Recipe: Simple, 3 ingredient Nutella cupcakes

I’ve been doing quite a bit of cooking these days, shocking, I know! I guess it’s a sign of growing old or something, but I’m enjoying it. I still refuse to cook regular Indian meals – the thought of that continues to make me want to cry. There’s too many different things to be made, and it’s all just too boring. Besides, I’m not terribly fond of Indian food despite having grown up on it. I’d rather try new flavors and new cuisines – sailing onwards on uncharted territories!

Now that the dramatics are out of the way – let me tell you what’s been bubbling away in the kitchen. A lot of interesting pastas (none with white sauce though, I never did like those much), a couple of chicken dishes (including a chicken curry, which for me is exotic since it’s a traditional Muslim recipe and yummy), a few rice-based delicacies and some baking (which for a change has been turning out right!).

I used to bake as a kid, back when mommy was around to supervise and check that the temperature was right and the timing perfect. Left to my own devices,, my cakes have typically burnt on the top, sunk in the middle and crumbled to the touch, leaving me in a flood of tears! But I’ve had two wins now, and since I’m still a little surprised about just how well they have turned out, I will share with you a super simple 3 ingredient Nutella cupcake recipe. If I can do this to perfection, anyone can!

So, without further ado, here we go:

Simple, 3 ingredient Nutella cupcake recipe

Ingredients:

1 small bottle of Nutella
1 large egg
5 tbsp maida (all-purpose flour)

Method:

1) Heat the oven to 150 degrees C. Line a 12-cup mini muffin pan with paper or foil liners.
2) Whisk Nutella and egg in a bowl until smooth and well blended. Add flour and continue to whisk until blended.
3) Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin tins (about 3/4 full).
4) Bake until a pick comes out with wet, gooey crumbs, about 16 minutes. Set on a rack to cool completely.

They’ll keep for up to 3 days at room temperature – if they last that long!

Notes:

1) Microwave the Nutella for a minute; it will make it flowy and easier to mix.
2) I baked mine in a star shaped silicone muffin pan; no need to grease.
3) Push out the cupcakes after about 30 mins, else they’ll come out 3-4 tiny pieces – not good!

Enjoy!

Got any Nutella recipes of your own? Do share in the comments!

Happy Diwali!

The festival of lights is here! It’s my favorite – a day when the house is adorned with flowers, colorful rangolis decorate the entrance, diyas are lit all over. A day for family and loved ones. A night of twinkling lights, of visiting friends and neighbors and relatives, and yes, of those infuriating fireworks that go on until all hours of the night!

I typically spend the first half of the day making a rangoli outside the door with flower petals, while the husband hangs garlands of marigold and Ashoka leaves at the entrance, in the balcony and on some of the doors. After relaxing in the afternoon, it’s time for pooja (prayers) in the evening, then we spend a quiet evening listening to music, drinking wine, talking. Bliss!

This year, my mother will be in town for Diwali, so we’ll go over to a cousin’s house after the pooja. That should be fun!

The window display at The Wishing Chair, Shahpur Jat, New Delhi

Here’s wishing all of you a very, very happy and prosperous Diwali. Be safe. Be happy!

If you’d like some more information on the festival of Diwali, take a look at these articles:

It’s the festival of lights! (An older post that gives some details on Diwali)
Light that lamp (A brief look at how and why Diwali is celebrated by different religions, from thehindu.com)

Book review: In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin

From the back cover: Moving from the elegant living rooms of Lahore to the mud villages of rural Multan, a powerful collection of short stories about feudal Pakistan.

This 247 page volume has eight loosely connected short stories, all related to the family and household staff of the aging landowner KK Harouni. There’s Nawabdin electrician, whose most prized possession is his bike, which he fights to protect from a bandit; and Jaglani, Harouni’s estate manager, who fleeces him while selling his land and gains power and prestige in the village of Multan. There’s Saleema, a servant girl who uses sex as a tool to advance herself through life and Hassan, Harouni’s cook, who has stashed away a significant amount of money by padding the kitchen bills, whose son is now in jail on the charge of having murdered his sister-in-law, a crime that he has not committed. Through the stories of these four characters Daniyal paints a picture of the servants of rich feudal landowners.

