Every time I go to a country for any reason, I make sure to purchase or otherwise obtain that country’s national flag. So far, I’ve gotten every one, and sometimes I even get a good story to go with it. Like the Croatian flag mailed to my house in the U.S. by a hostel owner, or the Austrian flag that I used Spanish to purchase, or the Tibetan flag, which isn’t technically a separate country that I visited, but close enough to count. All flags were relatively simple to find. However, Indian’s flag proved difficult to obtain.
It’s been nearly six months since I arrived in India for the first time. In fact, by the time I fly out of India on Wednesday, 14 July, it will have been exactly one day short of a six month stay, because I have six month validity on my visa and purchased my plane ticket for the day before it expires. I remember on day two or three, when I was with Atul in the Jaipur market, I told him that I absolutely needed to find a flag before I left. He told me that it would be difficult to obtain, as Indians don’t usually display a large version of their national flag in their homes. It’s not exactly forbidden, as tiny versions of the flags are widely available, but the large ones (which are a must for my collection) are usually handmade and for government use only. That’s not to say that they’re completely unavailable, but it would definitely be tricky.
I even remember Atul said that it might not be possible, and that I should just go to a tailor and hire him to sew together green, white and saffron cloths. Not quite the same, don’t you agree?
Today, I finally got a flag from Mr. Rana, the foreman for KLB’s new building that’s still under construction. I guess he knew a guy who knew a guy who had some government contact, and I only was able to find this out last month. Even then, it took a month to get the flag. I was a little worried, but the delivery made up for it. So far, every flag that I’ve purchased cost me 20-30 USD, varying a few dollars either way depending on the currency. It was about 5000 forints in Hungary, 18 Euros in Austria, 15 pounds in the UK, 150 Kuna in Croatia… you get the idea. In addition, all of the flags have been roughly the same quality: nylon or some other synthetic material. Since these are the type of flags commonly available in each country, I had no problem with it.
My Indian flag surprisingly broke the mold. It was handmade cotton, very thick and durable, very heavy for its size. I could hang it outside for ten years without much change in quality. It was also 600 rupees, which translates to no more than 13 USD; half the price of my normal flags. Quite the deal, if I do say so.
I finally have my flag. And I leave India in five days. This is as much of a reflection as you get from this blog. I know I haven’t written in awhile, and I may have written something along the lines of me being less and less culturally surprised by India and therefore not having as much writing fodder for a cultural blog. Does that mean that I’m now, after six months, completely acclimated to the Indian culture?
Not. Even. Close.
I’ve written about a hundred posts on this blog, and while I will definitely relish the opportunity in later years to go back and read everything that I’ve written, now doesn’t quite seem a right time for it. Mostly because that’s a lot of writing that will take way too long. Besides, every day feels like a reflection to me. Every day I have to use the cultural and practical knowledge that I’ve learned here to survive in this dynamic environment. I can’t say how I’ve changed, but I have. I know that for sure.
Therefore, instead of me offering a reflection, I’d like to hear your side. You’ve read this blog. You’ve gotten to know me, if you haven’t already. I’ll be seeing some of you very soon when I get back from Europe next month. So you tell me, how have I changed? I’d like to hear it. I have my ideas, but I can’t be sure until I get back into a more familiar cultural environment for an accurate comparison.
My Indian adventure is wrapping up. I’m leaving soon. I got a flag today, and now I can leave happy. Thank you, India. It’s been a hell of a ride.
Namaste.
09 July 2010
15 June 2010
Jackpot!
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. I hate math. I really really don’t like it at all. I carry around a calculator whenever possible. It’s not good. However, the one area in which I’m fairly competent in it is food, of course. Whether it’s converting a recipe from imperial to metric or figuring out how much of what ingredients to buy at whatever cost, it’s the one area where I actually enjoy a little bit of math. It makes the world feel a bit more orderly.
Which is why I was so excited with the little bit of spice pricing that I did this week. Did you know that 86% of the world’s spices are grown in India? That’s a lot. Because so many of them grow here, they’re very cheap. In the states, if you want good spices, you either have to go to a well-reputed spice shop and sift through the hundreds of pre-ground mixes or go online. With the first option, you’re likely to buy something you don’t need. With the second, it’s hard to tell what’s good, because you can’t see it. Penzey’s is one place you can go, and I like it, but still, I wish there was a better, cheaper way to get spices.
I thought that India might have the answer, so I made a list of spices that I would want to purchase and use back in the states. I went online to three different distributors to find the price for a half kilo of each of these spices. I also went to the website for the Indian post to see how much it would cost to mail a heavy package to the states. After converting my findings to rupees, I went to a good spice store here to see how the prices would compare. Before all of that, of course, I made sure to check out the U.S. Customs and Border Patrol regulations on mailing spices into the states, and they have no problem with it.
Here’s what I found. Make fun of the table if you want, but I’m okay with being a nerd.
Score! That’s a huge savings. At worst, spice here cost a third of what they do in the states. At best, a sixth. Some spices, like black cardamom and cloves, aren’t very common in Indian cuisine or are rare, so they’re more expensive than the rest, but that’s still all relative and much cheaper than their American prices. I wanted to get a lot of everything, which is okay in terms of freshness, because whole spices will last two years if kept dry, cool and away from light. I can even get whole turmeric, which is, impossible to find in the U.S., and Kashmiri saffron, which is incredibly hard to find even when you look online.
Now, for shipping. One can go to the Indian Post website and enter all the information about a hypothetical package they want to send, and they can find the cost of mailing it to whatever country. For a 5-6 kg package, which is how much this will weigh, it will cost about 2500 rupees to mail it to the states. Add that to about another 2500 rupees for the spices (rounding up), and it will still cost about 1500 less than the lowest estimate for buying in the states. If I go for the high estimate, it will cost 8000 less.
For those of you who want it in good ol’ American cash money, one dollar is 46.6 rupees as of today.
So, you tell me. Is it worth it?
Which is why I was so excited with the little bit of spice pricing that I did this week. Did you know that 86% of the world’s spices are grown in India? That’s a lot. Because so many of them grow here, they’re very cheap. In the states, if you want good spices, you either have to go to a well-reputed spice shop and sift through the hundreds of pre-ground mixes or go online. With the first option, you’re likely to buy something you don’t need. With the second, it’s hard to tell what’s good, because you can’t see it. Penzey’s is one place you can go, and I like it, but still, I wish there was a better, cheaper way to get spices.
I thought that India might have the answer, so I made a list of spices that I would want to purchase and use back in the states. I went online to three different distributors to find the price for a half kilo of each of these spices. I also went to the website for the Indian post to see how much it would cost to mail a heavy package to the states. After converting my findings to rupees, I went to a good spice store here to see how the prices would compare. Before all of that, of course, I made sure to check out the U.S. Customs and Border Patrol regulations on mailing spices into the states, and they have no problem with it.
