Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
sleeping in the tropics
Well that wasn’t the best night’s sleep i ever had but its morning and it’s time to wake up. It wasn’t as bad as that night i spent in a termite infested hut on Kho Phanghan in Thailand (what a noisy hungry bunch of critters THEY are) but last night was a little rough nonetheless. Problem was it got cold in my circus tent in the night. A little cooler than pants, sweater, one sarong and one towel could protect me from. I started actually dreaming about blankets that i had brought but forgot to use and finally ended up pulling the bottom sheet up and burrito-ing myself up in it to preserve warmth. That worked well enough to doze into the morning but it was a little survival-esque for my taste. Tonight will be better.
Goals for today: Not to have a crappy massage, find a better home i can move into for the duration of my stay, have breakfast, visit Balanced View community (this is the revolutionary new moment to moment meditation and mindful awareness teachings that my mom and i came down here for last year) and... if all goes well, GO FOR A SWIM!!!
I could hear the waves all through the night which always takes a bit of getting used to, I find, the first night back sleeping by the sea. After that though, it’s “butter” and i wouldn’t trade it in for anything in the world.
It’s only 8 o’clock but i think i’ll get busy and have breakfast and get goin so that when my neighbours vacate their digs, i am available to move right in.
Pictures being posted will have to wait, due to my phone cord being left in Rishikesh, but i promise to get them up as soon as possible. Mom, you can just use you imagination. The hut i slept in last night was just like the one we had at Horizon last year but with a pink and yellow circus tent feel inside and the bathroom is a little bit of a step up from the last one. Haha. You are remembering now....
Goals for today: Not to have a crappy massage, find a better home i can move into for the duration of my stay, have breakfast, visit Balanced View community (this is the revolutionary new moment to moment meditation and mindful awareness teachings that my mom and i came down here for last year) and... if all goes well, GO FOR A SWIM!!!
I could hear the waves all through the night which always takes a bit of getting used to, I find, the first night back sleeping by the sea. After that though, it’s “butter” and i wouldn’t trade it in for anything in the world.
It’s only 8 o’clock but i think i’ll get busy and have breakfast and get goin so that when my neighbours vacate their digs, i am available to move right in.
Pictures being posted will have to wait, due to my phone cord being left in Rishikesh, but i promise to get them up as soon as possible. Mom, you can just use you imagination. The hut i slept in last night was just like the one we had at Horizon last year but with a pink and yellow circus tent feel inside and the bathroom is a little bit of a step up from the last one. Haha. You are remembering now....
a word on circus tents and beach huts....
It’s early when i traipse off to bed. It’s early but I realize i have done all i that i need to do today therefore, my meagre obligations being met, i am free to retire unobstructed to my circus tent.
My grass beach hut is outfitted with a most appropriate pink and yellow circus tent inner lining that i see will very effectively protect me from random outer critters that love to drop down from the thatched roofing. It is not lost on me the suitability of such nomadic digs for a gypsy such as myself and i am both pleased and delighted to be sleeping within these grass and fabric walls to the sound of soft waves kissing the beach in the distance. I have chosen a hut that is a little away from the centre and very nicely located a little ways up a hill from a rocky shore. I think this spot will be much more quiet than the beach huts mom and i chose last year.
As i prepare to bunk down under my management-provided mosquito net, i am reminded that in Goa, only bottom sheets are usually supplied due to the climate. Any sort of upper covering is usually the sole responsibility of the guest, me, and i have forgotten to bring any sort of sheet. I sort through my bag and luckily i have brought with me a rather large soft sarong that will fake it as a top sheet, and if i have any tendency to feel cold i will simply wear an extra pair of pants and a sweater to bed. Admittedly it is a bit of a surreal treat to be able to watch the Big Bang Theory from under my mozzie net in Goa. I am also fairly content that i have two pillows, one to rest my head on and one to cuddle with. Goodnight and sweet dreams. See you in the morning.
My grass beach hut is outfitted with a most appropriate pink and yellow circus tent inner lining that i see will very effectively protect me from random outer critters that love to drop down from the thatched roofing. It is not lost on me the suitability of such nomadic digs for a gypsy such as myself and i am both pleased and delighted to be sleeping within these grass and fabric walls to the sound of soft waves kissing the beach in the distance. I have chosen a hut that is a little away from the centre and very nicely located a little ways up a hill from a rocky shore. I think this spot will be much more quiet than the beach huts mom and i chose last year.
As i prepare to bunk down under my management-provided mosquito net, i am reminded that in Goa, only bottom sheets are usually supplied due to the climate. Any sort of upper covering is usually the sole responsibility of the guest, me, and i have forgotten to bring any sort of sheet. I sort through my bag and luckily i have brought with me a rather large soft sarong that will fake it as a top sheet, and if i have any tendency to feel cold i will simply wear an extra pair of pants and a sweater to bed. Admittedly it is a bit of a surreal treat to be able to watch the Big Bang Theory from under my mozzie net in Goa. I am also fairly content that i have two pillows, one to rest my head on and one to cuddle with. Goodnight and sweet dreams. See you in the morning.
torture by massage...
Ok here’s something new: torture by massage. That was... I was going to say.... one of the top 5 WORST massages ever that I ever received but now... when i think of it... i can think of only one other massage in my life that compared to the terribleness of the one i just had.
Thinking I would reward myself with a nice relaxing massage upon my arrival to Arambol, after i have been kinda sick for so long and fighting this cold... but the whole time i was on the table, i was wishing that i wasn’t. “How can a massage be THAT bad?” you ask? Well, let me explain, it was not unlike the feeling when you rub suntan oil all over your body, briskly and only to the end of evenly distributing a slick of oil across your skin surface, except someone ELSE is doing it, unlovingly, followed by about ten minutes of “noogy” to your head. At the end she hung around while i got dressed and asked me for a tip. (after wiping the copious excess of oil from my body, it was like an Exxon oil spill in there. I felt like one of those poor seals or water fowl soiled by the muck). I gave her a tip. I told her softly that that was one of the worst massage i ever had in my life and i don’t really feel like giving a tip. Her English did not allow her to comprehend this, so I added to be clear: “it was terrible”. I didn’t want to be cruel and i wouldn’t have said anything at all but... she kept asking me throughout the process if it was ok, if it was good, etc. To which i just nodded and mumbled something inaudible. But when she asked for a tip, i couldn’t help myself. Oops! :D
Thinking I would reward myself with a nice relaxing massage upon my arrival to Arambol, after i have been kinda sick for so long and fighting this cold... but the whole time i was on the table, i was wishing that i wasn’t. “How can a massage be THAT bad?” you ask? Well, let me explain, it was not unlike the feeling when you rub suntan oil all over your body, briskly and only to the end of evenly distributing a slick of oil across your skin surface, except someone ELSE is doing it, unlovingly, followed by about ten minutes of “noogy” to your head. At the end she hung around while i got dressed and asked me for a tip. (after wiping the copious excess of oil from my body, it was like an Exxon oil spill in there. I felt like one of those poor seals or water fowl soiled by the muck). I gave her a tip. I told her softly that that was one of the worst massage i ever had in my life and i don’t really feel like giving a tip. Her English did not allow her to comprehend this, so I added to be clear: “it was terrible”. I didn’t want to be cruel and i wouldn’t have said anything at all but... she kept asking me throughout the process if it was ok, if it was good, etc. To which i just nodded and mumbled something inaudible. But when she asked for a tip, i couldn’t help myself. Oops! :D
Dinner and Indian soaps at the Oasis
A dog is a very unassuming dinner companion and mine is no exception. Quietly slinking in, sharing my leftovers silently from under the table, she looks up at me with deep, dark, appreciative eyes. Now she is napping contentedly with a belly full of my seafood sizzler. Mom, remember the seafood sizzler? My first meal in Arambol today. Calamari, prawns and some kind of fresh whitefish, all sizzled with vegetables and pommes frites nestled in a cabbage leaf atop a steaming sizzling hot plate. You can’t get around this dish on your own.... ever, so i am grateful for my unexpected canine companion, showing up perfectly on time to enjoy the leftovers. So graceful and polite, this dog has accepted delicate morsels fed from my hand more gently than my own dog at home who is VERY particular about what she puts in her mouth (except when it is dug up from the previous spring, right Eve?).
One would think that a stray Goan beach dog would be ravenous and rude, but my dinner date has exhibited exquisite table manners as she delicately and without touching me, takes her fish morsels from my hand. I am reminded of the immense beauty and grace of the natural world as i observe her. Mmmmm, now she is peacefully sleeping at my feet under the table. No one disturbs her. No one knows she is there but me. Mmmm. And so it is that we both enjoy the crashing of the waves on the rocks below us and the peace of no one bothering us.
Hmmm, wanna hear something funny? Nakul you will appreciate this. I just finished having dinner at this “family” restaurant. Very delicious. Very good energy. And i have moved inside to where there is a power outlet and hopefully free wi-fi so i can go online. Around me are wives and children and babies, the family of the men who run or own the restaurant, clearly. This is a good vibe. So here is the funny part: After much effort to get my power cord and adapter to work here, i find that... i am right in the middle of the EXACT same Indian soap opera that we play at our house every afternoon in Laxman Jhula that the women are so addicted to in my house in rishikesh. Ha ha ha. So i feel right at home :D big smiles.
:D
Mmmm, as i sit here, waiting for them to figure out how to get the internet working, sitting amongst mothers and children and feeling quite at home with that, i reflect. I realize that i have learned many things. I have learned how to make quite a “proper” cup of Indian chai, i have learned how to serve dinner in quite a proper and appropriate way, I have learned many things, in my four months so far.
And its funny, because i ALMOST know what’s happenin on this Indian soap opera i have been watching for so long. I feel like i know the characters. How bizarre.
WEll, at least it is helping the time to pass quickly while i wait for them to fix the internet. I think i might be becoming addicted too ;)
One would think that a stray Goan beach dog would be ravenous and rude, but my dinner date has exhibited exquisite table manners as she delicately and without touching me, takes her fish morsels from my hand. I am reminded of the immense beauty and grace of the natural world as i observe her. Mmmmm, now she is peacefully sleeping at my feet under the table. No one disturbs her. No one knows she is there but me. Mmmm. And so it is that we both enjoy the crashing of the waves on the rocks below us and the peace of no one bothering us.
Hmmm, wanna hear something funny? Nakul you will appreciate this. I just finished having dinner at this “family” restaurant. Very delicious. Very good energy. And i have moved inside to where there is a power outlet and hopefully free wi-fi so i can go online. Around me are wives and children and babies, the family of the men who run or own the restaurant, clearly. This is a good vibe. So here is the funny part: After much effort to get my power cord and adapter to work here, i find that... i am right in the middle of the EXACT same Indian soap opera that we play at our house every afternoon in Laxman Jhula that the women are so addicted to in my house in rishikesh. Ha ha ha. So i feel right at home :D big smiles.
:D
Mmmm, as i sit here, waiting for them to figure out how to get the internet working, sitting amongst mothers and children and feeling quite at home with that, i reflect. I realize that i have learned many things. I have learned how to make quite a “proper” cup of Indian chai, i have learned how to serve dinner in quite a proper and appropriate way, I have learned many things, in my four months so far.
And its funny, because i ALMOST know what’s happenin on this Indian soap opera i have been watching for so long. I feel like i know the characters. How bizarre.
WEll, at least it is helping the time to pass quickly while i wait for them to fix the internet. I think i might be becoming addicted too ;)
establishing in arambol....
Oh Arambol, I remember you. Bikinis, beer, Russians, seafood salads, and chill out music.
2 hours drive from Vasco and I am in Arambol again, the northernmost beach community in the state of Goa. In the cab ride here my driver had the radio tuned to what must be the only English station in the state, playing an eclectic mix of hits from every decade since the 50’s and country music.