For a glimpse into the lives of the landowner and the high society of Pakistan we have Husna, one of Harouni’s poor relatives, who in her mad desire to lift her station in life becomes his mistress in his old age, only to be discarded like garbage by his children after his death. Then there’s Sohail, Harouni’s son, who is in love with an American girl. The relationship goes sour after his parents meet them in Paris, and his mother convinces Helen that by marrying Sohail, she would be setting them both up for sorrow. The depravity of high-society is portrayed through Lily, a bored, rich Pakistani girl, who flits from party to party, drinking, doing drugs and having casual sex, wanting to transform her life, become pure. A chance that she gets with Murad, who runs a farm growing exotic vegetables. They marry, but she can’t take life on the farm, and painfully, within a few months, realizes that she can perhaps never change. And through Razak, who has been hired by Sohail and his American wife Sonya to tend the orchards, we learn of the absolute power of the rich and the abject helplessness of the weak and poor.

The book creates quite a vivid picture of Pakistan. Despite the relatively short length of the stories, the various characters are quite detailed, and you get a good feel for feudal Pakistan. The writing is fluid, and I love the way the book ends – I’m not going to type out the entire paragraph here, just a few lines from various places in that paragraph to give you a sense of what I mean.

“At first the cabin sat inviolate below the swimming pool, locked….Gradually, like falling leaves, the locks were broken off, one person taking the thermos, another the wood table…The door of the little cabin hung open, the wind and blown rain scouring it clean.”

This was a fitting end for that particular short story, but if you think about it, it’s a fitting end for the entire tableau that Daniyal created; indeed, even for life. After all, at the end, all our prized possessions are slowly carted away or discarded, our homes stripped of the character that it once imbibed.

As an Indian, this was a fascinating read about a neighboring country that I don’t know all that much about and probably never will.

Disclaimer: I got a copy of this book from Random House India, but the review and opinions expressed are my own.

My favorite things

With Diwali, the festival of lights, just around the corner, I’ve been pouring over ideas for unique lighting ideas. And boy, there are so many that made me go Ooooh! Here are a few of my favorites…

I fell head over heels in love with these fairy lights in a cage – found on The Wishing Chair’s pinterest board. Aren’t these totally moody?

Then there are these fairy lights and butterflies around a mirror. They’d make a girl look tantalizing, don’t you think?

And these cool, colorful lanterns strung up along a window could be a decorative item from Diwali through New Year. You could also make it a part of your decor if you can pull it off right!

If you’ve got a crafty bone in your body (and by that I mean the DIY kind), you could try making these amazing egg carton flower lights. Aren’t they gorgeous?

Or maybe this glowing jar light…

Or how about this DIY bottle full of light? Just change the snowflake with something seasonal, and it could be a talking piece year-round!

Now it’s your turn – which one of these is your favorite?

Take a look at some more of my favorite things…

Book Review: The Wildings by Nilanjana Roy

The Wildings by Nilanjana Roy A small band of cats lives in the labyrinthine alleys and ruins of Nizamuddin, an old neighbourhood in Delhi. Miao, the clan elder, a wise, grave Siamese; Katar, a cat loved by his followers and feared by his enemies; Hulo, the great warrior tom; Beraal, the beautiful queen, swift and deadly when challenged; Southpaw, the kitten whose curiosity can always be counted on to get him into trouble… Unfettered and wild, these and the other members of the tribe fear no one, go where they will, and do as they please. Until, one day, a terrified orange-coloured kitten with monsoon green eyes and remarkable powers, lands in their midst—setting off a series of extraordinary events that will change their world forever.

That terrified cat is Mara, a tiny orange furball who lives with the Bigfeet. Rescued from a drain, her first message to the rest of the cats is: “Mara is worried! Mara is all alone with the Bigfeet! They are scary and they talk all the time, and I do not like being picked up and turned upside down!”