Here’s what I found. Make fun of the table if you want, but I’m okay with being a nerd.
| Spice | Approx U.S. cost (rupees) | Approx India cost (rupees) |
| Cinnamon (Dalchini) – 500 g | 400-700 | 110 |
| Black Cardamom (Bari Elaichi) – 500 g | 800-1300 | 550 |
| Cumin (Jeera) – 500 g | 550 | 200 |
| Ajwain – 500 g | 360-850 | 140 |
| Fennel (Saunf)– 500 g | 360-550 | 95 |
| Coriander (Dhania) – 500 g | 360-400 | 65 |
| Turmeric (Haldi) – 500 g | 400-600 | 120 |
| Fenugreek seeds (Methi Daane) – 500 g | 275-550 | 38 |
| Cloves (Laung) – 500 g | 950-110 | 250 |
| Anise (Choti Saunf) – 500 g | 550-600 | 115 |
| Star Anise (Chakraphool) – 500 g | 750-1200 | 150 |
| Nutmeg (Jaifal) – 20 pods | 350-600 | 70 |
| Saffron (Kesar) – 1g | 500-800 | 225 |
| Total | 6605-12970 | 2128 |
Score! That’s a huge savings. At worst, spice here cost a third of what they do in the states. At best, a sixth. Some spices, like black cardamom and cloves, aren’t very common in Indian cuisine or are rare, so they’re more expensive than the rest, but that’s still all relative and much cheaper than their American prices. I wanted to get a lot of everything, which is okay in terms of freshness, because whole spices will last two years if kept dry, cool and away from light. I can even get whole turmeric, which is, impossible to find in the U.S., and Kashmiri saffron, which is incredibly hard to find even when you look online.
Now, for shipping. One can go to the Indian Post website and enter all the information about a hypothetical package they want to send, and they can find the cost of mailing it to whatever country. For a 5-6 kg package, which is how much this will weigh, it will cost about 2500 rupees to mail it to the states. Add that to about another 2500 rupees for the spices (rounding up), and it will still cost about 1500 less than the lowest estimate for buying in the states. If I go for the high estimate, it will cost 8000 less.
For those of you who want it in good ol’ American cash money, one dollar is 46.6 rupees as of today.
So, you tell me. Is it worth it?
08 June 2010
Indra's Arrows
If you’re reading this blog, you probably know me. You probably also know that I’m not a very sentimental person. Furthermore, you’ll probably hate me a little for not taking a camera to India. Yeah, yeah, I know, it seems inconceivable that I would travel to a different country and not have a camera. Pictures just aren’t important to me. Memories, more so. I hope that my friends and family can understand that.
Today was one of those days where everybody I know wishes I had a camera here. It started by raining last night and continuing throughout the day. All day. No stopping. Monsoon is coming, everybody! Today, there wasn’t a lot of rain, but it just went on forever. It was impossible to get dry. By about 4 in the afternoon, the rain let up as the other Americans and I walked home from the college.
One of the MSU students, Liz, excitedly called us all up to the balcony. It was awesome. The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the receding rain clouds. I wrote about a similar topic a few months ago, but today was different. Twelve hours of rain did wonders to Palampur’s panorama. The mountains displayed a fresh coat of perfectly white snow in the distance, and the nearby hills were an incredibly deep shade of green. The sun wasn’t too bright, but somehow that made the contrast even more visible. To compliment the colors on the environment, there were two – count ‘em, two – gorgeous rainbows opposite to the setting sun. The Hindi word for it is indradhanush. Indra is the rain god, and dhanush means “arrow.” Cool!
I’ve never seen rainbows so bright. I’ve never seen so much deep color. Wade was napping, but I went down and gently woke him up. In response to his grumbles, I said that the sky, hills and mountains were clearer than I’ve seen them in the 5 months that I’ve been here. That got him up, reluctantly. He wasn’t happy about me interrupting his beauty sleep, but at least he got to see the gorgeous landscape. Too bad he’s colorblind. Sorry, Wade!
I bet you’re wondering if I wish I had a camera now. Well… no. Sorry. I still like my memories. However, if you’re lucky, you might be able to see some later on Wade’s blog at wadeji.tumblr.com.
Today was one of those days where everybody I know wishes I had a camera here. It started by raining last night and continuing throughout the day. All day. No stopping. Monsoon is coming, everybody! Today, there wasn’t a lot of rain, but it just went on forever. It was impossible to get dry. By about 4 in the afternoon, the rain let up as the other Americans and I walked home from the college.
One of the MSU students, Liz, excitedly called us all up to the balcony. It was awesome. The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the receding rain clouds. I wrote about a similar topic a few months ago, but today was different. Twelve hours of rain did wonders to Palampur’s panorama. The mountains displayed a fresh coat of perfectly white snow in the distance, and the nearby hills were an incredibly deep shade of green. The sun wasn’t too bright, but somehow that made the contrast even more visible. To compliment the colors on the environment, there were two – count ‘em, two – gorgeous rainbows opposite to the setting sun. The Hindi word for it is indradhanush. Indra is the rain god, and dhanush means “arrow.” Cool!
I’ve never seen rainbows so bright. I’ve never seen so much deep color. Wade was napping, but I went down and gently woke him up. In response to his grumbles, I said that the sky, hills and mountains were clearer than I’ve seen them in the 5 months that I’ve been here. That got him up, reluctantly. He wasn’t happy about me interrupting his beauty sleep, but at least he got to see the gorgeous landscape. Too bad he’s colorblind. Sorry, Wade!
I bet you’re wondering if I wish I had a camera now. Well… no. Sorry. I still like my memories. However, if you’re lucky, you might be able to see some later on Wade’s blog at wadeji.tumblr.com.
01 June 2010
The Great Wall of Rice
Today, I won’t be writing about just India. This post is about food and culture, so it’s still sticking to the main theme somewhat. It just happens to be about food and culture in a different country, inspired by a morning article in the Times of India. It also has to do with rice, which is a huge staple not only in India, but in the rest of the world.
Consider the Great Wall of China. It has been around for about 1500 years, and it doesn’t look a day older than 500. Other monuments built in that era in different parts of the world have long since been turned to dust and ash, yet the Great Wall still stands. Now, scientists from Zhejiang University in China have completed a study that explains one of the main factors contributing to the wall’s longevity. Turns out, it’s food. Rice, to be exact.
(Warning: Nerdy scientific explanation about food that you’ll never really need to know alert!)
There are three main kinds of rice: short, medium and long grain. In addition to describing the shape of rice relative to other grains, the distinctions also describe the presence and ratio of the two main starches that make up a grain of rice. These are amylose and amylopectin, which do different jobs. Amylose is a relatively short, simple molecule that can cause gelling, but is soluble in liquid. Amylopectin is long and highly branched, does not dissolve in liquids, and makes grains of rice stick to each other and liquids to gel more efficiently than amylose.