I had a place to stay in mind. It’s a place i checked out last time but never stayed at. The ocean view rooms they have are full for tonight but i accepted a grass hut in behind. It is up high, I can see the water and waves through the trees from my balcony where i sit right now typing. My neighbours are... you guessed it, Russian. I LIKE the Russians. They are sort of like on the edge of being “westerners”. I haven’t checked my map lately but i do believe that parts of Russia lay further East than India. So they are neither Westerners nor Easterners in a sense, or rather... they are both. Their country is just so darn LARGE. I like their carefree nature when they are on vacation. Truly enjoying themselves to the fullest in this land where anything goes.
I took the first place i looked at, not in the mood to shlupp around with my backpack in the hot sun right now. I will take a stroll later and inquire at a few places to see if there are any better places, views, deals, as if it’s not enough that my ears are only taking in three sounds: the waves, the wind in the palms and the sound of Russian. Oh Arambol.
The beach at Arambol is great. You can bypass all the streets and shops and hubbub to get anywhere by taking the beach as your walking path and then cutting up between the restaurants when you are near your destination. I love this.
2 hours drive from Vasco and I am in Arambol again, the northernmost beach community in the state of Goa. In the cab ride here my driver had the radio tuned to what must be the only English station in the state, playing an eclectic mix of hits from every decade since the 50’s and country music.
I had a place to stay in mind. It’s a place i checked out last time but never stayed at. The ocean view rooms they have are full for tonight but i accepted a grass hut in behind. It is up high, I can see the water and waves through the trees from my balcony where i sit right now typing. My neighbours are... you guessed it, Russian. I LIKE the Russians. They are sort of like on the edge of being “westerners”. I haven’t checked my map lately but i do believe that parts of Russia lay further East than India. So they are neither Westerners nor Easterners in a sense, or rather... they are both. Their country is just so darn LARGE. I like their carefree nature when they are on vacation. Truly enjoying themselves to the fullest in this land where anything goes.
I took the first place i looked at, not in the mood to shlupp around with my backpack in the hot sun right now. I will take a stroll later and inquire at a few places to see if there are any better places, views, deals, as if it’s not enough that my ears are only taking in three sounds: the waves, the wind in the palms and the sound of Russian. Oh Arambol.
The beach at Arambol is great. You can bypass all the streets and shops and hubbub to get anywhere by taking the beach as your walking path and then cutting up between the restaurants when you are near your destination. I love this.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Vasco de Gama
Went for a stroll to stretch the ol’ legs. Not much to see in Vasco de Gama on a Sunday except cute Russian tourists in leg bearing short shorts. Many shops are closed in what looks like the banking district of town. I myself prefer a more conservative mode of dress (baring arms and legs is too provocative for me), even if it IS Goa, the Rio de Janeiro of India. I try to blend in. I’m friendly but invisible and innocuous. Vasco de Gama is named for its Portuguese influence. The Portuguese colonized Goa and you can see it everywhere in the architecture. After my stroll I intend to have lunch and maybe take a nap by the pool. Hee hee. Insert glee here.
As i watch the relatively sleepy traffic here in Goa I can’t help but wonder... perhaps have you been in India too long if the driving in India begins to make sense to you? Upon returning home to Canada last time I remember driving in my car, watching other drivers and thnking to myself “why don’t they just pass here, there is so much room” in situations where one would never ever pass in Canada.
Though there is a pool at my hotel (this is Goa after all), I wouldn’t consider getting in it. I am content to sit on its sidelines, enjoy its luscious blue appearance and the breeze rattling the palms. So far the day has been very relaxing. I feel very blessed to live such a charmed life.
CROWS. Every morning outside our room in Rishikesh, usually before the morning winds have died down, we are visited by a persistent crow who, thinking his reflection in the glass is a rival crow, proceeds to scrape and peck and generally make a very noisy nuisance of himself every morning. We used to chase him off. Now we just let him wear himself out and lose interest on his on. Recently he brought along a buddy, so then we had TWO crows at two separate windows persistently bashing themselves into their own reflections. Nature is so weird sometimes.
As i watch the relatively sleepy traffic here in Goa I can’t help but wonder... perhaps have you been in India too long if the driving in India begins to make sense to you? Upon returning home to Canada last time I remember driving in my car, watching other drivers and thnking to myself “why don’t they just pass here, there is so much room” in situations where one would never ever pass in Canada.
Though there is a pool at my hotel (this is Goa after all), I wouldn’t consider getting in it. I am content to sit on its sidelines, enjoy its luscious blue appearance and the breeze rattling the palms. So far the day has been very relaxing. I feel very blessed to live such a charmed life.
CROWS. Every morning outside our room in Rishikesh, usually before the morning winds have died down, we are visited by a persistent crow who, thinking his reflection in the glass is a rival crow, proceeds to scrape and peck and generally make a very noisy nuisance of himself every morning. We used to chase him off. Now we just let him wear himself out and lose interest on his on. Recently he brought along a buddy, so then we had TWO crows at two separate windows persistently bashing themselves into their own reflections. Nature is so weird sometimes.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
welcome to Goa
Goa IS good.
Ah to wake up to no sneezing, coughing, running nose and an English newspaper under my door. Granted, the train ran right through the backyard of my hotel last night and i had to share my room with a giant gecko, but i am in Goa.
After a very good talk with Nakul where he was so supportive and encouraging I woke up two days ago with the knowing that i would go to Goa. After a few attempts (thwarted by a couple power cuts) i booked myself some airline tickets online to get down here. The next morning me, Nakul, little Gunnu jumped in a taxi and drove me out to Jolly Grant airport at Dehradun, which, incidentally, is a stupendously convenient airport to Rishikesh, i didn't realize. I think i once paid more to have a car drive me from delhi to rishikesh than it costs for a one way ticket from Jolly Grant to delhi and the airport is only 30 minutes drive from our house. The building is huge and modern and all glass, quite impressive. Flights only run to Delhi and our particular aircraft couldn't have been more than an 80 passenger puddle jumper. Our passenger list was an ecclectic one, flying out of such a quiet corner of India. Our motley crew included one yogi ascetic whose greying dreads were piled high upon his head so that his hairdo almost touched the ceiling of the aircraft while seated. Dressed in a brilliant saffron robe and perched atop traditional wooden platform shoes resembling the Japanese version except 4 inches high, he made quite an entrance as he strolled down the runway, wheeling his carry on. Also on the plane was myself, several business looking business men, one very butchy looking lesbian (is that politically incorrect? surely it is, but she was), and one interesting couple comprised of one sunglassed blonde woman and her english speaking but muslim looking male counterpart. They looked married. I always forget to look for rings. I think they were both foreigners because both spoke unaccented English to my ear. Perhaps they were in India visiting his family? Or perhaps he does business here and she came along for the ride. They looked very modern and rather sophisticated. These kinds of people always intrigue me because I am also half of one such peculiar combination.
Flights were uneventful, thank god. Dehradun to Delhi, Delhi to Goa. Spent a few hours in Delhi airport terminal 1D browsing around, people watching, eating foods i haven't laid eyes on in weeks. it was fun. I notice that i am getting so blase about travelling these days that flying from Northern India to Southern India feels like going to the corner store in your pajamas for milk. Don't know if thats a good thing or not, it just is.
on the drive to Dehradun airport we passed many signs in the elephant corridor with pictures of elephants overturning cars warning: beware of wild elephants. wow. its both cool and terrifying at the same time. it happens.
So now i am staying at a hotel called the Seven Seas close to the airport in Goa. Its like an indian style resort hotel. Similar to the place I stayed when i was in Chennai several years back. I like the upper to middle scale hotels geared towards indian guests, rather than high end hotels or mid to high end hotels geared towards foreigners. Its reasonably priced, clean, has room service and all the amenities you need but doesn't gouge the pocket book, plus they have all the good indian food on the menu and breakfast buffet. So i am just resting up and will make the trip to arambol tomorrow.
Ah to wake up to no sneezing, coughing, running nose and an English newspaper under my door. Granted, the train ran right through the backyard of my hotel last night and i had to share my room with a giant gecko, but i am in Goa.
After a very good talk with Nakul where he was so supportive and encouraging I woke up two days ago with the knowing that i would go to Goa. After a few attempts (thwarted by a couple power cuts) i booked myself some airline tickets online to get down here. The next morning me, Nakul, little Gunnu jumped in a taxi and drove me out to Jolly Grant airport at Dehradun, which, incidentally, is a stupendously convenient airport to Rishikesh, i didn't realize. I think i once paid more to have a car drive me from delhi to rishikesh than it costs for a one way ticket from Jolly Grant to delhi and the airport is only 30 minutes drive from our house. The building is huge and modern and all glass, quite impressive. Flights only run to Delhi and our particular aircraft couldn't have been more than an 80 passenger puddle jumper. Our passenger list was an ecclectic one, flying out of such a quiet corner of India. Our motley crew included one yogi ascetic whose greying dreads were piled high upon his head so that his hairdo almost touched the ceiling of the aircraft while seated. Dressed in a brilliant saffron robe and perched atop traditional wooden platform shoes resembling the Japanese version except 4 inches high, he made quite an entrance as he strolled down the runway, wheeling his carry on. Also on the plane was myself, several business looking business men, one very butchy looking lesbian (is that politically incorrect? surely it is, but she was), and one interesting couple comprised of one sunglassed blonde woman and her english speaking but muslim looking male counterpart. They looked married. I always forget to look for rings. I think they were both foreigners because both spoke unaccented English to my ear. Perhaps they were in India visiting his family? Or perhaps he does business here and she came along for the ride. They looked very modern and rather sophisticated. These kinds of people always intrigue me because I am also half of one such peculiar combination.
Flights were uneventful, thank god. Dehradun to Delhi, Delhi to Goa. Spent a few hours in Delhi airport terminal 1D browsing around, people watching, eating foods i haven't laid eyes on in weeks. it was fun. I notice that i am getting so blase about travelling these days that flying from Northern India to Southern India feels like going to the corner store in your pajamas for milk. Don't know if thats a good thing or not, it just is.
on the drive to Dehradun airport we passed many signs in the elephant corridor with pictures of elephants overturning cars warning: beware of wild elephants. wow. its both cool and terrifying at the same time. it happens.
So now i am staying at a hotel called the Seven Seas close to the airport in Goa. Its like an indian style resort hotel. Similar to the place I stayed when i was in Chennai several years back. I like the upper to middle scale hotels geared towards indian guests, rather than high end hotels or mid to high end hotels geared towards foreigners. Its reasonably priced, clean, has room service and all the amenities you need but doesn't gouge the pocket book, plus they have all the good indian food on the menu and breakfast buffet. So i am just resting up and will make the trip to arambol tomorrow.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Aloo Ghobi ki Subji (Potato cauliflower mixed vegetable) - with Ritu
All measurements are eyeball guesses
Finished product is the dryer North Indian version of this dish
I highly recommend reading through this recipe first and doing all your chopping and paste making ahead of time so it is all ready and available on hand.
Heat ¼c oil in wok (we use refined soybean oil here which seems to stand up to heat quite well, able to use it for deep frying. In Canada I have used grapeseed oil though its smoke point is much lower so you have to be careful)
Cut 3 medium potatos into medium sized chunks (“not bit and not small”) and fry in the oil until the outside is a nice deep golden brown. Remove and set aside
Do the same with the ghobi (cauliflower) cut into medium sized pieces. Fry until browned. Set aside
To the remaining oil add 1Tbsp cumin seeds (jeera) and about half an onion diced and half an onion pureed in the food processor. Heat is about at medium high so the onion and cumin can brown nicely. (about 10 mins)
When that is browned nicely, add about 2Tbsp of paste made from fresh green chilis (use fresh Serrano if you cannot find the small, skinnier hotter version we use in india) , garlic, and ginger (grated) and cook on medium for about 10 mins.