That powerful sending makes Beraal almost fall off her perch and set the rest of the Nizzamuddin cats’ whisker’s on edge. For Mara is special; she’s a Sender. While all cats can link up and talk to one another, only a Sender is capable of sending strong transmissions, where its fur seems to brush by the listener, its words and scents touching the listeners’ whiskers. But none of the cats except Miao can remember a Sender among them, and even she wasn’t this strong. Since the Nizamuddin cats cannot place the Sender’s scent, they decide to kill her. Beraal is tasked with the job, but when she locates Mara, she finds herself unable to land the killing blow. Because apart from being a powerful Sender, Mara is also a charmer; everyone who meets her soon falls under her spell.

An illustration from The Wildings by Nilanajana Roy So Beraal takes Mara under her wing to teach her how to control her powers. On one of her experiments, to see how far she can send, Mara travels all the way to the Delhi Zoo, where she meets Ozzy – a Ranthambore tiger, his mate Rani and their cub Rudra. Needless to say, even the tigers fall for Mara’s charms.

But Senders don’t come along that often – they typically come during times of dire need. The cats can’t figure out why the Sender’s here now, because the going has been really good. Little do they know the danger that lurks around the corner, just biding its time. For when the Shuttered House opens, the ferals will come out. This is a band of cats, led by Datura, who live in the house with an ailing man. Having never stepped out of the house, never smelt the outside, these cats have gone rouge. And it’s just a matter of time before their worlds collide.

The Wildings is a stunning, richly imagined debut by columnist and editor Nilanjana Roy. By now I’m sure you’ve figured out that the main characters are the cats and the other animals and birds that live in Nizamuddin. The story is told from their perspective, in their voice and language. And it’s so well done that you’d be forgiven for thinking that a cat learnt how to write and spun this yarn for us Bigfeet!

I found myself staying up well beyond bedtime devouring this book. Then, as I reached the last two-thirds, I started getting distracted – setting the book aside and playing a game of Solitaire or checking my Twitter and Facebook feeds obsessively. Not because the book lost pace, but because I didn’t want it to end! In fact, as I was flipping through the pages looking for an illustration that I’d like to share in this review, I found myself getting pulled into the story again! I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m going to start re-reading the book very soon.

I can’t end the review without mentioning the wonderful illustrations by Prabha Mallya. Her beautiful work echoes the tone of the story without giving much away if you just causally flip through the book. Apparently, she undertook a textured, tactile illustration process, in which constructing, cutting, taping, splotching, stonewashing and layering featured prominently. And it shows. One of my favourite illustrations is the diagrams depicting a cat’s grooming process – I’ve seen all these actions multiple times a day courtesy my very own furball Pepo!

My cat, Pepo

If you’re a cat lover or cat-owed, you’ll love this book. If you’re not, chances are you’ll find yourself falling in love with (or at the very least, developing a soft spot for) cats. But whichever camp you fall in, go out and buy this book. Now! You will not regret it!

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

Delhi Lens: Andhra Bhavan, CP – restaurant review

I’ve heard rave reviews about Andhra Bhavan from friends and even from the husband, but never had the opportunity to go there myself until recently. And boy, was I in for a treat!

Located in the quiet, tree-lined Ahsoka Road in the Connaught Place area, inside the Andhra Bhavan, is this small little foodie paradise. It scores high on food and low on ambience – be warned, it is a canteen. It is crowded. And noisy. There are plastic tables and chairs. You have to wait for a table. But it is so worth it!

We reached there around 3:00 pm on a Saturday. Most of the other patrons looked like local Andhraites, an excellent indicator of the quality of the food. And the food is cheap. I mean, seriously cheap. The thali is pure vegetarian, meats are ordered as a side dish. Since both my friend and I are light eaters, we opted for one side dish each – a mutton fry and a chicken fry – along with our thalis. And that set us back by a grand total of INR 460. Which is what a single dish costs at most establishments. Oh, and did I mention it’s an unlimited thali?