Long-grain rice, like basmati nd jasmine, contains much more amylose than amylopectin, and when cooked, the amylose available dissolves into the cooking liquid and is drained off. Also, amylose has chemical properties that keep too much water from soaking into the rice and causing the little amylopectin available to stay inside the grains. This causes the rice to separate; individual grains don’t stick together. Long-grain rice is good for making rice as a side dish to soak up a gravy or sauce. It’s the number one kind of rice used in this area of India.
Short-grain rice, like Arborio, contains a lot of amylopectin and very little amylose. Since the amylopectin is not water-soluble, it remains in the solution and causes liquids to gel up and become very sticky. This kind of rice is used to make paella or risotto, dishes where the rice is cooked in a flavorful liquid to create a sticky, creamy and delicious broth.
Medium grain rice contains roughly equal proportions of amylose and amylopectin, and thus has roughly equal characteristics of short- and long-grain rice. It’s sticky when cooked, but not as much as short-grain rice, and it holds its structure in a dish, but not as much as long-grain rice. This kind of rice is commonly used in sushi or rice soup.
What does all of that have to do with the Great Wall? Turns out that sticky rice soup made from short- to medium-grain rice grown in China was used in the mortar to piece together the wall. This isn’t exactly new information, as historians and archaeologists have known this for years. However, Zhejiang’s recent study has determined why exactly rice was important in the mortar. The amylopectin in the soup helped make the mortar nice and thick, the same way a good risotto dish is thick and creamy. This soup was then mixed with limestone to form the mortar for the bricks. Amylopectin and calcium carbonate from the limestone formed a unique, strong inorganic-organic compounded that was much better than other mortar materials of the day.
Again, this probably isn’t new information, but it was also recently discovered that amylopectin also seems to inhibit the natural crystallization of lime. In normal mortar, the inorganic compound (basically some sort of rock) continues to crystallize and change over hundreds of years, weakening the structure of the building in which it is used. Instead of the mortar eventually forming a big, messy, unstable chunk of calcium carbonate crystal after 1500 years, the microstructure that was originally created held up against weathering and further crystal growth. It’s a much more efficient and long-lasting way to build something, and rice (specifically the amylopectin in rice starches) makes it possible.
Moral of the story: rice is a culturally important food for nearly the whole worlds, so much so that it has several functions outside of its nutritional value. Oh and if you eat rice and limestone every day, you’ll live for 1500 years.
Wait, that’s not right. Kids, don't eat rocks. Unless it's salt, which is technically a rock. But that's another post.
Consider the Great Wall of China. It has been around for about 1500 years, and it doesn’t look a day older than 500. Other monuments built in that era in different parts of the world have long since been turned to dust and ash, yet the Great Wall still stands. Now, scientists from Zhejiang University in China have completed a study that explains one of the main factors contributing to the wall’s longevity. Turns out, it’s food. Rice, to be exact.
(Warning: Nerdy scientific explanation about food that you’ll never really need to know alert!)
There are three main kinds of rice: short, medium and long grain. In addition to describing the shape of rice relative to other grains, the distinctions also describe the presence and ratio of the two main starches that make up a grain of rice. These are amylose and amylopectin, which do different jobs. Amylose is a relatively short, simple molecule that can cause gelling, but is soluble in liquid. Amylopectin is long and highly branched, does not dissolve in liquids, and makes grains of rice stick to each other and liquids to gel more efficiently than amylose.
Long-grain rice, like basmati nd jasmine, contains much more amylose than amylopectin, and when cooked, the amylose available dissolves into the cooking liquid and is drained off. Also, amylose has chemical properties that keep too much water from soaking into the rice and causing the little amylopectin available to stay inside the grains. This causes the rice to separate; individual grains don’t stick together. Long-grain rice is good for making rice as a side dish to soak up a gravy or sauce. It’s the number one kind of rice used in this area of India.
Short-grain rice, like Arborio, contains a lot of amylopectin and very little amylose. Since the amylopectin is not water-soluble, it remains in the solution and causes liquids to gel up and become very sticky. This kind of rice is used to make paella or risotto, dishes where the rice is cooked in a flavorful liquid to create a sticky, creamy and delicious broth.
Medium grain rice contains roughly equal proportions of amylose and amylopectin, and thus has roughly equal characteristics of short- and long-grain rice. It’s sticky when cooked, but not as much as short-grain rice, and it holds its structure in a dish, but not as much as long-grain rice. This kind of rice is commonly used in sushi or rice soup.
What does all of that have to do with the Great Wall? Turns out that sticky rice soup made from short- to medium-grain rice grown in China was used in the mortar to piece together the wall. This isn’t exactly new information, as historians and archaeologists have known this for years. However, Zhejiang’s recent study has determined why exactly rice was important in the mortar. The amylopectin in the soup helped make the mortar nice and thick, the same way a good risotto dish is thick and creamy. This soup was then mixed with limestone to form the mortar for the bricks. Amylopectin and calcium carbonate from the limestone formed a unique, strong inorganic-organic compounded that was much better than other mortar materials of the day.
Again, this probably isn’t new information, but it was also recently discovered that amylopectin also seems to inhibit the natural crystallization of lime. In normal mortar, the inorganic compound (basically some sort of rock) continues to crystallize and change over hundreds of years, weakening the structure of the building in which it is used. Instead of the mortar eventually forming a big, messy, unstable chunk of calcium carbonate crystal after 1500 years, the microstructure that was originally created held up against weathering and further crystal growth. It’s a much more efficient and long-lasting way to build something, and rice (specifically the amylopectin in rice starches) makes it possible.
Moral of the story: rice is a culturally important food for nearly the whole worlds, so much so that it has several functions outside of its nutritional value. Oh and if you eat rice and limestone every day, you’ll live for 1500 years.
Wait, that’s not right. Kids, don't eat rocks. Unless it's salt, which is technically a rock. But that's another post.
30 May 2010
How'd That Get on My Plate?
I’ve often marveled at the ability of Indians in this area to reuse anything and everything. They’ll reuse tea dregs, save plastic bread bags, and conserve aluminum foil by using it more than twice. In fact, their conservation efforts cross international borders. When you go to the market to purchase something, the grocer or shopkeeper will put your items in a paper bag for easy carrying. This paper bag is always recycled. Sometimes it’s newspaper, sometimes it’s just a plain paper bag, but often times it will be in a bag from another country. The most common ones that I’ve seen are Bud Light Canadian McDonald’s bags. But one bag that made it’s way to our kitchen yesterday really blew my mind.
John, Lakin, Emma and I were playing cards in the evening after dinner when Rajinder came by to drop off some groceries. I waved him in and just told him to drop them off on the counter for me to deal with later, so I didn’t see the packages at first. Rajinder left, and after the game I went into the kitchen to sort out the groceries. One of the purchases was a kilo of yellow split lentils, or moong dal. It was in a sealed, unused plastic bag of Meijer brand pretzels from Grand Rapids, Michigan.
