I don't know how to say it in Tamil.
On the other hand, we have:
it is nice to meet you = ON-GA-LAY PAK-KA SAN-DO-SHAM
I can do that.
I will be signing off my blogging duties for the next week, as I trek across the globe, seeking fine garments and Life Experiences. May I offer two helpful suggestions to fill the two to six minute intervals you, as a reader of this blog, might now find free.
-Go back and read some of the old posts that you skipped over because they seemed weird.
-Write a comment on any post. You can do it. I know you can. Feel free to just press some random keys on the keyboard and see what comes out. It will be like art.
-Visit some of these sites to the right that I have recommended as "Other Good Ones." May I recommend especially glassesglasses as it has a new format, very streamlined, chic, and my essays are available for longer consumption.
But then don't forget to come back, for tales of the East, for freckles in the tropical, for carrying your own toilet paper, for golden coins sold at the post office, for cumin scented luggage, for friendship and earrings and weddings and rice and deep vein thrombosis and... no, don't worry.
xoxoxo
Anx anx anx anx anx anx
That is the noise made by the elusive Anxietatis Pontificus Nervicus, the sightless and nocturnal rodent who is drawn out of his hole only by the wafting fumes of nervous sweat.
Other things that he likes include but are not limited to: to-do lists, bitten fingernails, crossed eyes, temporomandibular joint and muscle disorders (TMJ), trans-Atlantic voyages and airport security lines, liquid soap in two ounce clear plastic bottles, school, homework, assignments, and deadlines of any kind at all.
There is one of them living under my desk and lots of them under the subway.
Other things that he likes include but are not limited to: to-do lists, bitten fingernails, crossed eyes, temporomandibular joint and muscle disorders (TMJ), trans-Atlantic voyages and airport security lines, liquid soap in two ounce clear plastic bottles, school, homework, assignments, and deadlines of any kind at all.
There is one of them living under my desk and lots of them under the subway.
Oh, that explains everything,
DTaP vaccine side-effects
(Diphtheria, Tetanus, and acellular Pertussis)
Prolonged irritability and fussiness (up to 1 child in 3).
The State of the Apartment Address
It was just like old times, we gathered around the, well, we don't have television, but I set up my computer as a practical substitute. We listened carefully but noted the opportune moments for joke-making. The grizzled faces of the staunch, the settled. A remarkable number of bright yellow blazers. The requisite American-flag pin, a little superstition, a little costume. We figured, at the beginning, that the speech would be comprised of 1. semi-detailed support evidence and 2. a healthy dose of get a fucking grip, America. We were right and decided it might not be a bad idea for everyone to announce their annual progress to a group of peers.
The State of the Apartment.
Good evening, fellow dwellers.
Every year it is my duty to present to you the facts, as I see them. It is not an easy time, but then, it never was. We ought to first count our blessings; our low rent, the high ceilings. Our friendly landlord, just downstairs. The opening of a new coffee shop up the street.
I would like to state for the record that the mouse problem was here before I moved in. Let's get the facts straight. I guarantee that by August all of the mice will be removed from this apartment, saving us time and energy on elaborate peanut butter corner trap setups. I am creating a special commission for the eradication of crumbs from the butcher block.
I will also ask us to work together to not pull so hard on the front door handle, which continues to dismantle itself and clatter to the floor, at inopportune moments, like when you are running out the door or trying to make a stealth entrance. Together, we can do this. Gently.
If the bathtub continues its isolating behavior of clogging, I resolve to shower less. I’ll show it who’s boss. I will NOT be resigned to second best. That goes for décor, too. Stand by as we agree to paint the living room. And by God, there will be chalkboard paint in an aesthetically appealing location.
[Applause.]
The State of the Apartment.
Good evening, fellow dwellers.
Every year it is my duty to present to you the facts, as I see them. It is not an easy time, but then, it never was. We ought to first count our blessings; our low rent, the high ceilings. Our friendly landlord, just downstairs. The opening of a new coffee shop up the street.
I would like to state for the record that the mouse problem was here before I moved in. Let's get the facts straight. I guarantee that by August all of the mice will be removed from this apartment, saving us time and energy on elaborate peanut butter corner trap setups. I am creating a special commission for the eradication of crumbs from the butcher block.
I will also ask us to work together to not pull so hard on the front door handle, which continues to dismantle itself and clatter to the floor, at inopportune moments, like when you are running out the door or trying to make a stealth entrance. Together, we can do this. Gently.