Since we arrived for lunch at 3:00, we were able to get a table immediately and the crowd started thinning soon, so overall, I’d say that’s a good time to visit. Just have a slightly heavy breakfast so you don’t faint on your way there and you’re set!

The thali has 3 vegetables, rasam, sambhar, dal (lentils), 2 poppadams, puris, rice and a sweet dish. On that particular Saturday we had pumpkin, which was nicely mashed up and retained its sweetness; a tomato, onion and courgette vegetable, which almost tasted like a chutney – the tanginess of the tomatoes complemented perfectly with the slight sweetness of the onions; and potatoes, which were quite similar in taste to the potato filling in dosas – not a taste I am particularly fond of. The rasam was piping hot and spicy without burning the tongue. The sambhar was very flavourful, not like the tamarind-heavy concoction that most run-of-the-mill South Indian restaurants serve. You could taste the flavours of the dal with the tamarind and other spices and the individual sweetness of the vegetables. And the mutton fry was simply to die for! Soft, melt in your mouth bite-sized pieces of mutton flavoured to perfection with the spices, coconut and curry leaves that Andhra cuisine is famous for. The chicken fry also had its own distinctive look and taste – a perfect melding of the spices and the meat.

There are also a number of pickles on the table, but I didn’t try any. What you must have, though, is gunpowder (also kept on the table). It’s made with a number of dals and spices, including split gram, moong dal, chana dal, red chilli powder, black pepper, asafoetida, cumin seeds and salt dry roasted and ground together into a powder. You take a couple of spoons of gunpowder, put 1–2 teaspoons of ghee over it and make it into a paste. Have it with rice. Yummy!! I had it in copious quantities – and unlike what I feared, it wasn’t unbearably fiery. Or maybe my palette has evolved!

Once we started eating, all conversation stopped, so engrossed were we in the flavours and the food. The staff was courteous, and they came around with re-fills as soon as we could ask for them.

All-in-all, if you can ignore the ambience, this place is a must-visit for the food. I know I will be going back for more soon!

Book review: The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco

The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco (book cover) 19th century Europe, from Turin to Prague to Paris, abounds with the ghastly and the mysterious. Conspiracies rule history. Jesuits plot against Freemasons. Italian priests are strangled with their own intestines. French criminals plan bombings by day and celebrate black masses by night. every nation has its own secret service, perpetrating forgeries, plots, and massacres. From the unification of Italy to the Paris Commune to the Dreyfus Affair to the notorious forgery The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, Europe is in tumult and everyone needs a scapegoat. But what if, behind both these conspiracies both real and imagined, lay just one man? What if that evil genius created the most infamous document of all?

That, then, is the premise of The Prague Cemetery.

I’ve always been attracted to Umberto Eco’s books, but never really had the courage to actually read one. So when I got an opportunity to review this book, I jumped at the chance.

But it wasn’t an easy read. In fact, within the first 10 pages I was cursing myself for taking it on . It starts with such hatred – for Jews, Italians, Germans, French, women, that it’s hard to read. Until you realize that Simonini, the architect of the entire conspiracy, is an evil man. Pure evil. It takes that to do what he did – create a forgery that led to the persecution of the Jews, of which he was actually proud! Then, once I managed to get through that part, it started to become confusing, what with the Carbonaras, Garibaldi, Piedmont and The Kingdom of Two Sicilies. This is a part of history I wasn’t too familiar with.

A 1934 edition by the Patriotic Publishing Company of Chicago. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Then, remembering something I had read once about Eco – that he sets off into history confident that the reader will be able to keep up with him – I took a deep breath, set my horror aside, and jumped right into the book. And realized just what that comment meant.

I referred to the guide at the back of the book where Eco lists the relationship between the plot and the story to ensure I got the time periods right, and I was sailing right through it.