Then add about 1Tbsp turmeric
1.5Tbsp coriander powder
1-2 pinches of powdered red chilli for colour
And about 2Tbsp of water or more,
1tsp salt
It will be a thick paste.
Add ½ a tomato diced
Cook until it changes colour and the tomatos are soft. Mash them up.
Then add 2Tbsp of tomato paste (half a tomato blended up)
Cook 5 mins
Add back in the cooked potatos and a little water
Add the ghobi
Fry with the lid on for 10-15 minutes so the ghobi and potatos absorb the flavour, adding water if it becomes too dry.
Simmer and let flavours blend 15 mins or so
Add 1tsp garam massala and cook a little more
Add a sprinkle of fresh cilantro to finish and serve.
Finished product is the dryer North Indian version of this dish
I highly recommend reading through this recipe first and doing all your chopping and paste making ahead of time so it is all ready and available on hand.
Heat ¼c oil in wok (we use refined soybean oil here which seems to stand up to heat quite well, able to use it for deep frying. In Canada I have used grapeseed oil though its smoke point is much lower so you have to be careful)
Cut 3 medium potatos into medium sized chunks (“not bit and not small”) and fry in the oil until the outside is a nice deep golden brown. Remove and set aside
Do the same with the ghobi (cauliflower) cut into medium sized pieces. Fry until browned. Set aside
To the remaining oil add 1Tbsp cumin seeds (jeera) and about half an onion diced and half an onion pureed in the food processor. Heat is about at medium high so the onion and cumin can brown nicely. (about 10 mins)
When that is browned nicely, add about 2Tbsp of paste made from fresh green chilis (use fresh Serrano if you cannot find the small, skinnier hotter version we use in india) , garlic, and ginger (grated) and cook on medium for about 10 mins.
Then add about 1Tbsp turmeric
1.5Tbsp coriander powder
1-2 pinches of powdered red chilli for colour
And about 2Tbsp of water or more,
1tsp salt
It will be a thick paste.
Add ½ a tomato diced
Cook until it changes colour and the tomatos are soft. Mash them up.
Then add 2Tbsp of tomato paste (half a tomato blended up)
Cook 5 mins
Add back in the cooked potatos and a little water
Add the ghobi
Fry with the lid on for 10-15 minutes so the ghobi and potatos absorb the flavour, adding water if it becomes too dry.
Simmer and let flavours blend 15 mins or so
Add 1tsp garam massala and cook a little more
Add a sprinkle of fresh cilantro to finish and serve.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
randoms
new pictures are coming ... we just need to recharge our internet. I'm at an internet cafe now.
I would say i am finally acclimatizing. Yes, i would say that.
Had a cappucino today. Not a PROPER cappucino, i think it was a nescafe, but it was coffee flavoured, none the less.
I have come to the conclusion that i have pretty much had a chronic cold since i arrived. I am not sure if it is allergies, just allergies, or a combination of a cold and allergies, or just a cold, but its driving me crazy. I haven't breathed straight in 3 weeks. I'm so OVER it already.
Yesterday in an attempt to prevent myself from tripping down the stairs i jammed my middle finger, bent the nail back, boy is that finger sore today.
Bought some new pillows yesterday. Kinda fun. and some bright sunny turquiose blue pillow covers. Fun. Fun.
Ya, you can see i have nothing pertinent to say so i will sign off. much love to all!
I would say i am finally acclimatizing. Yes, i would say that.
Had a cappucino today. Not a PROPER cappucino, i think it was a nescafe, but it was coffee flavoured, none the less.
I have come to the conclusion that i have pretty much had a chronic cold since i arrived. I am not sure if it is allergies, just allergies, or a combination of a cold and allergies, or just a cold, but its driving me crazy. I haven't breathed straight in 3 weeks. I'm so OVER it already.
Yesterday in an attempt to prevent myself from tripping down the stairs i jammed my middle finger, bent the nail back, boy is that finger sore today.
Bought some new pillows yesterday. Kinda fun. and some bright sunny turquiose blue pillow covers. Fun. Fun.
Ya, you can see i have nothing pertinent to say so i will sign off. much love to all!
ashram whites and accommodating guests
Font: Microsoft Himalaya
Two discoveries: my ashram “whites” are no match for an Indian kitchen. In a flash they will be splattered with palak (spinach) paste or smeared with a rich coloured masala (curry paste) so look out! Ashram whites temporarily folded and stored, traded in for vibrant reds and oranges and greens for the time being.
My teacher is not even AT the ashram right now, which is about a four minute walk up the hill from here. He is in Canada. So i practice my yoga on the roof or in our room once the sun has come out and warmed the air enough to make it enjoyable. The roof which is our “patio” out the front door of our room looks out over the Ganga, as you can see from the pictures i posted. Laxman Jhula, the neighbourhood in Rishikesh where we live is a hot spot for yoga and meditation.
I am not sure I would even BE getting up at 5am to go to the ashram for 6am yoga class even if my teacher WAS here. But it is good that he isn’t, because now i don’t even have to think about it. It amazes me that there was a time when I awoke at 3 or 4 every morning, WITHOUT an alarm clock, BOUNDING out of bed to go through several cleansing kriyas, oil my body, shower, change, write and meditated before class started at 6am. It seems I’ve traded that in for lounging in bed until around 8 or 9 then clicking on my computer or the hot water and then stumbling downstairs for chai and a late breakfast around 10. Doing some washing up and then MAYBE stumbling back upstairs for a little mid- morning yoga before lunch.
Oh, hmm, ok, the second discovery of today is this: There is one very interesting and beautiful feature of the typical Indian household (based on my experience) and I apologize but the sociologist in me just can’t help but noticing....
In an Indian household, this is how it works: if there is a visitor or a newcomer to the family, or a guest, be it for one hour or one year, EVERYTHING will be offered to and shared with that guest that the family is able to provide, even if it means that the other members of the family have to go without or with less or have to bear some small discomfort as a result. For example: bedding. As i have said, we are a family of 8, including me. In our room we have exactly 2 single mattresses and 3 blankets. (I, admittedly, have been sleeping on one of the blankets double folded up underneath me for extra comfort). A couple days ago, a friend of Nakul’s brother came to visit, Raoul, from Delhi. This is the lovely friend who brought my bag with him when he came. Bless his soul. So Nakul and I had to give up one of our blankets for Raoul to use. Now, Raoul is sleeping on a double bed right now, made up of two foamies, if one more guest were to arrive, Raoul would then shift to sleep on one of the foamies, giving the other up to the new arrival, and a blanket would be procured from SOMEWHERE for the newcomer, from a friend of neighbour, or more likely from Nakul’s cousin’s family who all live next door to us (that is who came with us on the picnic yesterday) or one dug out of storage perhaps. But not, under ANY circumstances, would someone wanting to stay here be told we don’t have enough room, or blankets, or bedding, as we so often do in the west, especially if we didn’t care much for that relative or person wanting to stay with us, we would use some excuse, like we don’t have room. Never in India i think, or rarely.
Another example: food. I have argued and argued with Nakul to let me give SOME money for the beautiful food that i am eating every day and the gorgeous room they are letting me stay in, but no, absolutely not, no way. So, say if the family has an extra mouth or two, to accommodate the little extra cost of that extra food, we might cook a little less fancy food. What i mean is...EVERYONE would eat a little less fancy and share what we have, to accommodate however many people came. So this is just what i am learning and discovery subtly, over time. Because I don’t yet totally know WHICH are the luxury food items and which are the staples. Well, I DO know what are the staples. Rice and dahl are the staples. Chapati and vegetables are the next level up (which we always have lots of). Then after that i don’t know. I know that paneer, Indian cheese, is a bit of a special treat that we only have once in a while or if we have company. Chicken, also, on special occasions, like when it is someone’s birthday, they can request a special meal be made of what THEY like. Things like that. But we have all sorts of luxuries, cookies with our chai, Indian pickles, kheer (indian rice pudding) and so on. So, i guess what i am saying is that...no one is ever turned away or looked at as an imposition or a drain on the resources of the household. Everything, whatever is had, is shared. Even if it means that the level of what the existing members are getting lowers after the arrival of the guest. Guest is king.
Two discoveries: my ashram “whites” are no match for an Indian kitchen. In a flash they will be splattered with palak (spinach) paste or smeared with a rich coloured masala (curry paste) so look out! Ashram whites temporarily folded and stored, traded in for vibrant reds and oranges and greens for the time being.
My teacher is not even AT the ashram right now, which is about a four minute walk up the hill from here. He is in Canada. So i practice my yoga on the roof or in our room once the sun has come out and warmed the air enough to make it enjoyable. The roof which is our “patio” out the front door of our room looks out over the Ganga, as you can see from the pictures i posted. Laxman Jhula, the neighbourhood in Rishikesh where we live is a hot spot for yoga and meditation.
I am not sure I would even BE getting up at 5am to go to the ashram for 6am yoga class even if my teacher WAS here. But it is good that he isn’t, because now i don’t even have to think about it. It amazes me that there was a time when I awoke at 3 or 4 every morning, WITHOUT an alarm clock, BOUNDING out of bed to go through several cleansing kriyas, oil my body, shower, change, write and meditated before class started at 6am. It seems I’ve traded that in for lounging in bed until around 8 or 9 then clicking on my computer or the hot water and then stumbling downstairs for chai and a late breakfast around 10. Doing some washing up and then MAYBE stumbling back upstairs for a little mid- morning yoga before lunch.
Oh, hmm, ok, the second discovery of today is this: There is one very interesting and beautiful feature of the typical Indian household (based on my experience) and I apologize but the sociologist in me just can’t help but noticing....
In an Indian household, this is how it works: if there is a visitor or a newcomer to the family, or a guest, be it for one hour or one year, EVERYTHING will be offered to and shared with that guest that the family is able to provide, even if it means that the other members of the family have to go without or with less or have to bear some small discomfort as a result. For example: bedding. As i have said, we are a family of 8, including me. In our room we have exactly 2 single mattresses and 3 blankets. (I, admittedly, have been sleeping on one of the blankets double folded up underneath me for extra comfort). A couple days ago, a friend of Nakul’s brother came to visit, Raoul, from Delhi. This is the lovely friend who brought my bag with him when he came. Bless his soul. So Nakul and I had to give up one of our blankets for Raoul to use. Now, Raoul is sleeping on a double bed right now, made up of two foamies, if one more guest were to arrive, Raoul would then shift to sleep on one of the foamies, giving the other up to the new arrival, and a blanket would be procured from SOMEWHERE for the newcomer, from a friend of neighbour, or more likely from Nakul’s cousin’s family who all live next door to us (that is who came with us on the picnic yesterday) or one dug out of storage perhaps. But not, under ANY circumstances, would someone wanting to stay here be told we don’t have enough room, or blankets, or bedding, as we so often do in the west, especially if we didn’t care much for that relative or person wanting to stay with us, we would use some excuse, like we don’t have room. Never in India i think, or rarely.
Another example: food. I have argued and argued with Nakul to let me give SOME money for the beautiful food that i am eating every day and the gorgeous room they are letting me stay in, but no, absolutely not, no way. So, say if the family has an extra mouth or two, to accommodate the little extra cost of that extra food, we might cook a little less fancy food. What i mean is...EVERYONE would eat a little less fancy and share what we have, to accommodate however many people came. So this is just what i am learning and discovery subtly, over time. Because I don’t yet totally know WHICH are the luxury food items and which are the staples. Well, I DO know what are the staples. Rice and dahl are the staples. Chapati and vegetables are the next level up (which we always have lots of). Then after that i don’t know. I know that paneer, Indian cheese, is a bit of a special treat that we only have once in a while or if we have company. Chicken, also, on special occasions, like when it is someone’s birthday, they can request a special meal be made of what THEY like. Things like that. But we have all sorts of luxuries, cookies with our chai, Indian pickles, kheer (indian rice pudding) and so on. So, i guess what i am saying is that...no one is ever turned away or looked at as an imposition or a drain on the resources of the household. Everything, whatever is had, is shared. Even if it means that the level of what the existing members are getting lowers after the arrival of the guest. Guest is king.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
picnicking by the Ganga
Finally snuck away to come upstairs and type up a note. Just got hooked up and online and all systems go and Manu, Nakul's little niece came up with her little bag of presents i gave her this morning and wanted to file my nails. So i just had to take a little break and let her file mine, and then file hers for her.