If the bathtub continues its isolating behavior of clogging, I resolve to shower less. I’ll show it who’s boss. I will NOT be resigned to second best. That goes for décor, too. Stand by as we agree to paint the living room. And by God, there will be chalkboard paint in an aesthetically appealing location.
[Applause.]
Maybe you are wondering where the straw hat came from:
It came from Rite Aid, in Albany, NY, in the strip mall which also boasts the coffee and bagel emporium known as Uncommon Grounds; where you can buy an Italian soda or a chocolate covered espresso bean with your chicken salad sandwich. It cost about nine dollars and because it is a relatively fragile article of clothing I left it at my parent's house, which is also in Albany, NY, down the street from the high school, which was recently rated one of the worst schools in the state. I didn't want to carry the straw hat with me on the train, which runs from Albany, NY to New York City, NY, because my suitcase, which is cheetah-print, was too full of other things. Or maybe I just forgot it, because my parents drove me to New York City, from Albany, on the highway, in their new car, which is blue. Dark blue. Either way, I have a present need for such an accessory, because of my impending travel plans, which will take me from New York City, NY, to Chennai, Tamil Nadu. It will be tropical there, which means, hot, sunny, and humid. The hat arrived, in New York City, from Albany, via the United States Postal Service, in a recycled brown box which my mother mailed, by taking it to the post office and paying someone money to deliver it. Also in the box:
1. Black tights from Kohl's, a store which does not have a retail location in New York City.
2. A black cardigan of unknown origin, which is to say, the tag indicates that at one point it was for sale at a J. Crew store but I am uncertain as to its reason for being in the box, it is not mine but I think that after today I can consider it mine, unless I give it to someone else, if it looks unattractive on me.
3. A book, more specifically a novel, which takes place in the country of India and is written by a woman who was born and/or spent her life in that aforementioned country.
4. An Irish fisherman's sweater, either purchased by or hand-knit by my paternal grandmother, whom I never met, as she died before I was born. It is a good sweater and will not, unlike the some of the other things in the box, be used on or for any part of my trip.
5. A candy cane.
1. Black tights from Kohl's, a store which does not have a retail location in New York City.
2. A black cardigan of unknown origin, which is to say, the tag indicates that at one point it was for sale at a J. Crew store but I am uncertain as to its reason for being in the box, it is not mine but I think that after today I can consider it mine, unless I give it to someone else, if it looks unattractive on me.
3. A book, more specifically a novel, which takes place in the country of India and is written by a woman who was born and/or spent her life in that aforementioned country.
4. An Irish fisherman's sweater, either purchased by or hand-knit by my paternal grandmother, whom I never met, as she died before I was born. It is a good sweater and will not, unlike the some of the other things in the box, be used on or for any part of my trip.
5. A candy cane.
Just so everyone is aware of what is going on:
I am wearing my straw hat at work at my desk in the office in my rolling chair and it is cloudy and bitterly cold outside and there is not any yellow in the sunshine at all. I have lace shoes on and am generally making a springtime spectacle of myself. I have a sore arm and a prescription for typhoid vaccine. I have a spreadsheet and a Google map and a list one mile - no, kilometer long. I have two ounce sunscreen and two ounce men's deodorant, which was the best smelling option. I have a smile on my face (OK, that's a lie) and a song in my heart and a 463 page novel to read.
Instead of working hard I am testing all the office pens to make sure they still work. If they don't, I will throw them away.
I just found one that has four color options; red, green, blue, or black. What. An. Exciting. World. We. Live. In.
Instead of working hard I am testing all the office pens to make sure they still work. If they don't, I will throw them away.
I just found one that has four color options; red, green, blue, or black. What. An. Exciting. World. We. Live. In.
Wherein I create a poem by adding returns to the ends of sentences in a paragraph;
The easier the job,
the larger the margin
for error.
Disagree? Why do you think people get hit by a cars while crossing the street?
Left, right, left.
A helpful, primary colored orb.
A stick man, frozen in white time,
glittering his safe passageway.
What about my job - a thick pile of paper, directly written.
A spoken order, in order,
a telephone's jangly whine.
What could possibly be so challenging about practiced robotics?
Oh.
The scientist's dilemma...
belief.
Or, maybe, the actor's dilemma:
sustained belief.
I spend too much time with my chin heavy in my hand for any energetic pretending.
Every day, my energy for pretending diminishes.
And so we come to today, a gray folder bristling with financial information,
found quivering and tucked behind an assortment of useless blanks,
and so today, I open it,
coughing at the dust to find the shivering beast within,
these timestamped papers, this
notification of importance, the King's seal.