The entire novel is told through Simonini’s diary. When he seems to forget some events, the mysterious Abbe Dalla Picolla pops onto the scene to fill out the gaps. These gentlemen live in adjoining flats and are quite oblivious that they are neighbors, occasionally finding traces of each other in their apartment. So while Simonini is confused about who he really is, he locks himself in his house and scribbles away in his diary to get to the root of his problem, as was recommend to him once by Dr. Freud. When Simonini and Dalla Picolla’s accounts get confusing, the Narrator steps in to clear things out.

And so you set off on a journey through the unification of Italy, Garibaldi’s campaign, and the French revolution. It’s not always easy, considering the numerous conspiracies and espionage and counter-espionage and treason woven through the book, and given that it’s all true, except for the character of Simonini. In fact, some of those truths are very relevant today.

Like this conspiracy attributed to the Jews:

Old Jewish Cemetery, Prague (Photo credit: GothPhil)

We shall bring about a universal economic crisis using all secret means possible, with the help of gold, which is all in our hands. We will reduce vast hordes of workers throughout Europe to ruin. These masses will then throw themselves with alacrity upon those who, in their ignorance, have been prudent since their childhood, and will plunder their possessions and spill their blood.

The Eurozone debt crisis, anyone? Isn’t that what this, in a way, is?

And Simonini’s observation about the population in 1860 are probably even more relevant today:

I’ve heard it said that over a billion people inhabit this earth. I don’t know how anyone could count them but from one look around Palermo it’s quote clear that there are too many of us and that we’re already stepping on each other’s toes.

I liked the way Eco built up Simonini’s character. As you read the book, you realize his triggers, the factors that shaped his ideology, and the way he justified everything that he does. The book is also richly populated with historical characters – from Dr. Freud to Dumas and even a guest appearance by Monet. Gives you a real feel for the place and the time, and raises your curiosity, making you want to read more history – which is a great thing for a historical novel to accomplish.

An illustration from The Prague Cemetery

More chilling is the portrait of man – of the depravity and scheming that goes on behind the scenes of every political regime, of the selling of morals just for a few francs. Most chilling, perhaps, is the picture of the secret service, who

is lost when he has to deal with something that has already happened. It’s our job to make it happen first. We’re spending substantial amounts of money organizing riots on the boulevards…To ensure that decent citizens are kept in a state of fear, and to convince everyone that tough measures are needed.

This made me wonder if maybe modern day politicians have read this book and taken this paragraph to heart.

Oh, and the many illustrations in the book – a majority of which are from Eco’s own collection, are excellent – helping you to more richly imagine the people and settings Eco describes in the book.

All-in-all, if you’re willing to put in some effort, you will be richly rewarded for reading this book.

Disclaimer: I got a copy of this book from Random House India, but the review and opinions expressed are my own.

An Ode to the Forgotten Art of Letter Writing

When was the last time you wrote a letter? Or received one?

I received two in the span of two weeks. The first was from @raghavmodi along with a book that I won at the end of The Sunday Book Club Twitter chat. (More details on the chat to come soon, so watch this space for more!) The second was from Random House India, with a really cute jute bag they sent me.

And both times, I felt an irrational urge to sit down with paper and pen and write a letter back. But in this digital age, when I’m connected with everyone “real time” through email, What’s App, Facebook and Twitter, there’s no real need to write anymore.

Lost are the joys of receiving letters…of watching out for the mailman to drop the mail off…of sitting down with a pen poised over a blank sheet of paper, gathering my thoughts before I begin to draft a response. Now things are immediate. As soon as something of note happens, my sister in New York knows about it through What’s App, my parents in Pune are given all the details breathlessly over the phone or via SMS, and friends get updates through Facebook and Twitter.

In a few years more, letter writing may indeed be a lost art. And wouldn’t that be a shame?

But there are some noteworthy initiatives out there. Like the Daily Rumpus’ Letters in the Mail, through which subscribers get letters from famous people three to four times a month for a fee. Some of the letters were typed, others handwritten. Some include illustrations, all were signed. They are then photo-copied and sent to subscribers.