OH! I guess i didn't say yet.... my bag arrived on my doorsteps a day and a half ago so now i have shoes and books and clothes and a zillion other things i had completely forgotten. It wasn't a big bag but it sure was stuffed to busting. So last night i was finally able to give out some of the small things i had brought for everyone. Manu was in bed when we did this so this morning early we get a knock on her door from her and so I went downstairs and gave her her gifts. She was so tickled. She is six. A kinder egg, sparkly nail polish and a sparkly new glass nail file. So ya, she came up to have a little manicure session just a second ago. Fun.
So, yesterday we went on a picnic with 15 people, including us, close family and friends, to a beach 25kms from here where there is a cave called Vasisth cave, named after the yogi ascetic who live there and practiced sadhana for many years solitarily. I had been to the cave before, and even written about it here, i believe, on my first trip to India. The cave has incredible vibrations. One can sit in meditation effortlessly in there and time stands still. Anyhow, we were 12 people, 3 kids, 6 bikes/scooters and several bags of foodstuffs to prepare rice, vegetables, mutter paneer papad and pakoras riverside on three fires. What a fabulous day! We have pictures. I will post as soon as possible. We came home around 4, I took a quick cat nap, then chai, then Nakul went to the shop with his friend who was visiting for the day and I went up to my room and turned on Bjork’s debut album and danced hard to get my energy up. Good one.
OH! I guess i didn't say yet.... my bag arrived on my doorsteps a day and a half ago so now i have shoes and books and clothes and a zillion other things i had completely forgotten. It wasn't a big bag but it sure was stuffed to busting. So last night i was finally able to give out some of the small things i had brought for everyone. Manu was in bed when we did this so this morning early we get a knock on her door from her and so I went downstairs and gave her her gifts. She was so tickled. She is six. A kinder egg, sparkly nail polish and a sparkly new glass nail file. So ya, she came up to have a little manicure session just a second ago. Fun.
So, yesterday we went on a picnic with 15 people, including us, close family and friends, to a beach 25kms from here where there is a cave called Vasisth cave, named after the yogi ascetic who live there and practiced sadhana for many years solitarily. I had been to the cave before, and even written about it here, i believe, on my first trip to India. The cave has incredible vibrations. One can sit in meditation effortlessly in there and time stands still. Anyhow, we were 12 people, 3 kids, 6 bikes/scooters and several bags of foodstuffs to prepare rice, vegetables, mutter paneer papad and pakoras riverside on three fires. What a fabulous day! We have pictures. I will post as soon as possible. We came home around 4, I took a quick cat nap, then chai, then Nakul went to the shop with his friend who was visiting for the day and I went up to my room and turned on Bjork’s debut album and danced hard to get my energy up. Good one.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
3 observations, i hope you don't mind
Tonight while i was doing the washing up after dinner we had a power cut. We get these mostly during the daylight hours and occasionally in the evening. I love them. They are cool for several reasons. One: they totally always interrupt whatever you are doing instantly. Doesn’t matter if you are watching tv, listening to music, eating your dinner, cooking dinner or washing up, you can’t see. So everything is stopped. Don’t ask me WHY i like this, i just do. Two: I love the silence and stillness of no power, no buzz, no electromagnetic current coursing through your body. Three: i love to do things by candlelight and four: when you are in the kitchen and the power goes out, you have to do nothing but stand there in the pitch dark for a moment and someone always comes to rescue you from the darkness with the torch (or flashlight for you north Americans, hee hee) so that you can find candles. I love that feeling, of just standing there in the peaceful darkness, it’s a kind of a thrill. Of course that person who is nearest to the torch when the power goes out KNOWS that there are people in the kitchen in total darkness who need your assistance asap and when you are in the kitchen you know that person knows and is going to assist you in a very short moment. (Thank you Gunnu! My little chess buddy). There is a beautiful simplicity and teamwork to the whole scenario. Then, sometimes if the power is out for a longer period, we all sit together in one room and talk by candlelight. No tv, no electricity, nothing to disturb the peace, just human voices. It’s divine. One time i remember the power went out while we were eating jalebis which is a sweet syrupy curly deep fried delight and we just lit some candles and kept on eating jalebis. So fun. And then the power comes back and electric life resumes after a brief interlude. Nakul says he hates power cuts, but i love them.
As i stay here i see how Indian homemaking is an art and requires a certain talent to perform well. It is another reason why i understand the wisdom of arranged marriages. Running a household here in India requires a special set of skills and knowledge that can only be learned by living here for an extended period of time. I would say that for me to successfully run a middle class household here it would take at LEAST 5 years of living in one and being the assistant before I would feel confident taking over the task. To run only the kitchen perhaps I could be qualified in just 2 years. There are so many tricks and ins and outs, ways to make things more efficient and ways to cut corners, ways to get the most bang for your buck things that are done and things that are just not done, for a multitude of reasons that are not always at first so obvious. There are a million things that are not done the same way we would do them in North America and things that must be done that never even come up in an American household.
A successful household must be run by a person who is both shrewd and kind at the same time. Frugal yet generous, hospitable yet... well, you get my drift.
One of the considerations of parents and matchmakers when making a match is that the couple come from similar financial backgrounds and social status, in order to avoid complications and differences in expectations in living styles. For example: a bride from a family that is quite poor is accustomed and used to making do with not very much. Life is still happy and satisfying, it is just lived with great respect for the use of things. If she were married to a husband who was very rich and came from a very high status family with lots of money and servants, she would not be familiar with the rules of that echelon of society or how to run a household with servants if she never had them in her own household growing up, just as an example. I am sure there are things about a rich household that are fundamentally different from how things are run in a lower class household. The thing is that... to live in India is to live by your wits, regardless of your income. Everyone grows up learning from those around them and then having and using this precise knowledge to live their life more smoothly, building on those who have come before them. Unlike in our culture where it seems everyone is constantly re-inventing the wheel, learning everything from themselves. I know i always had to learn my lessons the hard way, hardly listening to the wisdom of those who came before me.
In India everyone has learned to succeed and thrive by being sharp and en pointe. It is a fine tuned machine that everyone learns how to run when they grow up here. Everyone knows how the machine works. So one must be very savvy in their daily life and not an idiot in their dealings. If a bride from a rich family were to marry a poor man, she might grow discontent with her husband’s inability to earn and provide for her the lifestyle to which she was accustomed to before her marriage.
Either scenario can be a great cause of disharmony for both the couple and their family. But when both in the couple are evenly matched and have similar lifestyles and living expectations, there is a greater chance of matrimonial harmony therefore creating a more stable home for children to grow up in. (We are all well aware of the challenges that a broken home can bring to the children of such a situation).
We see this potential conflict in love matches where two people fall in love and one of them is a spendy Wendy, while the other is more frugally minded. Arguments about money are one of the number one causes of divorce i hear.
But back to the skills it takes to run an Indian household. We have this giant stone. Well its two stones really, one large, one small and they serve the purpose of grinding things up into a paste for when the power is out and we can’t use the food processor or for when you want that special hand-ground taste to your masala. These stones, one big flat one and one smaller hand held one have small divets in them that the spices and chilis and stuff can get caught in so that you can crush them easily when you rub the two stones against eachother. Well today I saw a man come to the gate who re-makes these little divets or indents. Apparently the divets on the stones get worn smooth over time with use and need to be re-established, so it is this man’s job to go door to door and with an iron tool, bang in the divets again, for a small fee. How enterprising. Actually, so many things come door to door for the housewives, so they never even have to leave home if they don’t want to. Everything comes to you, every service, every product. Well, i’m sure not EVERY product, but many. One note about this topic: I hope i haven’t offended anyone, Indian, female or otherwise with my writing. It is just simple observation from my point of view, that’s all. It might be fallible or completely inaccurate, it is only my point of view after all.
My final note this evening is about our friend Gopal.
Nakul has a friend, his name is Gopal and he is a yogi. That means he is very much into yoga and meditation and sometimes teaches. Gopal and Nakul have been friends since their school days and I always enjoy a good gab with the two of them. We get into the most interesting discussions about life, god, culture, ... relationships. We discuss everything. And both Gopal and Nakul ask real thoughtful questions and then we discuss. It is probably the most intellectual, spiritual and fun conversations i have ever had in my life. Besides being very wise, Gopal is also very supportive of mine and Nakul’s relationship. So tonight we were at Gopal’s shop sitting and talking and getting very good relationship advice from him. He is like our marriage counsellor and he is really very helpful. He has some very wise opinions and thoughts. Thanks Gopal. That was a lovely little chat we had today.
As i stay here i see how Indian homemaking is an art and requires a certain talent to perform well. It is another reason why i understand the wisdom of arranged marriages. Running a household here in India requires a special set of skills and knowledge that can only be learned by living here for an extended period of time. I would say that for me to successfully run a middle class household here it would take at LEAST 5 years of living in one and being the assistant before I would feel confident taking over the task. To run only the kitchen perhaps I could be qualified in just 2 years. There are so many tricks and ins and outs, ways to make things more efficient and ways to cut corners, ways to get the most bang for your buck things that are done and things that are just not done, for a multitude of reasons that are not always at first so obvious. There are a million things that are not done the same way we would do them in North America and things that must be done that never even come up in an American household.
A successful household must be run by a person who is both shrewd and kind at the same time. Frugal yet generous, hospitable yet... well, you get my drift.
One of the considerations of parents and matchmakers when making a match is that the couple come from similar financial backgrounds and social status, in order to avoid complications and differences in expectations in living styles. For example: a bride from a family that is quite poor is accustomed and used to making do with not very much. Life is still happy and satisfying, it is just lived with great respect for the use of things. If she were married to a husband who was very rich and came from a very high status family with lots of money and servants, she would not be familiar with the rules of that echelon of society or how to run a household with servants if she never had them in her own household growing up, just as an example. I am sure there are things about a rich household that are fundamentally different from how things are run in a lower class household. The thing is that... to live in India is to live by your wits, regardless of your income. Everyone grows up learning from those around them and then having and using this precise knowledge to live their life more smoothly, building on those who have come before them. Unlike in our culture where it seems everyone is constantly re-inventing the wheel, learning everything from themselves. I know i always had to learn my lessons the hard way, hardly listening to the wisdom of those who came before me.
In India everyone has learned to succeed and thrive by being sharp and en pointe. It is a fine tuned machine that everyone learns how to run when they grow up here. Everyone knows how the machine works. So one must be very savvy in their daily life and not an idiot in their dealings. If a bride from a rich family were to marry a poor man, she might grow discontent with her husband’s inability to earn and provide for her the lifestyle to which she was accustomed to before her marriage.
Either scenario can be a great cause of disharmony for both the couple and their family. But when both in the couple are evenly matched and have similar lifestyles and living expectations, there is a greater chance of matrimonial harmony therefore creating a more stable home for children to grow up in. (We are all well aware of the challenges that a broken home can bring to the children of such a situation).
We see this potential conflict in love matches where two people fall in love and one of them is a spendy Wendy, while the other is more frugally minded. Arguments about money are one of the number one causes of divorce i hear.