I am seized, by the court marshal of guilt, and
frozen, by the stun gun of inevitability which is that eventually,
I will do something terrible.
Everyone does, and eventually,
even this most choreographed of dance will cause me to trip and fall,
and eventually,
and nearly,
one day I will have a job with
more than one responsibility so that
when I fail
I fail within a sweet bed of success.
This is why people smoke cigarettes.
the larger the margin
for error.
Disagree? Why do you think people get hit by a cars while crossing the street?
Left, right, left.
A helpful, primary colored orb.
A stick man, frozen in white time,
glittering his safe passageway.
What about my job - a thick pile of paper, directly written.
A spoken order, in order,
a telephone's jangly whine.
What could possibly be so challenging about practiced robotics?
Oh.
The scientist's dilemma...
belief.
Or, maybe, the actor's dilemma:
sustained belief.
I spend too much time with my chin heavy in my hand for any energetic pretending.
Every day, my energy for pretending diminishes.
And so we come to today, a gray folder bristling with financial information,
found quivering and tucked behind an assortment of useless blanks,
and so today, I open it,
coughing at the dust to find the shivering beast within,
these timestamped papers, this
notification of importance, the King's seal.
I am seized, by the court marshal of guilt, and
frozen, by the stun gun of inevitability which is that eventually,
I will do something terrible.
Everyone does, and eventually,
even this most choreographed of dance will cause me to trip and fall,
and eventually,
and nearly,
one day I will have a job with
more than one responsibility so that
when I fail
I fail within a sweet bed of success.
This is why people smoke cigarettes.
Here is a game we played last night:
"What food will be available for purchase at the Abu Dhabi airport?"
"A turkey wrap?"
"A tuna melt."
"A Chef's salad!"
"Beans on toast."
"Starbucks..."
"Chicken Korma?"
"A yogurt parfait?"
"SUSHI!"
"Abu Dhabi Duty Free’s Piano Bar on the mezzanine level of the shopping complex is proving to be very popular with the travelling [sic] public. The piano bar is a highly stylish bar featuring a full size piano, and decorated in black and white. The bar serves caviar, canapes and champagne and vodka as well as a full range of standard beverages. Prices are very reasonable with a full plate of luxury smoked salmon canapes along with a glass of bubbly set at around US$19. In a new departure, the piano bar also retails smoked salmon and caviar directly to the public. The piano bar is open from 4.00 p.m. until 4.00 a.m. daily."
"A turkey wrap?"
"A tuna melt."
"A Chef's salad!"
"Beans on toast."
"Starbucks..."
"Chicken Korma?"
"A yogurt parfait?"
"SUSHI!"
"Abu Dhabi Duty Free’s Piano Bar on the mezzanine level of the shopping complex is proving to be very popular with the travelling [sic] public. The piano bar is a highly stylish bar featuring a full size piano, and decorated in black and white. The bar serves caviar, canapes and champagne and vodka as well as a full range of standard beverages. Prices are very reasonable with a full plate of luxury smoked salmon canapes along with a glass of bubbly set at around US$19. In a new departure, the piano bar also retails smoked salmon and caviar directly to the public. The piano bar is open from 4.00 p.m. until 4.00 a.m. daily."
Why it is a bad idea to read too much into every single thing,
though who's to say that everything isn't a sign from a cruel and jealous god? The trash on the street this morning, blown about like wreckage, the garbage truck a sinking ship in this rain, chucking the excess weight overboard. I didn't get any message from this except boots are the best shoe but when I woke up last night with a searing pain I immediately assigned it a meaning. Perhaps things that come in the middle of the night are all associated with dreams, which we associate with deeper meanings, though if I acted in accordance with my dreams I would not be permitted by law to use this internet connection. Anyway so the pain pulsed from my left, ring finger, whatever that means, whatever that means, I will say: the garbage truck woke me up, and throw it overboard with the rest of the psychic messages I don't receive.
Wherein I make friends with the machines in my office for lack of better company,
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's having a metaphysical breakdown."
"Oh. So... it's not going to come out?"
"It's never going to come out of it."
"No, I mean the paper. The paper's not going to come out."
"Oh. No."
The copy machine has taken a fit, it's throwing a postmodern tantrum, it's having a crisis of self-definition. I understand, I've been there, but thank god I have the power of language to sort through my crises. The poor guy, all he has is one touch-screen, smeared with the blunt jabs of an engineer's heavy finger. And a red alert-light.
