parotechnics

Place where I learned a lot, about myself, about how beautiful birds can be, about how one way of keeping your heart intact is to leave bits of it in different places. Lovers know this, as do travelers.

Last night in Provincetown - rainy, cold, not pretending to be anything but itself, the town that was home for some time. Amy had a goodbye party which of course had great food - chorizo and shrimp skewers- and a killer cocktail made with white rum, strawberries, pineapples and a little orange juice. Also there, were Amanda, who had spent some time in Bangalore and was at the Fine Arts Work Centre, Vanessa&Liz whose video store I had haunted through my trip, renting a DVD a day, regularly and absent mindedly returning only the boxes, and Anna who I had met at their housewarming. Amy lectured on the how sugar neutralises the effects of alcohol. Right. And right on. PICTURE OF AMY'S BAR Like many goodbyes in these globalised times, this one too was oddly distracted - filled with the sense that it wasn't real, that I could come back, they could come to Bombay. We planned the menu for the restaurant we will one day open in Goa. I'll drink to that. My Ptown friends in Andher...

In talking of the histories of towns, past and present, one has to be careful to find the spot that's your locus standii. P-town and Bombay share something in common. The Portugese. Provincetwon had a large Portugese population - sailors and fishermen. And today it's got a big gay community. Perhaps these intertwined histories give the town it's feeling of openness. Small as it is, this is not a small minded town and when you walk on the streets, the air is easy. I've searched hard for a picture of these two histories. Not the usual funny ones of leather gear shops called Christopher Street, not the inscription on a house with the obvious name Gaspa. The Portugese Bakery opened just a few days before it was time for me to leave. It's over a hundred years old. And the pastry case made me feel oddly at home, with its meat patties and doughy sweets. In truth of course the sweets here are much nicer than Goan ones - most of which seem to be versions of gulgula, which is...

Bada tadpaya! But finally before I leave, just before I leave - I shot the cardinal!

Trying to get to the Beech forest has generally been an abortive enterprise. The first time my friend Katrina was supposed to take me I fell sick. The second time I went with Tara and kids and we got disheartened half way and didn't continue. All we saw were a couple gold finches and no amount of scattering crumbs and Mihir making guttural sounds that were supposed to be bird calls helped. Third time lucky! I had given up on the forest and then my friend Stefanie suddenly emailed to say she'd take me. We spent an afternoon walking there and at an abandoned salt marsh called Hatcher's Harbour. Finally there were birds, and I didn't just soared them winging! A downy woodpecker - which has V shaped black and white stripes and a slash of red on its head; Canadian geese fat and tame on endless bread; tit-mice with their square grey bodies and surfer hair-dos; red striped blackbirds, which have red under-wings, visible as a blood red streak when they are perched. The forest i...

Look carefully now for country of origin. Spotted on Commercial street, Provincetown.