But back to the skills it takes to run an Indian household. We have this giant stone. Well its two stones really, one large, one small and they serve the purpose of grinding things up into a paste for when the power is out and we can’t use the food processor or for when you want that special hand-ground taste to your masala. These stones, one big flat one and one smaller hand held one have small divets in them that the spices and chilis and stuff can get caught in so that you can crush them easily when you rub the two stones against eachother. Well today I saw a man come to the gate who re-makes these little divets or indents. Apparently the divets on the stones get worn smooth over time with use and need to be re-established, so it is this man’s job to go door to door and with an iron tool, bang in the divets again, for a small fee. How enterprising. Actually, so many things come door to door for the housewives, so they never even have to leave home if they don’t want to. Everything comes to you, every service, every product. Well, i’m sure not EVERY product, but many. One note about this topic: I hope i haven’t offended anyone, Indian, female or otherwise with my writing. It is just simple observation from my point of view, that’s all. It might be fallible or completely inaccurate, it is only my point of view after all.
My final note this evening is about our friend Gopal.
Nakul has a friend, his name is Gopal and he is a yogi. That means he is very much into yoga and meditation and sometimes teaches. Gopal and Nakul have been friends since their school days and I always enjoy a good gab with the two of them. We get into the most interesting discussions about life, god, culture, ... relationships. We discuss everything. And both Gopal and Nakul ask real thoughtful questions and then we discuss. It is probably the most intellectual, spiritual and fun conversations i have ever had in my life. Besides being very wise, Gopal is also very supportive of mine and Nakul’s relationship. So tonight we were at Gopal’s shop sitting and talking and getting very good relationship advice from him. He is like our marriage counsellor and he is really very helpful. He has some very wise opinions and thoughts. Thanks Gopal. That was a lovely little chat we had today.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
3 things you don't want to live without...
Hey i saw something i never saw before here today. A front end loader down at the beach, digging gravel and rocks for building materials. Usually this is a job reserved for a herd of pack mules. So interesting to see the changes here, year after year. Always something new and surprising. wow. So i'm feeling much better today gratefully. I would say fully almost recovered. A little lethargic, but otherwise full power. Had a nice conversation with my mom on the phone today. mmm... tomorrow i think my bag will arrive, then we will have a bag retrieval celebration party. hee hee. The day is cloudy, overcast. Elections are happening, so every morning we are treated to the broadcasting on mobile loudspeakers of all the candidates. Of course i can't understand a word of it. But have had it explained to me. There are only three things in my bag, of all the things i brought, that i am eager and excited to have: 1) knowledge, as represented by my hindi book so i can start studying hungrily, 2) exercise, as represented by my running shoes, which will allow me to start taking long walks in nature (my 40rupee flip flops are infinately not comfortable enough for long sojourns) and 3) homebaked sweets in the form of the shortbread cookies i made before leaving canada 3 weeks ago. ... do you think they will still be good? its just butter, cornstarch, flour and sugar.
Friday, January 20, 2012
the fallen
I'm sick.
Woke up in the night with the chills and couldn’t get warm. I had a fever and body aches worse than i think i can ever remember having in my life. Everything hurt, my head, my eyes, my teeth, my neck, my throat, my shoulders, my back, my arms, my legs, my knees, my feet, my toenails. Everything. Sweats, chills, fever, body aches.... classic flu symptoms and i could just not get comfortable, in any position, to sleep. Wow! Applied the typical wet cold clothe to forehead, that helped, then a back massage, that helped and I was able to nod off and find some comfort for a couple hours.
Only in India are you force fed when you’re sick. Whenever I have a fever, i have a natural aversion to food and i’ll often go a day or two without eating anything solid. Just liquids, and i always crave oranges. So sometimes i’ll live on oranges for two days.
Well, you learn something when your health and wellbeing are in the hands of one determined Indian family. Don’t count on getting your way at all when you are down for the count and deemed unable to make your own decisions anymore. No oranges for you missy, they increase cold. PLEASE???? Please??? Mmm, some excuses made. Oranges never come. A compromise is reached and i am allowed to squeeze a lemon into my water. Ok, that will have to do. Aaaah, sweet oranges, how i will miss you. I’m sure it is mostly a placebo affect with oranges for me, just like an unnecessary band-aid, oranges just make you FEEL better, emotionally and then physically, even if there is really no scientific benefit, it is just what i always associate with feeling better. I think they make me feel good so they do.
It is insisted that I take medicine for the fever and cold and body aches, even though it is usually my stanch policy to allow my body significant time to sort things out on its own. I believe that this somehow builds my immune system when i allow nature to run its course. There’ll be none of that here, it seems. And to take the medicine, you must eat something first, so i oblige to half a chapatti. This lack of enthusiasm for food is met with derision for sure. My appetite could not be lower, and i know my body, i know that when it has fever, it likes to be left alone to burn it off on its own, and it never hangs around long. I always think that the fever and raising body temperature is the bodies natural way of cleaning house, and it wouldn’t make sense to send the cleaning crew away, job half unfinished, but anyways..... i don’t win this battle. I do thrice turn down the offer to see a doctor, explaining that it is only the first day. Fevers are so natural. If it persists for days and days and something is clearly wrong, then we can consider the doctor. It amazes me at how quick we are to run to the doctor. For what? What will he do? Take my temperature? Tell me yes, you have a fever? Thanks doc! Then give me more of the tablets that i am already taking.
I AM allowed to sleep after this, which is all i want in the whole world right now. To stay in bed where it is warm and cozy and soft.
Nakul has to go to work. That’s fine. Ritu comes up to check me out. Oh man. She is satisfied and lets me rest. 2 hours later she is back with a plate of kichardi. Kichardi is a concoction made for the convalescing. It is supposed to be easy to digest and medicinal in nature. A mix of rice and moong dahl, cooked all in one pot with vegetables and turmeric, cumin and green chilis, it is considered the one and only super food here in india and anytime you are complaining of any kind of ailment, you will be served this.
I could not convince her not to make me eat it. I had to. She went downstairs for another fever and body aches tablet for me to take, i pushed around the food a little more on my plate. When she came back i protested again that i wasn’t hungry. I tried three times, but she wasn’t having any of it. So down goes the kichardi.
I think in India, eating is so important to health, and loss of appetite is... well, its not like in the west where we live in a state of almost constant over-indulgence. So much so that one day off will probably be good for us, give our digestion systems a break. But here, it is viewed as kind of the first step towards death, and to not eat, well... that is simply not acceptable.
So i eat as much of the dreaded kichardi with my no appetite as i can, Knowing that this is probably going to be counterproductive in my body’s natural processes. And i down the second pill. I am resigned by now to the fact that my body has ceased to be under my own authority anymore and is now the proper of one very loving, very caring Indian family in Laxman Jhula.
mmmmm, wrote that yesterday. Feeling better today. Just slept all day yesterday. Nakul brought oranged or... he says they are not oranges (but they look and taste like oranges). Maybe they are satsuma or some cousin of the orange,, anyhow. Did the trick. After eating two in the evening i immediately felt better. Funny, the body just knows. So ya, my fever broke in the night and my chills and pains are mostly gone. Still have a headache, still incredibly tired, but i think i might mosey downstairs and eat something. It will make everyone happy. Then come back to bed. Love to all!
Woke up in the night with the chills and couldn’t get warm. I had a fever and body aches worse than i think i can ever remember having in my life. Everything hurt, my head, my eyes, my teeth, my neck, my throat, my shoulders, my back, my arms, my legs, my knees, my feet, my toenails. Everything. Sweats, chills, fever, body aches.... classic flu symptoms and i could just not get comfortable, in any position, to sleep. Wow! Applied the typical wet cold clothe to forehead, that helped, then a back massage, that helped and I was able to nod off and find some comfort for a couple hours.
Only in India are you force fed when you’re sick. Whenever I have a fever, i have a natural aversion to food and i’ll often go a day or two without eating anything solid. Just liquids, and i always crave oranges. So sometimes i’ll live on oranges for two days.
Well, you learn something when your health and wellbeing are in the hands of one determined Indian family. Don’t count on getting your way at all when you are down for the count and deemed unable to make your own decisions anymore. No oranges for you missy, they increase cold. PLEASE???? Please??? Mmm, some excuses made. Oranges never come. A compromise is reached and i am allowed to squeeze a lemon into my water. Ok, that will have to do. Aaaah, sweet oranges, how i will miss you. I’m sure it is mostly a placebo affect with oranges for me, just like an unnecessary band-aid, oranges just make you FEEL better, emotionally and then physically, even if there is really no scientific benefit, it is just what i always associate with feeling better. I think they make me feel good so they do.
It is insisted that I take medicine for the fever and cold and body aches, even though it is usually my stanch policy to allow my body significant time to sort things out on its own. I believe that this somehow builds my immune system when i allow nature to run its course. There’ll be none of that here, it seems. And to take the medicine, you must eat something first, so i oblige to half a chapatti. This lack of enthusiasm for food is met with derision for sure. My appetite could not be lower, and i know my body, i know that when it has fever, it likes to be left alone to burn it off on its own, and it never hangs around long. I always think that the fever and raising body temperature is the bodies natural way of cleaning house, and it wouldn’t make sense to send the cleaning crew away, job half unfinished, but anyways..... i don’t win this battle. I do thrice turn down the offer to see a doctor, explaining that it is only the first day. Fevers are so natural. If it persists for days and days and something is clearly wrong, then we can consider the doctor. It amazes me at how quick we are to run to the doctor. For what? What will he do? Take my temperature? Tell me yes, you have a fever? Thanks doc! Then give me more of the tablets that i am already taking.
I AM allowed to sleep after this, which is all i want in the whole world right now. To stay in bed where it is warm and cozy and soft.
Nakul has to go to work. That’s fine. Ritu comes up to check me out. Oh man. She is satisfied and lets me rest. 2 hours later she is back with a plate of kichardi. Kichardi is a concoction made for the convalescing. It is supposed to be easy to digest and medicinal in nature. A mix of rice and moong dahl, cooked all in one pot with vegetables and turmeric, cumin and green chilis, it is considered the one and only super food here in india and anytime you are complaining of any kind of ailment, you will be served this.
I could not convince her not to make me eat it. I had to. She went downstairs for another fever and body aches tablet for me to take, i pushed around the food a little more on my plate. When she came back i protested again that i wasn’t hungry. I tried three times, but she wasn’t having any of it. So down goes the kichardi.
I think in India, eating is so important to health, and loss of appetite is... well, its not like in the west where we live in a state of almost constant over-indulgence. So much so that one day off will probably be good for us, give our digestion systems a break. But here, it is viewed as kind of the first step towards death, and to not eat, well... that is simply not acceptable.
So i eat as much of the dreaded kichardi with my no appetite as i can, Knowing that this is probably going to be counterproductive in my body’s natural processes. And i down the second pill. I am resigned by now to the fact that my body has ceased to be under my own authority anymore and is now the proper of one very loving, very caring Indian family in Laxman Jhula.
mmmmm, wrote that yesterday. Feeling better today. Just slept all day yesterday. Nakul brought oranged or... he says they are not oranges (but they look and taste like oranges). Maybe they are satsuma or some cousin of the orange,, anyhow. Did the trick. After eating two in the evening i immediately felt better. Funny, the body just knows. So ya, my fever broke in the night and my chills and pains are mostly gone. Still have a headache, still incredibly tired, but i think i might mosey downstairs and eat something. It will make everyone happy. Then come back to bed. Love to all!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Rajistani sweet shop
Sittin here, on my bed, again marvelling over the fact that i can actually go online from the comfort of my room way up here in the foothills of the Himalayas. Just chilling out after another crazy trip to the market with Ritu. Its so peaceful here at the house by comparison. So quiet and peaceful. The market is so noisy and bustling and full of people. But we always have fun, walking hand in hand and browsing the shops. I bought a box of sweets at the beloved "Rajistani Sweets Shop" to bring home to the family. I love indian sweets. They are an acquired taste, but they are so so yummy. yum. Hmm, lets see, what else? Posted a couple new pictures below... you will see me and Ritu there. Ummm... hmm, what else. Ya, i'm adjusting. Definately settling in now. More acclimatized for sure. ya. really really eager to start studying hindi. I can feel my ripeness, my readiness, my hunger for learning, which is pretty cool. I'm gonna need this motivation to achieve this big task of learning yet another new language. haha. especially at my age. hee hee. hmm.