The real nostalgia that I feel is for actual letter exchanges. The ones where you can see where the writer hesitated, where they crossed out an unformed thought, where their pen ran out of ink, or leaked out and blotted the paper. Spots where tears were shed or water was spilled. Little flourishes like a quick sketch or a trellis decorating the margins.

In my nostalgia, I sat down and went through the letters I exchanged with my boyfriend (now the husband) when we were dating. I was in Mumbai he was in Delhi and those letters were our primary way of keeping in touch – along with phone calls and emails – but the letters were still diligently written. Each one was sent with something – a pressed flower, a card, small mementos such as key chains and once even a box of potpourri.

Then there were the letters I used to write to my father, a Chief Engineer in the merchant navy. Little girl’s letters, young teen’s letters, young adult’s letters, until finally these were also replaced by emails.

Then there were pen pals. People I met on my travels abroad who were fascinated with the little girl from India. A few letters were exchanged. Some friendships were forged and then forgotten in the sands of time and due to the faulty Indian postal system.

But now I can’t remember the last time I wrote a letter or received one. Until I got these two notes after a gap of years and years and years.

What about you – do you still write and receive letters? Or do you, like me, sometimes feel nostalgic for old fashioned, hand written letters?

Book review: How About A Sin Tonight? By Novoneel Chakraborty

Set in the glamorous world of Bollywood, the book traces the lives of four main characters as their lives intersect one another.

The premise of the novel is interesting – a casting coup that brings together the biggest Bollywood star Saharan Ali Bakshi, his wife Reva Gupta, newcomer Neev, celebrity kid Nishani and her childhood friend Kaash. All of their lives are interwoven – Reva and Neel began their struggle to enter the industry together. As they interacted with one another, they fell in love and started living together. But Neel was a Casanova and Reva had a sexual relationship with another man she never saw (they met in dark rooms, apparently) to get back at him. Then, a chance encounter with Saharan opened new doors for Reva, and she left Neel for her shot at stardom.

Ever since Nishani kissed him when they were children, Kaash has secretly loved her and would do anything for her. Although they were in the same school, Kaash’s family moved suddenly and they lost touch with one another. Through a few chance encounters, Kaash ended up with a role in a low budget movie that went on to do really well, and happened to bump into Nishani at a Bollywood party.

Nishani is the daughter of forgotten superstar Shekhar Rai. During a shooting with then newcomer Saharan, a freak accident left him paralyzed – both physically and emotionally. He was never a father to Nishani, and for that she blames Saharan and vows to destroy him.

And Saharan is in still haunted by this first love Mehfil, a prostitute whom he met while he was still struggling to get a toehold in Bollywood. As their stories take center stage, the industry’s underbelly is left exposed and the gossip-hungry media has enough on it’s plate to last a lifetime.

First, the good: The basic story is interesting – love and hate and lust and revenge all set in Bollywood. There are some interesting reflections on love and relationships. The letters Kaash writes (but never posts) to Nishani are nice, though sometimes it’s hard to believe that those deep reflections could come from the pen of a young man.

The story starts well, but the writing starts getting on your nerves very soon. I’ll never understand why most Indian authors can’t write simple prose. Why does everything have to be forced and convoluted? Like this:

It was raining morning, noon, and night. Streets, along with their numerous dimples of potholes, were filled with water most of the times. From a bird’s eye view, Bombay would have looked like an omnivore’s digestive tract with everything – from snakes to human infants – swimming in water filled lanes, streets and roads.

Then there’s the forced dirty language, and just the horrible grammar. Like this:

Nishani could have stripped him of his pretence and spit on his pathetic nude self, but she played on because all she was interested in knowing was why they were sharing time when neither wanted to get married. And one didn’t want the sex part either.

This didn’t need the stripping and nude and spitting on anyone bits. It could have been just as effective if it had been kept simple. Maybe something like: Nishani saw through his excuses, but allowed him to try and justify himself.

Then, there are parts of the novel that could just have been cut off – some of the earlier lives of the charterers are unnecessarily long and don’t really contribute anything to the story.