How the hell did that happen? I think the strangest part of this international exchange was that it was a sealed package. As far as I can tell, Meijer had a lot of leftover, unused bags that they had to get rid of. Somehow they made their way to India and Palampur, were used to store fixed amounts of dals, and made it to our house just in time for seven Michigan students to marvel at their presence.
It’s like Palampur was expecting us to come, and sent us a “Welcome to India” message. Cool!
John, Lakin, Emma and I were playing cards in the evening after dinner when Rajinder came by to drop off some groceries. I waved him in and just told him to drop them off on the counter for me to deal with later, so I didn’t see the packages at first. Rajinder left, and after the game I went into the kitchen to sort out the groceries. One of the purchases was a kilo of yellow split lentils, or moong dal. It was in a sealed, unused plastic bag of Meijer brand pretzels from Grand Rapids, Michigan.
How the hell did that happen? I think the strangest part of this international exchange was that it was a sealed package. As far as I can tell, Meijer had a lot of leftover, unused bags that they had to get rid of. Somehow they made their way to India and Palampur, were used to store fixed amounts of dals, and made it to our house just in time for seven Michigan students to marvel at their presence.
It’s like Palampur was expecting us to come, and sent us a “Welcome to India” message. Cool!
28 May 2010
Friends, Americans, Countrymen
I’ve been by myself for so long that I had almost forgotten what other college-age Americans are like. Thankfully, the group of MSU students that has just arrived here reminded me how much fun they can be. They also have revealed to me something about the Hindi that I had been learning, and the seven of us together are learning how to make do with some necessities. It’s been an eventful first few days.
It started with everybody arriving at the house at 6 A.M. on Wednesday, thirsty for chai and desperately needing some hardcore rest after an all-night journey on a train and a bus, as well as a minor ER visit. Lakin apparently got rather sick on the first train ride from Mussoori to Pathankot, and they took him to a local hospital in Pathankot for a little bit of IV rejuvenation. It took a lot out of everybody, and after they had finished their chai, they all took to their respective beds and passed out for at least three hours. Shammi asked me if they would want breakfast at 8:30. Not a chance. Sleep first; food later.
The rest of the day consisted of unpacking and relaxing, with some lunch and dinner involved. This is when I found out that my Hindi learning over the past several months has been a little bit… how shall we say? Biased? Yeah, that’s a good PC word for it. I never took any Hindi classes, so all of the Hindi that I’ve learned has been by ear, from the people around me. I got really good at communicating with them and figuring out their pronunciation, how they use vowels and some common catchphrases.
The other MSU students, on the other hand, spent their first Indian week at a renown language school in Mussoori, learning “standard” Hindi. When they got here, I was using some of the Hindi that I knew to communicate with GSC staff, and also to see how their Hindi was progressing. Apparently, people in this region speak Hindi a little bit differently than in central India, or as compared to “standard” Hindi. Some phrases that I used were completely unintelligible to the other students. I guess that I learned a sort of a “country” dialect of Hindi. It would be like somebody from India travelling to northern U.S. states and saying “How y’all doin’ today, folks?” Yes, my friends, I learned how to speak hick Hindi. But hey, at least the people around here understand me pretty easily. That’s good enough for me.
Their first day here got even more interesting when the water stopped coming into the house around dinnertime. I guess that’s what happens when 7 people try to start living in one place. So no water to clean dishes at dinner (we had to use a bucket), and most of the new arrivals, fresh off a 12-hour journey, were not able to take a shower. Drinking water was limited as well, and all of those restrictions on an unusually hot and muggy day were not really fun. After breakfast, there really was no water at all, so the kitchen’s a mess and can’t be cleaned. I hate a dirty kitchen. Oh, and the main line is out, and it’s a holiday, so the city plumber won’t be coming anytime soon.
The upside of that is that we can’t take showers in the bathroom. Yes, it’s an upside, at least for males, because it only takes five minutes to walk to a gorgeous little set of pools fed by a river coming from the mountains. The water is clear and cool, and it’s a much more relaxing bathing experience than taking a bucket bath in your bathroom. Wade, Atul and I went today, and we certainly will be going back. That is, of course, as long as you’re not afraid of snakes. I saw one running away from us in that pool, but we went upstream just in case.
But of course, the best part of the day was dinner. Sitting down with a bunch of other Americans who have similar backgrounds as me was a truly great experience. After over four months of being alone in many respects, it was great to have some more people to talk to. The fact that I was able to use American English is just a bonus.
It started with everybody arriving at the house at 6 A.M. on Wednesday, thirsty for chai and desperately needing some hardcore rest after an all-night journey on a train and a bus, as well as a minor ER visit. Lakin apparently got rather sick on the first train ride from Mussoori to Pathankot, and they took him to a local hospital in Pathankot for a little bit of IV rejuvenation. It took a lot out of everybody, and after they had finished their chai, they all took to their respective beds and passed out for at least three hours. Shammi asked me if they would want breakfast at 8:30. Not a chance. Sleep first; food later.
The rest of the day consisted of unpacking and relaxing, with some lunch and dinner involved. This is when I found out that my Hindi learning over the past several months has been a little bit… how shall we say? Biased? Yeah, that’s a good PC word for it. I never took any Hindi classes, so all of the Hindi that I’ve learned has been by ear, from the people around me. I got really good at communicating with them and figuring out their pronunciation, how they use vowels and some common catchphrases.
The other MSU students, on the other hand, spent their first Indian week at a renown language school in Mussoori, learning “standard” Hindi. When they got here, I was using some of the Hindi that I knew to communicate with GSC staff, and also to see how their Hindi was progressing. Apparently, people in this region speak Hindi a little bit differently than in central India, or as compared to “standard” Hindi. Some phrases that I used were completely unintelligible to the other students. I guess that I learned a sort of a “country” dialect of Hindi. It would be like somebody from India travelling to northern U.S. states and saying “How y’all doin’ today, folks?” Yes, my friends, I learned how to speak hick Hindi. But hey, at least the people around here understand me pretty easily. That’s good enough for me.
Their first day here got even more interesting when the water stopped coming into the house around dinnertime. I guess that’s what happens when 7 people try to start living in one place. So no water to clean dishes at dinner (we had to use a bucket), and most of the new arrivals, fresh off a 12-hour journey, were not able to take a shower. Drinking water was limited as well, and all of those restrictions on an unusually hot and muggy day were not really fun. After breakfast, there really was no water at all, so the kitchen’s a mess and can’t be cleaned. I hate a dirty kitchen. Oh, and the main line is out, and it’s a holiday, so the city plumber won’t be coming anytime soon.