The light comes on, a dull, pinkish glow, and the screen displays an image of the machine, a self-portrait, a pixelated indication of nothing. This is who I am, it seems to say. This is who I am and this is all I'll ever be and frankly, it is just too much to go on.
"It's having a metaphysical breakdown."
"Oh. So... it's not going to come out?"
"It's never going to come out of it."
"No, I mean the paper. The paper's not going to come out."
"Oh. No."
The copy machine has taken a fit, it's throwing a postmodern tantrum, it's having a crisis of self-definition. I understand, I've been there, but thank god I have the power of language to sort through my crises. The poor guy, all he has is one touch-screen, smeared with the blunt jabs of an engineer's heavy finger. And a red alert-light.
The light comes on, a dull, pinkish glow, and the screen displays an image of the machine, a self-portrait, a pixelated indication of nothing. This is who I am, it seems to say. This is who I am and this is all I'll ever be and frankly, it is just too much to go on.
Other ways to make friends include,
Stand on the street, wait for the bus, wait for the bus standing on the street, forget your headphones, forget your headphones on a day when you have to stand on the street waiting for the bus, look in both directions, one way for criminals the other way for the bright headlights of your ride home, look back the other way, criminals, look back the other way and get disappointed by a dump truck, which has nearly the same yellow and blinding illumination as a city bus, coming to take you away. Consult the schedule pointedly, and reference your time-piece, for the benefit of the potential criminal to your right, acting out the specific behavior of bus waiting, so that it is no longer indistinguishable from hooking, seeing as you are standing on the corner, with nothing - nothing at all to insulate you from predatorial conversationalists. Then a girl comes, and she has lipstick and bright eyes and you have wine mouth and no headphones, so you are free discuss the unknown quantity of the arrival of the bus, hedging your bets and calculating probabilities.
"Get home safe," she calls out, and it is a secret society of humans who don't wish each other dead or compromised.
"Get home safe," she calls out, and it is a secret society of humans who don't wish each other dead or compromised.
Ray Bradbury never drove, so why do I have to?
Farenheit 451 was published before we and most of our neighbors in Osterville even owned TVs. Ray Bradbury himself may not have owned one. He still may not own one. To this day, Ray can't drive a car and hates to ride in airplanes.
In any case, Ray [Bradbury] was sure as heck prescient. Just as people with dysfunctional kidneys are getting perfect ones from hospitals nowadays, Americans with dysfunctional social lives, like the woman in Ray's book [Farenheit 451] are getting perfect friends and relatives from their TV sets. And around the clock!
You can't fight progress. The best you can do is ignore it, until it finally takes your livelihood and self-respect away. General Electric itself was made to feel like a buggy whip factory for a time, as Bell Labs and others cornered patents on transistors and their uses, while GE was still shunting electrons this way and that with vacuum tubes.
Too big to fail, though, as I was not, GE recovered sufficiently to lay off thousands and poison the Hudson River with PCBs.
-Kurt Vonnegut, 1999
The only thing I can think of is
to find a song whose lyrics approximate the cyclone of your own thoughts because besides that the only ways I know how to deal with conflict are (1) compose a strongly worded email and (2) rearrange my thinking. I am so exhausted of typing out concise thoughts and moral compasses and tinkering around within myself to determine what exists, I am tired of alchemy and chemistry and isolating the genome, documenting the different species of butterfly in a felted display case. And the more I rearrange my thinking the more I see my brain sliding down the side of a ziggurat, thunk, thunk, diagonal thunk, leaving a slimy trail as it goes. I am climbing up to see the wise man with my walking stick, wiping my brow, and it is slinking away, defying me. I could dig out the lepidopterology manual and throw the least valuable wings at someone, like a weapon, or glue them to my shirt to see what happens. Does yoga even have a butterfly pose?
semi-unrelated
hi friends and readers, anonymous and known:
I have put some art up on the internet, stolen some pieces from this blog, cobbled together some photographs from various times in my life, and bought my own corner of the internet over at
www.okdunn.com
check back for updates, it's not much yet.
I have also (lost my mind) and started a(nother) blog for the gluten-free amongst us. Tell your friend(s) if you think they might like it, need it, or have anything to share re: peripheral dietary habits.
http://eatingnearlyeverything.blogspot.com
The only thing to be done, I suppose, when one is not spending money and not eating bread and trying to figure everything out in their (my) life, is to start new blogs, dozens of them, day after day and then chase around after them like flies in a pigpen. Except, pretty, and appetizing.
xo
I have put some art up on the internet, stolen some pieces from this blog, cobbled together some photographs from various times in my life, and bought my own corner of the internet over at
www.okdunn.com
check back for updates, it's not much yet.
