.
Petals falling.
Sorry for offending the sensibilities of Haiku lovers.
The only thing that mars the experience is the pseudo-spiritual shtick they have put up all over the garden. Sample: "In a Japanese garden, the path is your guide. It leads the way and tells you how to behave - uneven paths makes you go slow and take in the surroundings. Wide paths encourages you to be free and look up at the sky." ROFL MAO!
If you haven't already, check out my pics at: http://www.facebook.com/album.
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