The upside of that is that we can’t take showers in the bathroom. Yes, it’s an upside, at least for males, because it only takes five minutes to walk to a gorgeous little set of pools fed by a river coming from the mountains. The water is clear and cool, and it’s a much more relaxing bathing experience than taking a bucket bath in your bathroom. Wade, Atul and I went today, and we certainly will be going back. That is, of course, as long as you’re not afraid of snakes. I saw one running away from us in that pool, but we went upstream just in case.
But of course, the best part of the day was dinner. Sitting down with a bunch of other Americans who have similar backgrounds as me was a truly great experience. After over four months of being alone in many respects, it was great to have some more people to talk to. The fact that I was able to use American English is just a bonus.
25 May 2010
Keys to the Kingdom
The biggest problem that we have faced with living and working in the new house is that we only had one key. I needed a key to get in because I live there. Shammi needs a key because he needs to come in to cook when I’m at KLB. Rajinder, another GSC employee, and Atul need a key so that they can let in the plumber, electrician and telephone guy to do work when I’m out. Since I’ve moved in, it’s been a barrage of telephone calls back and forth between four or five people trying to get the key for their own purposes. We needed more keys.
That’s easier said than done. Principal Ramdev has been trying to help me out by finding a guy who can copy keys, but we keep running into roadblocks. For example, one guy that we went to said that he only will copy keys if we can also bring him the lock, so he knows that he’s not making a key so that somebody can steal something. We didn’t want to remove the locking mechanism from the door and drive it across town, so that was not really a good option. Also, since other people keep using the key, I can’t take it to get copied.
On Saturday, I finally got a day when no people were coming in to do work on the house. Principal Ramdev and I drove to a locksmith that his friend knew. We met a small Sikh man whose name I never got that agreed to make some copies of the key. He gathered his equipment and we drove him to the house.
That’s when the magic happened. All this guy had with him was a small toolbox with several rough-edged files and blank keys. He took a look at my key, then proceeded to make four copies of it while we watched. By hand. This guy was good. For one copy, he didn’t even use a blank. He just happened to have several spare keys that weren’t being used anymore, and he used one that was similar to mine and filed it down until it fit the lock. Again, by hand. The most impressive part was that the copies actually worked better and turned the lock more smoothly than the original. I was extremely impressed.
Yet not all home improvement projects work that way in India. Just take the example of the electrician who came in on Sunday to do a 10-minute fix of one of the outlets. As soon as he got here, the power went out and stayed that way. Kudos to him for staying as long as he did, nearly three hours, just waiting for the power to come back on. In a different way, I was again extremely impressed.
That’s easier said than done. Principal Ramdev has been trying to help me out by finding a guy who can copy keys, but we keep running into roadblocks. For example, one guy that we went to said that he only will copy keys if we can also bring him the lock, so he knows that he’s not making a key so that somebody can steal something. We didn’t want to remove the locking mechanism from the door and drive it across town, so that was not really a good option. Also, since other people keep using the key, I can’t take it to get copied.
On Saturday, I finally got a day when no people were coming in to do work on the house. Principal Ramdev and I drove to a locksmith that his friend knew. We met a small Sikh man whose name I never got that agreed to make some copies of the key. He gathered his equipment and we drove him to the house.
That’s when the magic happened. All this guy had with him was a small toolbox with several rough-edged files and blank keys. He took a look at my key, then proceeded to make four copies of it while we watched. By hand. This guy was good. For one copy, he didn’t even use a blank. He just happened to have several spare keys that weren’t being used anymore, and he used one that was similar to mine and filed it down until it fit the lock. Again, by hand. The most impressive part was that the copies actually worked better and turned the lock more smoothly than the original. I was extremely impressed.
Yet not all home improvement projects work that way in India. Just take the example of the electrician who came in on Sunday to do a 10-minute fix of one of the outlets. As soon as he got here, the power went out and stayed that way. Kudos to him for staying as long as he did, nearly three hours, just waiting for the power to come back on. In a different way, I was again extremely impressed.
18 May 2010
A Day in Amritsar, and Bollywood Déjà Vu
That’s true, it was only one day. I know I was gone for three days, but Saturday and Monday consisted entirely of traveling on a hot, crowded, smelly, dirty and noisy bus. Two buses, actually. Traveling in India is definitely not one of my favorite things to do. In the beginning, when I first arrived, it was nice to look out the window and see something completely different, but it has since become commonplace, and I was confined to a twice-read book and sparse conversation with Kulwinder Paul, my traveling companion, to keep me company. Could have been better. Could have been worse, much worse, but also could have been better.
At least the food was pretty good. Actually, the best thing I ate all weekend was in Pathankot on Saturday, where we changed buses and had lunch. Shahi paneer was a fantastic dish consisting of a lot of paneer in a slightly sweet, creamy, cinnamon-and-cumin sauce, eaten with some of the best naan I have had in India so far. There were definitely worse ways that this trip could have started. Seriously, this one dish was one of the highlights of my entire time in India. It was that good.
Arriving in Amritsar, I was confronted with something that I have not experienced in quite some time: city life. It hits you in the face like a ton of bricks, and in India, it seems to come out of nowhere. One moment, the bus was surrounded by empty fields (the wheat harvest had been wrapping up these past couple of weeks), and the next, our bus was snaking and sneaking through an overwhelming traffic jam of cars, rickshaws, fruit carts and everything-wallahs. I’ve been in several different big cities on several continents, and there are a few things in which they all partake, at least to some extent: noise, filth, excitement, speed, beggars, business, money… the list goes on. India, of course, has its little quirks that separate it from others. For example, within five minutes of entering the city, I saw my first elephant since Jaipur. Three seconds later, I saw an elephant take a child-sized dump on the middle of the street for the first time since Jaipur. Gotta love it!
It made me think for a second about what kind of person I am. All my life, I grew up in the sociocultural middle ground of urban development: the quintessential suburbs. I knew of neither rural or city life, yet from talking to people, I learned that in general, there are two kinds of people: city rats and country folk (yes, I just used the word “folk;” get off my back). I never really knew which kind I was, but thanks to my international experiences in the past couple of years, I can now safely say that I am definitely a city guy. I’m not sure why, I just feel right when I’m in one. Even in Amritsar, which didn’t resemble any other big city that I have ever experienced before, at least on the surface, I liked it a lot. It felt right. Don’t get me wrong, I like Palampur, I just prefer cities. I now know that about myself. But in the end, who knows where I will really end up.
Back to Amritsar. My one day in the city started with a quick breakfast at the hostel that consisted of my first real American breakfast in quite some time: corn flakes! Hell yes! I also discovered on that day that Paul is a great traveling companion for me. He wanted to do the things that I wanted to do: walk around aimlessly without any sense of direction, just looking at stuff. He also likes food as much as I do, and I was so happy when he told me that we have to drink lassi, a chilled sweet yoghurt beverage, at least twice so that we can compare. Awesome! I also welcomed as many cold drinks as I could take, as it was quite a hot day. Amritsar is located in the arid plains of North India, not in the mountains like Palampur. Fortunately, the 40 degree Celsius day was a very dry one, and I grew up in Michigan where a hot day is simultaneously so humid that you start to sweat before you even feel hot. After that, Amritsar was easily tolerable.