Some of the key characters are a collection of cliches. Think of a starlet who is trying to get into the movies without a godfather. Chances are she would be willing to do anything – even be part of the casting couch – to get a break in the industry. That’s Reva for you. She’s confused about love, will do anything to get into Bollywood, treats sex casually and still has guilt issues attached to it. That’s about all you know about her, really.

All-in-all, the book could have used some serious editing, with portions of it needing a rewrite. Read this one at your own risk!

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from Random House India. I was not financially compensated for posting this review, nor are my reviews influenced by the publisher. The opinions expressed are my own and are based on my observations while reading this novel.

My top three travel memories

The Competition is organized and conducted by www.lowcostholidays.com. From July 30th, team Captains of the participating blogger groups will start their leg of the Blogger Relay race by sharing the top three memories of their favourite travel destinations and ranking them 1st, 2nd and 3rd, before passing the Travel Baton on to a fellow blogger, who will then also list their top 3 travel memories. They too will then pass the baton. The Team in the longest chain by the end of the competition all win the Blogger Relay! (And, more importantly, a prize!)

As I take hold of the #TeamPurple #BloggerRelay baton from Sudhagee, I am immersed in my past. I’ve traveled a lot, and not much. I’ve been to most parts of the world, though a lot of those travels are dim memories from my childhood.

Having a father in the merchant navy meant that we traveled a lot – almost every summer vacation was spent on the ship, traveling to numerous destinations both near and far. That exposure to the huge world out there gave me a serious travel bug, but alas, that bug can only be indulged properly about once a year.

Since I got married 10 years ago, the husband and I have traveled to a lot of places around India. There’s so much to be explored in our country, so many cities I had not visited as I spent most of my childhood traveling to countries far and wide. And while I do remember a lot from my various trips abroad as a child, my top three memories are from holidays that I took as an adult.

#3: Nawalgarh, Rajasthan

On the third spot with the Bronze medal I’d rate my trip to Nawalgarh in Rajasthan. Still off the beaten track, it was a pleasure to explore the city. Located in the Shekhawati region, it is known as Rajastahan’s outdoor art gallery. The old havelis (large houses) in this region have got some fantastic murals, both outside on the walls and within the houses. Some of the havelis are very well maintained, others are sadly ignored, but the paintings are lovely. Wandering through one of the havelis will take you through Indian history, from the first railway station to the courts of the king; through European cities; and Indian mythology. The sheer novelty and laid back pace of that vacation makes it one of my cherished travel memories.

#2: Disneyland, Orlando

In second position, claiming the Silver medal, is my trip to Disneyland, Orlando, with my parents last year. What can I say about Disneyland? It’s absolutely fantastic, something that everyone must do at least once in their lives. Plus, you’re really never too old to be swept off your feet by the magic of Disney! The attention to detail, the passion of the people working there, the vibrancy in the air, getting my photo clicked with some of my favorite Disney characters (yes, really!) are memories to be treasured. The five days I spent there were truly magical. They made me feel like a kid once again! Some awesome rides, lovely stage shows, the Disney parade, the fireworks, and the exhilaration I felt there with my parents are etched into my memory forever.

#1: New York City

The winner by far, claiming the Gold medal, is my visit to New York City. The vibrancy, the shopping, the people, the museums…just the thought of it brings a smile to my lips. The major highlight of the trip has to be my visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s a place that has been on my must-visit list since I was a teen. I was unprepared for it’s vastness…but the experience was mind-blowing! Actually seeing masterpieces by some of my favorite artists was surreal. Taking in the gorgeous sculptures, the Temple of Dendur, the fine Japanese artwork, the pottery…and ending the evening on the steps of the Met as I processed the entire experience was a dream come true.

As I emerge from these daydreams of trips past, I pass the #TeamPurple baton on to Becki…

Neil Barnes of Backpacks and Bunkbeds, is the captain of #TeamPurple and you can read the posts of the other team members here.

Now it’s your turn. What is your top travel memory?