I have also (lost my mind) and started a(nother) blog for the gluten-free amongst us. Tell your friend(s) if you think they might like it, need it, or have anything to share re: peripheral dietary habits.
http://eatingnearlyeverything.blogspot.com
The only thing to be done, I suppose, when one is not spending money and not eating bread and trying to figure everything out in their (my) life, is to start new blogs, dozens of them, day after day and then chase around after them like flies in a pigpen. Except, pretty, and appetizing.
xo
my favorite holiday
I don't know how to say it without sounding facetious but, though I enjoy the spelling of that word, I reject the behavior it implies in all aspects of my life. I am at home today, on the couch, observing the national holiday. There is no requirement for celebration, only a space of time to reflect and consider the use of one's life.
I was discussing today's holiday just now, with a friend. We are from the same part of the world, which is to say, the inner-city public schools of upstate New York. We gazed daily towards the front of a classroom, and there, between the American flag and the loudspeaker was a framed portrait of the man, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Who is he to me? The only word I know to use for my feeling is uncle, so familiar, familial. The stories told of him were stories held close, cherished, my fourth grade teacher was ironing a dress when it came onto the radio that he had been shot. This information weaves through me and ties together in new ways, as though I were present for any of it.
I guess that in terms of civil rights leaders it is easier for me to identify with Malcolm X, and not just because I have seen the Spike Lee film several times. I would be so angry, I would be furious and indignant and calculating, seething. I am all of these things in my own way, as a woman, as a witness to other people's pain. But in his transcendent way, the only way I know how to aspire to be, he had love. How, please tell me, is that possible. His round face,
tremulous voice, familiar, resonating, transmitting, still, to this day, messages of love. I can't get over it. I won't get over it and today I can revel in it.
I can't get over Marcus Garvey's hat, either. I guess the lessons are that love, seriousness, and a good hat can really change the world. Don't you dare call it facetious.
"So that all gay men forever could understand Pan-Africanism:"
-photo and quote courtesy JCB,
Re: MANIC
Sleepless nights because you're trying to decide whether you should become a certified fitness instructor or go to business school. Hell, just do both. And remember to register for the Pilates/Zumba class that starts at the dance studio this week.
Starting a funeral home/service seems like a good idea because people always die and because you're kind of morbid anyway, so it makes sense. Aforementioned business classes would help with that.
But what about starting a boutique/bookstore? That'd surely be more fun. Business classes also helpful in this arena. Put money on the playoff games. Figure out how to get money to put on playoff games. Capital is essential.
Sip decaf hazelnut coffee with Bailey's, because you need to quiet your mind.
Can of Amy's Alphabet Soup- approximately 120 calories
That's not too bad.
Favre sacked. How does he keep popping up?
"PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE IS ESCAPISM"
-Jenny Holzer
The list of requirements for the Indian Visa Office led me to believe I would be strip-searched upon arrival; no cell phones, no personal music players, nothing that lights up, tells you the time or beeps in any way, also absolutely no canvas bags or explosives. When I got there, up a flight of carpeted steps, everyone was in a good mood. The line was short, everyone had a large bag, and someone's cell phone rang loudly into the din of the informational documentary on Gandhi.
I imagine myself coming back from the trip burnished, though I have never tanned in my life. I imagine red, gold, and brown. I am able to create an imagination of the gift shop at the Abu Dhabi airport. It is not in any way related to the cave of treasures in Aladdin. I imagine the order in which I will pack my suitcase, how my things will look geometric laid next to each other in rows. The rest is surrender. The rest is just smiling at a stranger in a line, we're all in this together, I'm standing with nothing in my hands, just waiting, and listening.
The list of requirements for the Indian Visa Office led me to believe I would be strip-searched upon arrival; no cell phones, no personal music players, nothing that lights up, tells you the time or beeps in any way, also absolutely no canvas bags or explosives. When I got there, up a flight of carpeted steps, everyone was in a good mood. The line was short, everyone had a large bag, and someone's cell phone rang loudly into the din of the informational documentary on Gandhi.