We spent about an hour at the Golden Temple, which I described in my last post as the center of the Sikh religion. It was a very large marble complex that surrounded a large man-made pool, which then surrounded the Golden Temple itself. Paul and I went in the actual temple, as there was at least a 5-hour wait to get in, due to the massive number of pilgrims who came to worship. In fact, I looked around and determined quite quickly that I was definitely the only white person in sight. Granted, I know it’s not the most well-known Indian monument, but our hostel sheltered at least a dozen Westerners, so I figured that I would at least see a few. Paul and I tried to relax with our feet in the pool, but it was made quite clear to use that it was for religious cleansing only. A guard came by before we had spent ten second in the pool, telling us to get out. Whoops. I’ll be more mindful next time I visit a temple.
And that’s pretty much all there was to it. There’s not much else to see in the city besides the Golden Temple. We walked around a lot, had a decent lunch of food with which I was already familiar, and tried kulfi, a sort of hard ice cream that I wasn’t too fond of. It was a nice day, just not breathtaking. By early evening, we were both completely wiped out and headed back to the hostel to chill out, have some tea and snacks, and kill some brain cells with televised programming. It turned out to be the most interesting part of the day.
Paul was watching a Bollywood flick that was mostly in Hindi while I read a book. I was interested, so I asked what the movie, Partners, was about. He said that it was about a cool guy, played by Salmaan Khan, who is really knowledgeable about women and how he helps a not-so-cool guy hook up with a famous chick, played by the gorgeous Katrina Kaif. Salmaan gives this chubby, socially awkward nerd advice on how to make a good impression with Katrina, but it turns out that Salmaan seems to be losing his mojo with a girl that he is pursing. This girl is a reporter trying to write a story about this “date doctor” in the city, but she doesn’t know that it’s Salmaan.
Hmmm, this sounds familiar…
I looked up from my book for a few scenes, and one was shockingly familiar. I knew it. I knew exactly what was going to happen. The fat guy would try to kiss the girl, but lose the courage and walk off. Then he would stop, turn around, throw his inhaler to the ground, and run back up. But he wouldn’t kiss her. He would just pucker up and wait for Katrina to kiss him back. Then I realized that this was Hitch. It was in Hindi, and it had different actors and a slightly modified storyline, but it was definite Hitch. It was hilarious. Not only did Bollywood rip an idea directly from a popular Hollywood movie, but they didn’t even change the blocking or the script. It was, scene-by-scene and frame-for-frame, the same move that I saw in the states several years ago. Is Bollywood really that unoriginal?
Paul thought it was amusing at first when I narrated the movements and actions that were about to happen in a Hindi movie that I have “never” seen before, but I think he got annoyed when I kept doing it with every scene. I know, I know, I watch too many movies. I’m okay with that.
At least the food was pretty good. Actually, the best thing I ate all weekend was in Pathankot on Saturday, where we changed buses and had lunch. Shahi paneer was a fantastic dish consisting of a lot of paneer in a slightly sweet, creamy, cinnamon-and-cumin sauce, eaten with some of the best naan I have had in India so far. There were definitely worse ways that this trip could have started. Seriously, this one dish was one of the highlights of my entire time in India. It was that good.
Arriving in Amritsar, I was confronted with something that I have not experienced in quite some time: city life. It hits you in the face like a ton of bricks, and in India, it seems to come out of nowhere. One moment, the bus was surrounded by empty fields (the wheat harvest had been wrapping up these past couple of weeks), and the next, our bus was snaking and sneaking through an overwhelming traffic jam of cars, rickshaws, fruit carts and everything-wallahs. I’ve been in several different big cities on several continents, and there are a few things in which they all partake, at least to some extent: noise, filth, excitement, speed, beggars, business, money… the list goes on. India, of course, has its little quirks that separate it from others. For example, within five minutes of entering the city, I saw my first elephant since Jaipur. Three seconds later, I saw an elephant take a child-sized dump on the middle of the street for the first time since Jaipur. Gotta love it!
It made me think for a second about what kind of person I am. All my life, I grew up in the sociocultural middle ground of urban development: the quintessential suburbs. I knew of neither rural or city life, yet from talking to people, I learned that in general, there are two kinds of people: city rats and country folk (yes, I just used the word “folk;” get off my back). I never really knew which kind I was, but thanks to my international experiences in the past couple of years, I can now safely say that I am definitely a city guy. I’m not sure why, I just feel right when I’m in one. Even in Amritsar, which didn’t resemble any other big city that I have ever experienced before, at least on the surface, I liked it a lot. It felt right. Don’t get me wrong, I like Palampur, I just prefer cities. I now know that about myself. But in the end, who knows where I will really end up.
Back to Amritsar. My one day in the city started with a quick breakfast at the hostel that consisted of my first real American breakfast in quite some time: corn flakes! Hell yes! I also discovered on that day that Paul is a great traveling companion for me. He wanted to do the things that I wanted to do: walk around aimlessly without any sense of direction, just looking at stuff. He also likes food as much as I do, and I was so happy when he told me that we have to drink lassi, a chilled sweet yoghurt beverage, at least twice so that we can compare. Awesome! I also welcomed as many cold drinks as I could take, as it was quite a hot day. Amritsar is located in the arid plains of North India, not in the mountains like Palampur. Fortunately, the 40 degree Celsius day was a very dry one, and I grew up in Michigan where a hot day is simultaneously so humid that you start to sweat before you even feel hot. After that, Amritsar was easily tolerable.
We spent about an hour at the Golden Temple, which I described in my last post as the center of the Sikh religion. It was a very large marble complex that surrounded a large man-made pool, which then surrounded the Golden Temple itself. Paul and I went in the actual temple, as there was at least a 5-hour wait to get in, due to the massive number of pilgrims who came to worship. In fact, I looked around and determined quite quickly that I was definitely the only white person in sight. Granted, I know it’s not the most well-known Indian monument, but our hostel sheltered at least a dozen Westerners, so I figured that I would at least see a few. Paul and I tried to relax with our feet in the pool, but it was made quite clear to use that it was for religious cleansing only. A guard came by before we had spent ten second in the pool, telling us to get out. Whoops. I’ll be more mindful next time I visit a temple.
And that’s pretty much all there was to it. There’s not much else to see in the city besides the Golden Temple. We walked around a lot, had a decent lunch of food with which I was already familiar, and tried kulfi, a sort of hard ice cream that I wasn’t too fond of. It was a nice day, just not breathtaking. By early evening, we were both completely wiped out and headed back to the hostel to chill out, have some tea and snacks, and kill some brain cells with televised programming. It turned out to be the most interesting part of the day.
