Oh, India

Tonight on the bus back from celebrating Easter with friends an old auntie started yelling at me as I was getting pushed into her while people were getting off the bus.  Baffled by this absurdity, I responded in my sweetest Southern twang, "Well, I'm tryin' honey." -- not all composure has left me yet.

Also, this conversation from last Thursday basically walks you through "a day in the life":   me: yeah, so when i was walking to the my choices office, the project manager stopped to ask me if i needed a lift on his scooter.  barely looking at him, i said no and did the hand-headbobble motion at himthen i realized as he drove off who it was.

  i feel awful

Yasmin: lolz

  did you see him at the office?

 me: yes, and i tried to explain and i apologized a lot.

  i don't think he quite understood..

i know he def didn't understand why i would be walking the 30 minutes from charminar to falaknuma anyway

Yasmin: oh man

  whatever

  what are you going to dojess did that to someone last year

  I remember her telling me

  / I would have done that too

 me: nothing, it's done.

  i just have the terrible habit of ignoring everyone when i walk down the street.

Yasmin: as you probably should

 ---several hours later---  me: oh man, this guy was just sitting in the ccd near charminar on his cell yelling out the window at his friends on charminar Yasmin: haha that was like that one time we were up at the top waving down to you and hannah

 me: only, there is no way his friends could hear him

  and. he was on the phone with them. why the yelling?

 Yasmin: it's like the man who ran after the bus at the airport

  nothing makes sense

 me: this is india.

 Yasmin: how would you describe milaap - right now i'm at 'a crowdfunding microlending organization'

 me: yes. like that

 Yasmin: also i think it's hilarious you blew someone off like that today

  almost as hilarious as hannah making a three year old cry

 me: you are so supportive as a friend

 Yasmin: it's funny

 me: fine. ok

  it's not funny.. blood.

  :)

5 minutes

 me: also. this child just looked at me and opened his mouth to show me his gum and then went back to what he was doing.. geesh. what a day.

 Yasmin: It's not funneeeeeeeeeeeee

 me: haha.

Yasmin: we'll miss this

 me: truths

Yasmin: also i'm trying to teach this three year old how to high five while i'm sitting here

 Yasmin: she's doesn't get it

 me: lol

Oh, India.

Happy Easter! And in case you missed the Facebook picture extravaganza, here are a few pics from Holi, which is a festival that (from what I can tell) is about celebrating spring and maybe just life generally.  Anyway, it's the most colorful, messy, fun, photo-worthy festival of all. And it makes 50 year old men act like children again.

Pain is there.

This hurts my soul:

I had written a 500-word essay on why it is so painful (a cooking school that teaches microwaving, the Westernization of things, the lost art of cooking, the lack of nutrition, the idea that cakes can be baked in a microwave...), but then I realized that no one else cares as much as I do.

But still, teaching people how to use a microwave.. and making people pay for that lesson.. that is obviously exploitation.

Pain is there.

Food Porn

The countdown to returning to the U.S. is happening.  This brings with it a lot of mixed emotions.  For instance, I will absolutely miss 30 rupee dosa, and biryani and ramali roti, and aloo palak, and chilly everything.  But at the same time, I am having day dreams about all the things I will eat back in the States.

The reason why I wasn’t paying attention

whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com

Warning: Lewd and excessive salivation may occur upon reading this post. 

First, there are a few things you should know about Indian food.  One is that it’s not all spicy.  Another is that most of it is – the best of it is.  The last is that the best of the best food gets spicier as you continue to eat it.  (There’s usually a cooling yogurt sauce to help ease the heat sensation.)  
 

Here’s an update on the foods I’ve been enjoying:

Biryani and dosa are weekly staples. 

Aloo anything is a favorite.  Curried potatoes are amazing, y’all.

During Ramzan, I tried haleem (pictured here).   Haleem – roasted mutton (or chicken) spiced with cloves, pepper, cumin, allspice, and other spices, ground into a paste and dowsed with ghee – is tastier than it looks.  It is actually reminiscent of pate, except a serving is an entire bowlful.  Give me a cracker or two with a little smear of haleem and I can handle it.  A bowlful? No thank you.  (Also, look out for the bones.)

Haleem

Naan, naan, naan, naan, naan, naan – yum! I can’t get over it.

Coffee with a scoop of ice cream ? Ok!

Street food. It typically involves frying and chillies.

Dal (aka lentils) – for the protein and the fact that you don’t have to remember to soak them overnight, they are perfect.

My new favorite snack: cucumbers sliced like pickles and sprinkled with salt and cayenne pepper.  (I splash them with a little vinegar too, but that’s not how they are served on the streets.)

Given all that deliciousness, it's all Indian food, isn't it? You miss true variety sometimes.  Your mind wanders. 