I imagine myself coming back from the trip burnished, though I have never tanned in my life. I imagine red, gold, and brown. I am able to create an imagination of the gift shop at the Abu Dhabi airport. It is not in any way related to the cave of treasures in Aladdin. I imagine the order in which I will pack my suitcase, how my things will look geometric laid next to each other in rows. The rest is surrender. The rest is just smiling at a stranger in a line, we're all in this together, I'm standing with nothing in my hands, just waiting, and listening.
On Mania;
AND THE FINE LINE BETWEEN COFFEE INTAKE AND MENTAL ILLNESS:
As Amy Winehouse sings, "she is plagued with urgency." Oh baby bring it all to me. Bring it on, bring it on. Let's get it started... in here. Immediacy, the great addiction of our generation. I can still hear the grinding sound of dial-up internet in my head, maybe you can, too. Remember this song?
I want to take over the world, build an internet empire. I want to cook dinner every night and remember to pack my minty lip balm, I want meaningful work but don't you dare set any spreadsheet deadlines because I have seven blogs to write-right now. I want to read all those books on my list but slowly, but immediately. Crank up the Le Tigre and pour me another cuz it's Thursday, fuckers, and I got shit to do.
As Amy Winehouse sings, "she is plagued with urgency." Oh baby bring it all to me. Bring it on, bring it on. Let's get it started... in here. Immediacy, the great addiction of our generation. I can still hear the grinding sound of dial-up internet in my head, maybe you can, too. Remember this song?
I want to take over the world, build an internet empire. I want to cook dinner every night and remember to pack my minty lip balm, I want meaningful work but don't you dare set any spreadsheet deadlines because I have seven blogs to write-right now. I want to read all those books on my list but slowly, but immediately. Crank up the Le Tigre and pour me another cuz it's Thursday, fuckers, and I got shit to do.
"as it turns out that mos def concert is actually a muslim rally"
life can be pretty confusing sometimes.
Isn't it just
There will be no complaining today. It's just not allowed because I am watching a red balloon float through the sky, up, up, and around our sturdy buildings. Trailing and floating on the wind's whim, tickling the sides of these brown brick buildings. I am eating a low-fat yogurt with a plastic spoon and thinking about leather boots and how much I will pay for them. I am reading the news and feeling nothing and reading the news and feeling nothing and looking at the slide show and wham, OK, there it is, and I am remembering the girl who was rude to me at yoga last night and thinking about all the times I have brushed past someone without smiling and let's not forget that horrible things will happen no matter what we do so probably today is a good day to remember not to add complaining or frowning to this tragic pile.
On the delicate beauty of language,
and the intricate excitement of planning a trip, excitement which spreads like wildfire in bursts and gulps:
New Woodlands Hotel (P) LTD., The Name which is reputed all over the world for its quality standards and service at a reasonable cost is founded about 50 years back by the then founder & Chairman Mr.Krishna Rao who was famous for his gentleness & kindness which is a rare gesture in a business community but a pre-requisite for a hospitality industry.
New woodlands a pure Vegetarian hotel run by orthodox family. Hotel believes in quality standards which are not compromised for anything in so many years passed, though, due to modernization of the world community/society. still new woodlands which has taken few renovation work for the betterment of the customers, strives to keep its ancient Customs to make the hotel a real heaven to its customer who feel homely touch which is everlasting memory in all the guests mind. Most of our guest prefer this hotel for homely atmosphere which is away from the artificial acts of the other hotels. Here the staff are so real from their heart who wanted to serve the guest to their best efficiency. New woodlands is 3 star hotel and Govt. approved hotel. It is also a member of all the Hotel associations like, FHRAI and SIHRA and much more.
New Woodlands Hotel (P) LTD., The Name which is reputed all over the world for its quality standards and service at a reasonable cost is founded about 50 years back by the then founder & Chairman Mr.Krishna Rao who was famous for his gentleness & kindness which is a rare gesture in a business community but a pre-requisite for a hospitality industry.
New woodlands a pure Vegetarian hotel run by orthodox family. Hotel believes in quality standards which are not compromised for anything in so many years passed, though, due to modernization of the world community/society. still new woodlands which has taken few renovation work for the betterment of the customers, strives to keep its ancient Customs to make the hotel a real heaven to its customer who feel homely touch which is everlasting memory in all the guests mind. Most of our guest prefer this hotel for homely atmosphere which is away from the artificial acts of the other hotels. Here the staff are so real from their heart who wanted to serve the guest to their best efficiency. New woodlands is 3 star hotel and Govt. approved hotel. It is also a member of all the Hotel associations like, FHRAI and SIHRA and much more.
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