Paul was watching a Bollywood flick that was mostly in Hindi while I read a book. I was interested, so I asked what the movie, Partners, was about. He said that it was about a cool guy, played by Salmaan Khan, who is really knowledgeable about women and how he helps a not-so-cool guy hook up with a famous chick, played by the gorgeous Katrina Kaif. Salmaan gives this chubby, socially awkward nerd advice on how to make a good impression with Katrina, but it turns out that Salmaan seems to be losing his mojo with a girl that he is pursing. This girl is a reporter trying to write a story about this “date doctor” in the city, but she doesn’t know that it’s Salmaan.
Hmmm, this sounds familiar…
I looked up from my book for a few scenes, and one was shockingly familiar. I knew it. I knew exactly what was going to happen. The fat guy would try to kiss the girl, but lose the courage and walk off. Then he would stop, turn around, throw his inhaler to the ground, and run back up. But he wouldn’t kiss her. He would just pucker up and wait for Katrina to kiss him back. Then I realized that this was Hitch. It was in Hindi, and it had different actors and a slightly modified storyline, but it was definite Hitch. It was hilarious. Not only did Bollywood rip an idea directly from a popular Hollywood movie, but they didn’t even change the blocking or the script. It was, scene-by-scene and frame-for-frame, the same move that I saw in the states several years ago. Is Bollywood really that unoriginal?
Paul thought it was amusing at first when I narrated the movements and actions that were about to happen in a Hindi movie that I have “never” seen before, but I think he got annoyed when I kept doing it with every scene. I know, I know, I watch too many movies. I’m okay with that.
14 May 2010
And Now for Something Completely Different
Tomorrow, on Saturday morning, I’ll be taking a little trip for a few days. Atul is going to Delhi to pick up the new group at Indira Gandhi International Airport, and while he’s gone, I need something to do while I wait for the others. Why not go to Amritsar?
Located in western Punjab, Amritsar is one of the larger, modern-ish cities in India, with a population of about 1.5 million and boasting nearly 100,000 visitors on any given weekday. What’s so interesting about it that so many people go there? It’s the holy city of the Sikh religion, kind of like the Vatican for Catholics. The Golden Temple is the largest Sikh temple in the world, and all Sikhs see it on television and want to go there. It’s a huge, ornate structure that provides all kinds of religious services that I cannot even begin to understand, but there is one thing that I have heard about it that seems very interesting. It has a community kitchen, where anybody and everybody can go to eat for free. It’s staffed entirely by volunteers. Similar to the way that a Muslim is expected to go on hajj and visit Mecca once in their life, Sikhs are expected to volunteer in the Golden Temple for a week. If you can’t volunteer, or even if you can and want to give something more, they are always accepting food donations. That’s how there are able to feed so many people every single day.
Speaking of food, I’m really looking forward to experiencing a different kind of cuisine in Amritsar. It’s very deep in Punjab, which boasts some of the best food in India, and while there are definite similarities to what I’ve been eating for the past 4 months, it really is a completely different diet. Honestly, I don’t know much about the specific variations or courses to try. I just plan to do what I always do in situations like this: eat first, and ask questions later.
On Saturday morning, I will take a bust from Palampur to Pathankot, about a 4-hour drive, where I will then change buses and travel about 2 more hours to get to Amritsar. I will stay there until Monday morning, and come back along the same route to return to Palampur by Monday afternoon. Look forward to an upcoming blog post about delicious food.
Located in western Punjab, Amritsar is one of the larger, modern-ish cities in India, with a population of about 1.5 million and boasting nearly 100,000 visitors on any given weekday. What’s so interesting about it that so many people go there? It’s the holy city of the Sikh religion, kind of like the Vatican for Catholics. The Golden Temple is the largest Sikh temple in the world, and all Sikhs see it on television and want to go there. It’s a huge, ornate structure that provides all kinds of religious services that I cannot even begin to understand, but there is one thing that I have heard about it that seems very interesting. It has a community kitchen, where anybody and everybody can go to eat for free. It’s staffed entirely by volunteers. Similar to the way that a Muslim is expected to go on hajj and visit Mecca once in their life, Sikhs are expected to volunteer in the Golden Temple for a week. If you can’t volunteer, or even if you can and want to give something more, they are always accepting food donations. That’s how there are able to feed so many people every single day.
Speaking of food, I’m really looking forward to experiencing a different kind of cuisine in Amritsar. It’s very deep in Punjab, which boasts some of the best food in India, and while there are definite similarities to what I’ve been eating for the past 4 months, it really is a completely different diet. Honestly, I don’t know much about the specific variations or courses to try. I just plan to do what I always do in situations like this: eat first, and ask questions later.
On Saturday morning, I will take a bust from Palampur to Pathankot, about a 4-hour drive, where I will then change buses and travel about 2 more hours to get to Amritsar. I will stay there until Monday morning, and come back along the same route to return to Palampur by Monday afternoon. Look forward to an upcoming blog post about delicious food.
13 May 2010
Moving On Up
Sorry for the absence. There just hasn’t been much going on lately, not at KLB or anywhere else in Palampur. At least that’s what it feels like. Exams are wrapping up, so I will be able to start/continue my nutrition lessons soon. On Saturday, the next group of MSU students is arriving in Delhi, but Atul will be going to get them and take them to Mussori for a week or so. I’ll be staying here and getting things ready for their arrival.
That includes preparing the new house, which is now occupied, finally. We moved all of the stuff in yesterday, and that was an interesting experience in itself. There wasn’t much to move, mostly a bunch of miscellaneous kitchen equipment, my luggage and a fridge. Shammi hired a truck (which they call a Jeep) and a guy to help us move, which made me think that he just wanted an extra hand around. Not so. The guy came and moved the fridge (by himself; he was pretty strong for a little guy) and started making rounds from the mud hut to the main road, which was about 100 meters. Again, by himself. Atul, Shammi, his son and I just sat in the main room waiting for him to finish. I was feeling very uncomfortable. Even in the states, when you hire somebody to help you move or do some work, you at least lend a helping hand. Well, maybe that’s not a universal characteristic of U.S. culture, but it was at least the way I was raised. 4 people sitting around and doing nothing while a hired hand does all the work did not sit well with me. I brought this up to Atul, and he begrudgingly agreed that we should help shift. It got done much faster than it would have had only one person done it.
On the way to the new house, we picked up several beds and mattresses that had been purchased earlier. Unloading only took 10-15 minutes, but that’s just where the work begins, as anybody who has ever moved can tell you. It takes awhile to figure out where everything should go, and that only comes with living in the new place for awhile. Call me a nerd, but I get a sick little thrill out of figuring out the most efficient way of organizing the kitchen and putting everything in its place. Hey, at least it’s something to do.