Meals I plan to have when I return to the U.S.:

• Macaroni and cheese (made with real, sharp, white cheddar)
• Bagels with cream cheese and coffee
• Salad with fresh mixed greens
• Wine (What? That’s not a meal, you say? I beg to differ.)
• A cheese plate with fruit and crusty bread (This, I guess, could be the side dish for the wine…)
• Ice cream
• Broccoli: Pasta with broccoli and olives or maybe this 
• Celery: in soup, or salad, or cornbread dressing, or with peanut butter
• Greens, cornbread, and stewed tomatoes
• Queso, salsa, and tortilla chips
• Quesadillas
• Fajitas
• Burritos… Mexican food, you get the point, right?
• Pesto… all kinds of pesto…
• Blueberries.. probably in some pancakes.. with real maple syrup.. and freshly whipped cream.. and chocolate sauce (Overboard, much?)
• A baked potato (with cheese and sour cream and broccoli)
• Roasted vegetables (with a balsamic vinegar reduction, or parmesan cheese, or both?)
• Cake that hasn’t been soaked in sugar water… with cream cheese frosting… carrot cake? Or this chocolate cake?
• Risotto with asparagus 

…And basically every.single.one.of.these.  And these.  And more cheese.  And wine, don’t forget the wine, please.

But the very first thing that I plan to bake and eat in mass quantities is this.

(Place holder)

I will post something real again soon. But for now, I've got this song on repeat.

Oh, India.

I was going to offer you another "come on, India" post, but quite frankly this one sums it up pretty perfectly:

http://kolkatakat.blogspot.in/2010/07/how-to-survive-india.html
 
#14 is so especially true.

Until next week, some recent monkey pictures..

(Don't) Smile like you mean it

Europeans have a tendency to tell Americans that we smile too much.  And if the average American smiles too much, a person from the American South smiles entirely too much. 

When I was working in the U.S., a non-Southern colleague of mine once asked me, “Amber, every time I see you, you are smiling.  Why are you always smiling so much?” I of course answered, “I’m from Georgia.  I’m pretty sure it’s a law.”

http://thestudyabroadlife.tumblr.com

And well, if in Europe people think Americans are insincere because of their smile, in India people just think it’s simply bizarre and entertaining.  

Hailing from a place where you not only smile at people that you pass on the street but also ask strangers how they are doing, not smiling here in India was a survival skill I toiled to master.

In the first few weeks, I consciously reminded myself not to smile at passersby who already thought that I was crazy simply because I did things like wait in lines and use forks.  I quickly learned that I did not want to call any extra attention to myself and learned how to walk - head forward, aware but not surveying, confident, straight-faced:

Except for the occasional chats with adorable piglets (or monkeys or dogs) and a stray smile at a cute kid, I have become pretty good at this whole restrained-emotions-in-public thing.

However, every once in a while I will forget, just for a moment, where I am.  I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll smile at someone… and then immediately realize and regret that I did so.  Usually, I can just keep walking, avoid the staring, and ignore the guy who thought that that was somehow an invitation to walk me home – oops. 

I dare you not to smile.

But once, it nearly cost me my life… ok, fine – it nearly cost me a concussion, anyway:

Several months ago, I was walking home from work and I passed by a man who just seemed perfect. 

He was a smallish, older man who had a fantastical-curled mustache and beard, bright eyes, and a cheerful aura – he was the type of person you simply want to offer a more-than-genuine smile to. 

And I did.

And he, in bewildered and delighted response, spun toward me as I continued to pass by and offered an exuberant, “Hello Madam!”

The other “perfect” thing about this man, though, was that he was standing effortlessly with a long steel bar on his shoulders.   As he swung around, forgetting his load in his excitement, the steel bar came directly at my head and I had to duck to avoid being hit like a Looney Tunes character.

Word to the wise – keep that neutral face on in the streets of India.

Another Indian Life Lesson, I suppose: We Americans do smile too much; it can clearly be a hazard to our lives.

Even still, it was a pretty perfect moment. Kind of like this one:

Oh, India.

Your weekly dose of, "wait, wha.. huh?"

Beer for men:

For real men only.. you know, the ones who want to get knock-out drunk.

Oh, India.

Exotic fruit

The other day I splurged on pears and cranberry juice... because red bartlett pears and cranberries are exotic in India.

I felt a little bad about it. 

But then I realized the Real cranberry juice wasn't quite as real as I would normally expect, and felt a little better somehow.

This is the exciting story of my life this week.  Tell me about yours next time we chat.

Oh, India.

This may become a short series from here on out:

Images that illicit the response, "Oh, India":  Things that are so representatively India that little more needs to be said about them.

Example:

When they were putting a fresh coat of paint on our apartment building, someone decided that taking down the taped up advert for an apartment for rent would be inefficient. Thus, simply paint over it . . . 

Jugaad that.

Oh, India.