Today was super foggy. Foggy all day, the fog just hung in the air, thick and heavy. mmm, well, sorry i don't have more exciting news. Life is just normal here. Love everyone!!
Today was super foggy. Foggy all day, the fog just hung in the air, thick and heavy. mmm, well, sorry i don't have more exciting news. Life is just normal here. Love everyone!!
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
my bag's journey
So I was gonna just have my bag couriered at a pretty penny, but Nakul and his brother, Nirmal, would have none of it. Through a network of friends and relatives, Nakul and Nirmal have stealthily arranged for my bag to be transported from Delhi to Rishikesh from Amit via Ritu's brother who will pass off said pain-in-the-petouzy bag to Nakul's brother's friend who is coming to rishikesh this monday on the bus. Man. I didn't want to inconvenience anyone, but it is a bold triumph i think for everyone that through friend's and family we can do these things for eachother and save someone some money. That is what it is to have friends in India. Friendship and family is worth more than gold.
Lost Luggage Caper Update
HEY there! well, i forgot AGAIN to bring my camera out with me. i keep intending to bring it when i go for walks but i forgot again. oops! So sounds like we had a big winter storm there at home. wow! so awesome. sorry i missed it. i love to stay home in winter and watch the snow come down (AND NOT DRIVE) or I love to go snowboarding when there is a whole foot of fresh on sun peaks. of course. BLAAA! so jealous. hee hee.
Anyways.... there's news. The Great Luggage Caper has taken a positive turn.... Nakul's cousin went to the airport. It was a great ordeal involving him needing to bring two passport sized photos so they can make him a temporary i.d. entry pass just to enter the airport. What a process. At one point he phoned us and said he had talked to the baggage claim "officials" who were telling him that in addition to any customs charges which could be up to $200cad, that there would be an additional "storage fee" since my luggage had been there for almost two weeks. Oh that phone call made me livid. That they would have the nerve to charge storage when THEY lost my bag, when THEY failed to deliver it on the prescribed day, when THEY failed to answer the phone we we called repeatedly over 4 days. wow! wow. wow. ya, so... amit was calling us and giving us updates as things went along. Amit works for human rights in delhi, he is some kind of official government guy himself, so... i have him to thank for spending his whole day off there at the airport, trying to sort out MY baggage woes. I have him to thank for the customs officials in the end not opening my bag at all, just scanning it through with their x-ray machine (i tell you, the bag was so meticulously packed. If someone were to open it, they would never be able to get all that stuff put back inside, mom, you saw the mountain of stuff i had and the small bag that i was determined to fit it all into, so you understand). I have Amit to thank that i didn't get charged storage fees or customs fees and my bag was given to him unopened, unharmed and completely free of charge. So after all that stress over the stupid bag, the result couldn't have turned out more favourable. I think they were a little scared of Amit because he works for human rights and is this big official type guy. Nakul says for sure if it was me who had gone to the airport, they would have extorted the highest fee possible for the return of my bag. So this is all great. I have promised to throw amit a big party, next time i see him.
So now, we will either courier my bag from delhi, or i will go get it, or nakuls brother is going to delhi in a couple weeks and might bring it back. but the bag is in our possession now, and out of the hands of the stinking authorities.
so that's about it all that is happening exciting.
hope you are all making snow angels and enjoying the white stuff for me.
love and kisses,
ang
Anyways.... there's news. The Great Luggage Caper has taken a positive turn.... Nakul's cousin went to the airport. It was a great ordeal involving him needing to bring two passport sized photos so they can make him a temporary i.d. entry pass just to enter the airport. What a process. At one point he phoned us and said he had talked to the baggage claim "officials" who were telling him that in addition to any customs charges which could be up to $200cad, that there would be an additional "storage fee" since my luggage had been there for almost two weeks. Oh that phone call made me livid. That they would have the nerve to charge storage when THEY lost my bag, when THEY failed to deliver it on the prescribed day, when THEY failed to answer the phone we we called repeatedly over 4 days. wow! wow. wow. ya, so... amit was calling us and giving us updates as things went along. Amit works for human rights in delhi, he is some kind of official government guy himself, so... i have him to thank for spending his whole day off there at the airport, trying to sort out MY baggage woes. I have him to thank for the customs officials in the end not opening my bag at all, just scanning it through with their x-ray machine (i tell you, the bag was so meticulously packed. If someone were to open it, they would never be able to get all that stuff put back inside, mom, you saw the mountain of stuff i had and the small bag that i was determined to fit it all into, so you understand). I have Amit to thank that i didn't get charged storage fees or customs fees and my bag was given to him unopened, unharmed and completely free of charge. So after all that stress over the stupid bag, the result couldn't have turned out more favourable. I think they were a little scared of Amit because he works for human rights and is this big official type guy. Nakul says for sure if it was me who had gone to the airport, they would have extorted the highest fee possible for the return of my bag. So this is all great. I have promised to throw amit a big party, next time i see him.
So now, we will either courier my bag from delhi, or i will go get it, or nakuls brother is going to delhi in a couple weeks and might bring it back. but the bag is in our possession now, and out of the hands of the stinking authorities.
so that's about it all that is happening exciting.
hope you are all making snow angels and enjoying the white stuff for me.
love and kisses,
ang
Saturday, January 14, 2012
hot water and pani puri
Someone has fixed the hot water in the kitchen and i am in heaven. No more ice cold water hands. Yay! Like i said before: the simple things. Today played 3 chess games with Nakul's niece Manu after breakfast. 9 years old and she plays a mean game of chess. Pretty cool. The shopping trip with Ritu the other day was a blast. We sat in the sari shop while shirt after shirt after shirt (salwar top) was laid out for us to choose. Every shirt in the shop was brought out. I selected one nice one. And pants too, but the pants I will have to return since they don't fit. Then we strolled the streets of the market arm in arm, browsing in the shops. It seems we created quite a stir because people would look and whisper when we went past. We must have been quite a sight, Ritu dressed in her finest sari, looking like a princess, on the arm of one scruffy-looking by comparison foreigner.... they always seem to never like my feet. Whenever I get the "once over" it is always on my feet that their eyes seem to linger. Must be my bare ankles or lack of jewellry or any kind of adornment. No self-respecting Indian woman would leave the house so naked. Anyhow. We meandered down to the river and paid our respects, Ritu made me try different delicacies in the street. She is a fan of fried things, not sweets like me, and before i knew it i was agreeing to pop a whole "pani puri" in my mouth, not knowing at all what i was committing to. It looked like a small fried puffy bread, that is hollow and then dipped in what looks like some kind of sugar syrup. Looks tasty enough. Well, thats what i figured. The reality was a shocking strange kinda salty, kinda... i don't know, how to explain. NOT what i expected, thats for sure, and now i had a whole unwanted mouth full of it. Hilarious. What to do but to keep chewing, swallow and refuse the second helping. It was fun to watch. We picked up a few foodstuffs for the house and chattered away as we walked, exchanging ideas and likes and dislikes. I learned alot, about ritu, about India, about life.
Yesterday Nakul and i photocopied my passport and couriered the authorization letter off to amit in delhi. Probably on Monday he will go to the airport, then we will see. It was a lovely day yesterday. Thoroughly enjoyable.
I am loving being in the kitchen. Learning so much. Absorbing like a sponge, how to make tarka, how to make chole, how to make mushroom aloo subji, all these wonderful things. It is like a chemists lab in there and i am amazed at the power of observation, both of daily tasks and of human interaction and sociology. I guess there was a reason I was always interested in languages and travel and sociology and anthropology in school. so fascinating. I love to be involved with everything and i am finally finding my quirky little place amongst the family.
The food is so amazing. I am starting to feel really really good from eating such great and healthy food. The spices in the food are like medicine, turmeric, cumin, chili and ginger. Mmmm so good. Starting to feel downright energetic and clean.
ok
gotta run,
love and kisses
Yesterday Nakul and i photocopied my passport and couriered the authorization letter off to amit in delhi. Probably on Monday he will go to the airport, then we will see. It was a lovely day yesterday. Thoroughly enjoyable.
I am loving being in the kitchen. Learning so much. Absorbing like a sponge, how to make tarka, how to make chole, how to make mushroom aloo subji, all these wonderful things. It is like a chemists lab in there and i am amazed at the power of observation, both of daily tasks and of human interaction and sociology. I guess there was a reason I was always interested in languages and travel and sociology and anthropology in school. so fascinating. I love to be involved with everything and i am finally finding my quirky little place amongst the family.
The food is so amazing. I am starting to feel really really good from eating such great and healthy food. The spices in the food are like medicine, turmeric, cumin, chili and ginger. Mmmm so good. Starting to feel downright energetic and clean.
ok
gotta run,
love and kisses
Thursday, January 12, 2012
The Great Lost Luggage Caper of 2012
Great News! We have our first clue in The Great Lost Luggage Caper of 2012.
After repeated daily phone calls to the lost baggage department of Indira Ghandi International where the phone just rang and rang unanswered, finally someone picked up! Both Nakul and I just about jumped out of our pants when we heard the voice answer on the other end because we’ve been trying for days, at all hours, morning, noon and night. We had also phoned my airline, only to be told that the baggage claim number we had was the only one they could give us. Thanks a bunch.
I had just finished saying “i think i better get used to the idea of not getting my bag back” when the guy on the other end answered. The conversation went something like this:
“Hello?”
“Hello!!”
“Hello.”
“Yes, I have some lost luggage”
“what is your good name ma’am?”
“Angelina Edgson”
“I’m sorry? Your last name?”
“E D G S O N”
“one moment ma’am”
Waiting...... waiting......
“Yes, Angelina Edgson, baggage claim # CA 992469”
“yes, yes, thats right, what is happening?”
“well, your bag has arrived ma’am but customs needs to check it”
“aah, i see”
“customs problem”
“uhuh, customs problem”
“maybe you will have to pay some fee, the commissioner has to open your bag and see”
“uhuh”
“when are you coming?”
“coming where?”
“to delhi madame, when are you coming to delhi?”
“to delhi?? Well, i’m not coming to delhi actually”
Long pause....
“customs problem ma’am”
“yes, i know”
At which point i realize i don’t know how to solve this problem and i am having an extremely hard time understanding this man so i push the phone at Nakul and beg him to speak to the man in Hindi. He obliges. I listen to a long drawn out discussion using the words “commissioner” and “passport” and other such things while watching Nakul scribble notes in my notebook.
So this is the process by which we plan to get my bag back:
The assistant to the commissioner of baggage has suggested that since I am not in delhi and not keen on making the trip there anytime soon, that i pen a letter authorizing a friend in Delhi to come to the airport and act on my behalf on claiming my luggage and paying any necessary fees. I am to sign this letter and send it to Nakul’s cousin Amit in Delhi. Then Amit will go to the airport with my letter and two pieces of picture ID, giving them one day’s notice in advance of course. They will then open my stuffed-to-the-gills-bag in front of Amit and examine its contents. Based on this they will decide WHICH items are a “customs problem”, according to them. I am eager to hear, is it my homemade cookies or my used socks and underwear that you must charge a duty on. Please sirs, tell me.
So that is the kicker. Yes, i have gifts in my bag. Yes, some of them are NEW gifts. But that is allowable. In any place in the world I have travelled it is allowable to bring a few dollars worth of gifts into the country. It’s not like I am importing laptops and watches or some such thing. Man. Really testing my patience now people. And the really really ironic thing is that... even if i WAS selling any of the contents of my bag, new or used, i wouldn’t be able to get even a fraction of the price i paid for them in Canada and there are no cigarettes, there is no alcohol. Wow.
And so it seems i have been introduced to a new version of what i have come to call “the tourist tax”. The tourist tax is something i have stumbled across in my travels. They have it in Guatamala, in Costa Rica and yes, even Panama. It comes in the form of an opportunistic pick pocket in a bustling market or... more creatively, once it came in the form of a very enterprising young Panamanian “travelling” in Southern Costa Rica. His racket was a familiar one yet my scam radar failed to go off about him beforehand, warning me of the fraud. Befriend the tourists, gain their trust, share a room with them, then double back and clean them out while they are swimming at the local watering hole, re-locking the door and taking the key with him when he goes, leaving the 2 Swedes and one Canadian girl soaking in the sun and wondering what is taking their friend so long to return with the refreshments. Classic story. Classic mistake. I should have known, but my sixth sense was thrown off by the charming, amicable and infinitately trustworthy Swedes who convinced me to go in on a room with them and the Panamanian posing as a Tico so we could all save money. Tourist tax. We got the hotel owner to break down the door finally so we could inspect the damage. Not too bad. It was about the equivalent of $40cad. The Panamanian was kind of enough to rifle THROUGH my money belt, only taking cash, but leaving me my passport and traveller’s cheques. Thank you Pedro. You are not a COMPLETE douche bag.
So anyhow. ...There i go with the digressions. So now i have met my newest form of tourist tax, the Delhi lost baggage department at Indira Gandhi Airport. Ok, you guys win. What do i “owe”’ you. Can i have my shortbread now please?
After repeated daily phone calls to the lost baggage department of Indira Ghandi International where the phone just rang and rang unanswered, finally someone picked up! Both Nakul and I just about jumped out of our pants when we heard the voice answer on the other end because we’ve been trying for days, at all hours, morning, noon and night. We had also phoned my airline, only to be told that the baggage claim number we had was the only one they could give us. Thanks a bunch.
I had just finished saying “i think i better get used to the idea of not getting my bag back” when the guy on the other end answered. The conversation went something like this:
“Hello?”
“Hello!!”
“Hello.”
“Yes, I have some lost luggage”
“what is your good name ma’am?”
“Angelina Edgson”
“I’m sorry? Your last name?”
“E D G S O N”
“one moment ma’am”
Waiting...... waiting......
“Yes, Angelina Edgson, baggage claim # CA 992469”
“yes, yes, thats right, what is happening?”
“well, your bag has arrived ma’am but customs needs to check it”
“aah, i see”
“customs problem”
“uhuh, customs problem”
“maybe you will have to pay some fee, the commissioner has to open your bag and see”
“uhuh”
“when are you coming?”
“coming where?”
“to delhi madame, when are you coming to delhi?”
“to delhi?? Well, i’m not coming to delhi actually”
Long pause....
“customs problem ma’am”
“yes, i know”
At which point i realize i don’t know how to solve this problem and i am having an extremely hard time understanding this man so i push the phone at Nakul and beg him to speak to the man in Hindi. He obliges. I listen to a long drawn out discussion using the words “commissioner” and “passport” and other such things while watching Nakul scribble notes in my notebook.
So this is the process by which we plan to get my bag back:
The assistant to the commissioner of baggage has suggested that since I am not in delhi and not keen on making the trip there anytime soon, that i pen a letter authorizing a friend in Delhi to come to the airport and act on my behalf on claiming my luggage and paying any necessary fees. I am to sign this letter and send it to Nakul’s cousin Amit in Delhi. Then Amit will go to the airport with my letter and two pieces of picture ID, giving them one day’s notice in advance of course. They will then open my stuffed-to-the-gills-bag in front of Amit and examine its contents. Based on this they will decide WHICH items are a “customs problem”, according to them. I am eager to hear, is it my homemade cookies or my used socks and underwear that you must charge a duty on. Please sirs, tell me.
So that is the kicker. Yes, i have gifts in my bag. Yes, some of them are NEW gifts. But that is allowable. In any place in the world I have travelled it is allowable to bring a few dollars worth of gifts into the country. It’s not like I am importing laptops and watches or some such thing. Man. Really testing my patience now people. And the really really ironic thing is that... even if i WAS selling any of the contents of my bag, new or used, i wouldn’t be able to get even a fraction of the price i paid for them in Canada and there are no cigarettes, there is no alcohol. Wow.
And so it seems i have been introduced to a new version of what i have come to call “the tourist tax”. The tourist tax is something i have stumbled across in my travels. They have it in Guatamala, in Costa Rica and yes, even Panama. It comes in the form of an opportunistic pick pocket in a bustling market or... more creatively, once it came in the form of a very enterprising young Panamanian “travelling” in Southern Costa Rica. His racket was a familiar one yet my scam radar failed to go off about him beforehand, warning me of the fraud. Befriend the tourists, gain their trust, share a room with them, then double back and clean them out while they are swimming at the local watering hole, re-locking the door and taking the key with him when he goes, leaving the 2 Swedes and one Canadian girl soaking in the sun and wondering what is taking their friend so long to return with the refreshments. Classic story. Classic mistake. I should have known, but my sixth sense was thrown off by the charming, amicable and infinitately trustworthy Swedes who convinced me to go in on a room with them and the Panamanian posing as a Tico so we could all save money. Tourist tax. We got the hotel owner to break down the door finally so we could inspect the damage. Not too bad. It was about the equivalent of $40cad. The Panamanian was kind of enough to rifle THROUGH my money belt, only taking cash, but leaving me my passport and traveller’s cheques. Thank you Pedro. You are not a COMPLETE douche bag.
So anyhow. ...There i go with the digressions. So now i have met my newest form of tourist tax, the Delhi lost baggage department at Indira Gandhi Airport. Ok, you guys win. What do i “owe”’ you. Can i have my shortbread now please?
update
Good morning everyone, or suprabha if you are joining us from the Indian subcontinent. (if you are, then i apologize in advance for my poor spelling there).
Sunny day here. Sunny and windy and cool.
Every day has a different energy. It is just like surfing. Every day has a different kind of wave with a different character and personality to it. To ride it successfully is to read its every mood and twitch.
For example yesterday: I woke up to a storm. The waves were choppy, rough and tossed you around alot. Then the weather smoothed out and the waves got real glassy and well formed and easy to ride. Effortless it seemed. Sorry, i’m being way too abstract and self indulgent in my writing. And i won’t complain about how hard it is to write about my experience here but.... writing about something .... sometimes, somewhere in the process of putting a description to something, a connectivity with that thing is lost. It sort of takes you out of the experience itself. Does anyone know what i am talking about?
Oops. That’s just the inside of my brain.
Here we are, just living. Simple. Day in, day out. We wake up, we bathe, we brush our teeth, if i am keen i do a little yoga on the floor of our room. Our room is fabulous. It is the most beautiful room in the whole place. It is so bright and airy, its on the top floor and there are no other rooms there. The view of the Ganga is magnificent. I will post pics as soon as I can. Nakul did a wonderful job of making it all nice for us. They just built this house and in fact the doors were just hung in our room the day before i arrived. So we are its first occupants. The walls are painted a delicate lavender purple. The 3 guest rooms below us are still not complete, but the first floor where his mother, brother, sister in law, cousin and niece and nephew live were completed first and they are all moved in. We are a family of 8. Everyone loves the new house and so do I.
I am settling in here. The first two days was jetlag crazy, took 4 days before i wasn’t going to bed before 6pm every night. I think it actually helped that when i arrived in delhi it was midnight and we took a car and drove back to Rishikesh without staying overnight in Delhi. It was a long and densely fogged drive from Delhi to Rishikesh. During which we had to stop on the side of the road and sleep at one point because the fog was so thick and our driver so tired that it was clearly not safe to push on. Normally the drive can be done in 5 or 6 hours i believe, in the summer in midday, but with the limited visibility and our sleepy driver, it was more like ten. The whole trip from Vancouver to Delhi is a laborious one. I have found the only way to stay sane on that journey is to enter some kind of a delirious timeless trance where you let go of any serious attachment to where and when you are. Crossing the dateline always trips me out.
So anyhow, yes, i’m settling in.
After waking, showering, yogaing we go downstairs for chai. Savouring the sweet simplicity of chai. Really its the simple things in life the hot sweet chai sharp with ginger reminds you on a cold January morning in the Himalayas of whats important. Well, not formally the Himalayas per se, the foothills. After chai we have breakfast. Usually, well, almost always fresh hot whole wheat chapati with butter and either some vegetables or today was beans. So yum. The food remains one of my favourite things about it here. Everyday. Every meal, the most sumptuous and healthy Indian dishes. There seems to be no end. I have not seen the same dish twice since I have been here and whenever the onions, garlic, and chili start to fry a part of my brain becomes very, very alert.
One of my most concerning worries about being here is how I can give back, what i can contribute to our family here. They refuse to accept any money for my room, or for my meals. In fact it seems clearly insulting that i would even suggest it, so i have dropped it completely. Instead I have begun to look for ways that I can pitch in. It took me weeks last time to finally convince Ritu to let me wash the dishes. In Canada, you know, the dishes is an easy fool proof task that any monkey can do in an unfamiliar household. I couldn’t understand her resistance to letting me help with this simple thing. And here is one of the subtle nuances and intricacies that has become unveiled to me. And these things take time. Sometimes I don’t understand something at first, and the way is not clear to me, and sometimes it is not until waaaay later that i find out things. People are so considerate not to make you feel bad here, or hurt your feelings. No one will ever say to me “you forgot to turn off the light in the kitchen” (they are very power smart here), they will just continue to turn off the light behind me and never say anything, and never harbour more than a moments resentment. If I leave the hot water heater on in our bathroom, Nakul will not say to me “hey, you forgot to turn off the geyser”, but i noticed that i do not hesitate to remind him if he forgets to hang up his towel or any other similar or unimportant infractions.
So it is that I found out about the dishes one day while Ritu and I were cooking she asked me if i had servants at my house in Canada. I laughed and assured her no, I am the servant. Hahahah. Only movie stars and very rich people can afford servants in Canada. Then she told me that in Delhi at her family’s house they have one servant that does all the washing and cleaning. And it was then that I realized that the reason she was not wanting to let me wash the dishes is that it is considered the most lowly task in the household. Not a task for guests. In india, guests are king. So i am in this process of moving from being a guest to a member of the family. Plus I actually enjoy washing dishes, so once she discovered that i LIKED it, then it was much more easy to let me do it. I think.
So after breakfast, I wash the dishes. Although today I played chess with Gunnu, Nakul’s little nephew before i washed dishes. Then I either hang out in the kitchen with Ritu and cook lunch or I go up to our room and clean, or wash out my clothes, or listen to music, or do some writing. Then we have lunch and i wash the dishes again. After lunch sometimes I got out for a walk or Nakul and i will go into town on the scooter and go shopping and eat paneer dosas or yesterday we came up on the roof. It was sunny, so we took everything out of our room, blankets, rugs, mattresses and set them in the sun to warm and freshen in the sun. It was actually hot i was able to peel off all my layers down to short sleeves and feel sun on my arms. It was nice. We laid out and listened to music, i sewed up a blanket and the kids came and played around us. And today Ritu is gonna come with me into the market and go shopping for some clothes. A little girls day out. Then around 4 or 5 we have chai again. we build a little campfire outside and sit around it until dinnertime. Then we eat, i do the dishes and we go to bed. Its cold at night, so everyone goes to bed early and sleeps late. So that is how the days go, in a nutshell. I am eager to start studying Hindi. The urge to learn is as strong or stronger as it was to learn japanese when i first landed in Okinawa. It happens when you meet people you really really wanna talk to. If my bag with my hindi book in it doesn’t come soon, i think i’m gonna have to go out and buy another one here. I guess the good thing is that i am spending no money here. Zero.
It seems here there is no room for self-absorption or self-importance. Its all for one and one for all. A wonderful place to just get over yourself already.
Here’s an interesting fact: the average middle class Indian family of 8 produces less garbage in a week than an average middle class Canadian family of 4 does in ONE DAY. A fraction of it in fact. Most of it is organice garbage anyways, since what we eat is mostly rice, lentils and vegetables.
So, this is what daily life is looking like.
love all of you from the bottom of my heart,
ang
Sunny day here. Sunny and windy and cool.
Every day has a different energy. It is just like surfing. Every day has a different kind of wave with a different character and personality to it. To ride it successfully is to read its every mood and twitch.
For example yesterday: I woke up to a storm. The waves were choppy, rough and tossed you around alot. Then the weather smoothed out and the waves got real glassy and well formed and easy to ride. Effortless it seemed. Sorry, i’m being way too abstract and self indulgent in my writing. And i won’t complain about how hard it is to write about my experience here but.... writing about something .... sometimes, somewhere in the process of putting a description to something, a connectivity with that thing is lost. It sort of takes you out of the experience itself. Does anyone know what i am talking about?
Oops. That’s just the inside of my brain.
Here we are, just living. Simple. Day in, day out. We wake up, we bathe, we brush our teeth, if i am keen i do a little yoga on the floor of our room. Our room is fabulous. It is the most beautiful room in the whole place. It is so bright and airy, its on the top floor and there are no other rooms there. The view of the Ganga is magnificent. I will post pics as soon as I can. Nakul did a wonderful job of making it all nice for us. They just built this house and in fact the doors were just hung in our room the day before i arrived. So we are its first occupants. The walls are painted a delicate lavender purple. The 3 guest rooms below us are still not complete, but the first floor where his mother, brother, sister in law, cousin and niece and nephew live were completed first and they are all moved in. We are a family of 8. Everyone loves the new house and so do I.
I am settling in here. The first two days was jetlag crazy, took 4 days before i wasn’t going to bed before 6pm every night. I think it actually helped that when i arrived in delhi it was midnight and we took a car and drove back to Rishikesh without staying overnight in Delhi. It was a long and densely fogged drive from Delhi to Rishikesh. During which we had to stop on the side of the road and sleep at one point because the fog was so thick and our driver so tired that it was clearly not safe to push on. Normally the drive can be done in 5 or 6 hours i believe, in the summer in midday, but with the limited visibility and our sleepy driver, it was more like ten. The whole trip from Vancouver to Delhi is a laborious one. I have found the only way to stay sane on that journey is to enter some kind of a delirious timeless trance where you let go of any serious attachment to where and when you are. Crossing the dateline always trips me out.
So anyhow, yes, i’m settling in.
After waking, showering, yogaing we go downstairs for chai. Savouring the sweet simplicity of chai. Really its the simple things in life the hot sweet chai sharp with ginger reminds you on a cold January morning in the Himalayas of whats important. Well, not formally the Himalayas per se, the foothills. After chai we have breakfast. Usually, well, almost always fresh hot whole wheat chapati with butter and either some vegetables or today was beans. So yum. The food remains one of my favourite things about it here. Everyday. Every meal, the most sumptuous and healthy Indian dishes. There seems to be no end. I have not seen the same dish twice since I have been here and whenever the onions, garlic, and chili start to fry a part of my brain becomes very, very alert.
One of my most concerning worries about being here is how I can give back, what i can contribute to our family here. They refuse to accept any money for my room, or for my meals. In fact it seems clearly insulting that i would even suggest it, so i have dropped it completely. Instead I have begun to look for ways that I can pitch in. It took me weeks last time to finally convince Ritu to let me wash the dishes. In Canada, you know, the dishes is an easy fool proof task that any monkey can do in an unfamiliar household. I couldn’t understand her resistance to letting me help with this simple thing. And here is one of the subtle nuances and intricacies that has become unveiled to me. And these things take time. Sometimes I don’t understand something at first, and the way is not clear to me, and sometimes it is not until waaaay later that i find out things. People are so considerate not to make you feel bad here, or hurt your feelings. No one will ever say to me “you forgot to turn off the light in the kitchen” (they are very power smart here), they will just continue to turn off the light behind me and never say anything, and never harbour more than a moments resentment. If I leave the hot water heater on in our bathroom, Nakul will not say to me “hey, you forgot to turn off the geyser”, but i noticed that i do not hesitate to remind him if he forgets to hang up his towel or any other similar or unimportant infractions.
So it is that I found out about the dishes one day while Ritu and I were cooking she asked me if i had servants at my house in Canada. I laughed and assured her no, I am the servant. Hahahah. Only movie stars and very rich people can afford servants in Canada. Then she told me that in Delhi at her family’s house they have one servant that does all the washing and cleaning. And it was then that I realized that the reason she was not wanting to let me wash the dishes is that it is considered the most lowly task in the household. Not a task for guests. In india, guests are king. So i am in this process of moving from being a guest to a member of the family. Plus I actually enjoy washing dishes, so once she discovered that i LIKED it, then it was much more easy to let me do it. I think.
So after breakfast, I wash the dishes. Although today I played chess with Gunnu, Nakul’s little nephew before i washed dishes. Then I either hang out in the kitchen with Ritu and cook lunch or I go up to our room and clean, or wash out my clothes, or listen to music, or do some writing. Then we have lunch and i wash the dishes again. After lunch sometimes I got out for a walk or Nakul and i will go into town on the scooter and go shopping and eat paneer dosas or yesterday we came up on the roof. It was sunny, so we took everything out of our room, blankets, rugs, mattresses and set them in the sun to warm and freshen in the sun. It was actually hot i was able to peel off all my layers down to short sleeves and feel sun on my arms. It was nice. We laid out and listened to music, i sewed up a blanket and the kids came and played around us. And today Ritu is gonna come with me into the market and go shopping for some clothes. A little girls day out. Then around 4 or 5 we have chai again. we build a little campfire outside and sit around it until dinnertime. Then we eat, i do the dishes and we go to bed. Its cold at night, so everyone goes to bed early and sleeps late. So that is how the days go, in a nutshell. I am eager to start studying Hindi. The urge to learn is as strong or stronger as it was to learn japanese when i first landed in Okinawa. It happens when you meet people you really really wanna talk to. If my bag with my hindi book in it doesn’t come soon, i think i’m gonna have to go out and buy another one here. I guess the good thing is that i am spending no money here. Zero.
It seems here there is no room for self-absorption or self-importance. Its all for one and one for all. A wonderful place to just get over yourself already.
Here’s an interesting fact: the average middle class Indian family of 8 produces less garbage in a week than an average middle class Canadian family of 4 does in ONE DAY. A fraction of it in fact. Most of it is organice garbage anyways, since what we eat is mostly rice, lentils and vegetables.
So, this is what daily life is looking like.
love all of you from the bottom of my heart,
ang
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
rajma and shortbread
I have a head cold. Nothing major, just a bit itchy eyes and nose, heavy head, stuffed up, that kind of thing. Finally getting settled in here. Funny how it takes awhile, but I guess thats natural. Little bit of culture shock goes a long way towards stretching your boundaries and inviting personal growth.
It is amazing to me that I can get internet, from the comfort of my bed, on my own laptop hoooked up to Nakul's cel phone, in the middle of northern India. What kind of crazy technology is that. I can even skype. wow.
It has been an interesting journey over the last week. Air China lost our luggage as most of you have already heard. So I am living with even less than I usually do. It is a little annoying. Mostly because i had two kinds of shortbread I had made tucked away in there. Funny how out of all the things in that bag, the shortbread is the one I am most missing.
Losing my baggage has turned out to be symbolic of me losing my cultural baggage as well. I recognize that a person's culture and socialization is what we use to get by in our worlds. Its what we use to survive in our worlds. And when you go to another world, that whole set of rules changes, completely. Values change, priorities change, everything changes.
My mom's friend Debra is in Calcutta. She is on a Christian mission trip and has been there for the past 6 months, never having been to India before. She is wearing a sari and learning Bengali (coincidentally the mother tongue of Nakul's family) and undergoing tremendous transformation from what i hear.
apparently culture shock can come in levels and layers, like an onion. Each translucent layer peeling off one by one.
I'm not gonna say this past week has been easy. The more i tried to apply my expectations and cultural judgements to the situation, the more it circled back and bit me on the ass. Pardon my french.
India never ceases to push you past your boundaries and beyond until you don't recognize yourself. To resist India is futile and will cause chaffing, to soften to her is to experience life with true warmth and joy.
Yesterday we made rajma. Rajma is kydney beans curry and Ritu, Nakul's sister in law, makes the best rajma. She has taken me under her wing and I am so grateful. She is patient and helpful and compassionate with the Canadian girl who knows hardly anything and except for knowing a few spice names, doesn't speak Hindi... yet. Ritu speaks enough English that we get by, with giggles, and she is fast becoming my best friend. She never ceases to amaze me with her gentleness and understanding of a situation. Slowly we are learning who eachother is as we watch eachother, and I think our love for eachother continues growing each day.
The food is amazing. Being in an Indian kitchen and seeing how it all goes down is like... wow! I can't even tell you the things we do in there. Making indian food is such a sophisticated process compared to any other kind of food i have ever made. Each dish is like a magical potion being brewed to seduce its consumer.
I will write more on this later.
and more on everything later. There is so much, but the power just went out so i need to go.
love to all
ang
It is amazing to me that I can get internet, from the comfort of my bed, on my own laptop hoooked up to Nakul's cel phone, in the middle of northern India. What kind of crazy technology is that. I can even skype. wow.
It has been an interesting journey over the last week. Air China lost our luggage as most of you have already heard. So I am living with even less than I usually do. It is a little annoying. Mostly because i had two kinds of shortbread I had made tucked away in there. Funny how out of all the things in that bag, the shortbread is the one I am most missing.
Losing my baggage has turned out to be symbolic of me losing my cultural baggage as well. I recognize that a person's culture and socialization is what we use to get by in our worlds. Its what we use to survive in our worlds. And when you go to another world, that whole set of rules changes, completely. Values change, priorities change, everything changes.
My mom's friend Debra is in Calcutta. She is on a Christian mission trip and has been there for the past 6 months, never having been to India before. She is wearing a sari and learning Bengali (coincidentally the mother tongue of Nakul's family) and undergoing tremendous transformation from what i hear.
apparently culture shock can come in levels and layers, like an onion. Each translucent layer peeling off one by one.
I'm not gonna say this past week has been easy. The more i tried to apply my expectations and cultural judgements to the situation, the more it circled back and bit me on the ass. Pardon my french.
India never ceases to push you past your boundaries and beyond until you don't recognize yourself. To resist India is futile and will cause chaffing, to soften to her is to experience life with true warmth and joy.
Yesterday we made rajma. Rajma is kydney beans curry and Ritu, Nakul's sister in law, makes the best rajma. She has taken me under her wing and I am so grateful. She is patient and helpful and compassionate with the Canadian girl who knows hardly anything and except for knowing a few spice names, doesn't speak Hindi... yet. Ritu speaks enough English that we get by, with giggles, and she is fast becoming my best friend. She never ceases to amaze me with her gentleness and understanding of a situation. Slowly we are learning who eachother is as we watch eachother, and I think our love for eachother continues growing each day.
The food is amazing. Being in an Indian kitchen and seeing how it all goes down is like... wow! I can't even tell you the things we do in there. Making indian food is such a sophisticated process compared to any other kind of food i have ever made. Each dish is like a magical potion being brewed to seduce its consumer.
I will write more on this later.
and more on everything later. There is so much, but the power just went out so i need to go.
love to all
ang
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