It was a little disappointing to discover that some of the spaces in the wooden closets were rotting and probably a breeding ground for a whole host of bugs, and that the faucet in one of the bathrooms leaks, but it’s still a big step up from the mud hut. There’s no water heater (called a geyser here) yet, but that’s coming within the next couple of days. It’ll take some time to get the whole place up to par and ready to accommodate 6 or more Americans, but it’ll happen. I’ll be doing all of that fun stuff while the 5 other Spartans are in Mussori for their orientation and language courses.
Until they get back, I get the place to myself. Party!!!! Well, not really, but it’ll still be pretty relaxing.
Except for figuring out the light switches. In every Indian house or building that I’ve entered, there is always a smorgasbord of electric switches. At least 5 in each room, and sometimes up to 10. I’m in the main room writing right now, and there are 16 switches and 2 working lights. Why, pray tell, does a house in a rural area of a developing country need so many flippin’ light switches?
That includes preparing the new house, which is now occupied, finally. We moved all of the stuff in yesterday, and that was an interesting experience in itself. There wasn’t much to move, mostly a bunch of miscellaneous kitchen equipment, my luggage and a fridge. Shammi hired a truck (which they call a Jeep) and a guy to help us move, which made me think that he just wanted an extra hand around. Not so. The guy came and moved the fridge (by himself; he was pretty strong for a little guy) and started making rounds from the mud hut to the main road, which was about 100 meters. Again, by himself. Atul, Shammi, his son and I just sat in the main room waiting for him to finish. I was feeling very uncomfortable. Even in the states, when you hire somebody to help you move or do some work, you at least lend a helping hand. Well, maybe that’s not a universal characteristic of U.S. culture, but it was at least the way I was raised. 4 people sitting around and doing nothing while a hired hand does all the work did not sit well with me. I brought this up to Atul, and he begrudgingly agreed that we should help shift. It got done much faster than it would have had only one person done it.
On the way to the new house, we picked up several beds and mattresses that had been purchased earlier. Unloading only took 10-15 minutes, but that’s just where the work begins, as anybody who has ever moved can tell you. It takes awhile to figure out where everything should go, and that only comes with living in the new place for awhile. Call me a nerd, but I get a sick little thrill out of figuring out the most efficient way of organizing the kitchen and putting everything in its place. Hey, at least it’s something to do.
It was a little disappointing to discover that some of the spaces in the wooden closets were rotting and probably a breeding ground for a whole host of bugs, and that the faucet in one of the bathrooms leaks, but it’s still a big step up from the mud hut. There’s no water heater (called a geyser here) yet, but that’s coming within the next couple of days. It’ll take some time to get the whole place up to par and ready to accommodate 6 or more Americans, but it’ll happen. I’ll be doing all of that fun stuff while the 5 other Spartans are in Mussori for their orientation and language courses.
Until they get back, I get the place to myself. Party!!!! Well, not really, but it’ll still be pretty relaxing.
Except for figuring out the light switches. In every Indian house or building that I’ve entered, there is always a smorgasbord of electric switches. At least 5 in each room, and sometimes up to 10. I’m in the main room writing right now, and there are 16 switches and 2 working lights. Why, pray tell, does a house in a rural area of a developing country need so many flippin’ light switches?
04 May 2010
Freshly Shorn
After 3 months, I’m used to having people stare at me, but today, it was for a different reason. Yesterday I got a haircut and had all of my hair shaved off, because that’s the way I normally look when I’m in the states. I like it because it’s clean, cool (as in not too warm), and easy to take care of. I especially like it because I have my own mechanical clippers at home, which means that I never have to shell out 15 bucks for a haircut. Unfortunately, I neglected to bring those clippers to India with me, so I had just been letting my hair grow out. It had gotten a bit too long and messy, so I decided that it was high time to go back to the basics.
The haircut cost 30 rupees (about 75 U.S. cents) and took 5 minutes. During that time, the barber was asking me about the states and why I decided to come to India. I also told him that a haircut in the states costs the equivalent of about 700-800 rupees, and that’s for the cheap one. He couldn’t believe that some rich people would spend upwards of 80, 90, or 100 USD just to get their hair cut.
This morning at KLB, several teachers were asking me if my parents died. Turns out that it is customary for Indian men to shave their heads when a parent passes away. That’s not to say that nobody here has a shaved head just because they like it, but usually those people ask their parents first if it is okay.
Sorry, Mom and Dad, for not asking permission to get my hair cut. But at least be happy to know that there are several people in Palampur who are glad to hear that neither of you have recently died. That’s something, isn’t it?
The haircut cost 30 rupees (about 75 U.S. cents) and took 5 minutes. During that time, the barber was asking me about the states and why I decided to come to India. I also told him that a haircut in the states costs the equivalent of about 700-800 rupees, and that’s for the cheap one. He couldn’t believe that some rich people would spend upwards of 80, 90, or 100 USD just to get their hair cut.
This morning at KLB, several teachers were asking me if my parents died. Turns out that it is customary for Indian men to shave their heads when a parent passes away. That’s not to say that nobody here has a shaved head just because they like it, but usually those people ask their parents first if it is okay.
Sorry, Mom and Dad, for not asking permission to get my hair cut. But at least be happy to know that there are several people in Palampur who are glad to hear that neither of you have recently died. That’s something, isn’t it?
01 May 2010
Indian Vogue
Women around here have a lot of clothes. And I mean a lot. In the states, I’m used to most of the women that I know enjoying lots of different outfits and shopping for clothes. It’s only natural, and I can’t blame them for it. I’m entirely the opposite. I pride myself on having a very plain, basic wardrobe. One time I went to Express and bought a solid black t-shirt. I liked it so much that I went back the next week and bought 5 more. And that’s the way (uh-huh uh-huh) I like it.
I was reminded of the differences between me and the women here when one of the teachers with whom I’m friendly, Monica, walked into the office and we chatted for a short while. Then I realized that I can’t remember her wearing the same outfit more than once. That’s not to say that she never has, but it does mean that she, and many other women that I know here, have so many that they infrequently wear the same thing twice. They really like it. I’m also used to many of the women in my life having 2-3 outfits, t-shirts or bottoms that they really like more than others. They tend to wear them frequently. Again, not the case here.
At least clothes here are really cheap. When Agata came in January, she wanted to get some Indian clothes to fit in better, because while it is perfectly acceptable for men to wear Western clothes here, most women do not. Here, one is able to go to one store, purchase the material that they like, take it to another store for measuring, and pick up a tailor-made outfit the next day. Agata bought two of these outfits, and it cost her less than 1500 rupees (about 30 USD). Quite a steal, and she was even overpaying a bit.
I’m not saying that there aren’t any women like that in the states. In fact, if I grew up in a more “in style” place like New York or Chicago, or if I was of a different temperament and had a different set of friends, I might not even notice the difference. It just seems strange to me for all these people in a relatively poor town, leading very simple lives, to devote a comparatively large percentage of their time and income on clothing. Personally, I think there are better things on which you can spend money.
But I probably have no room to talk, seeing as I’m the guy whose spending money in India mostly goes to buying ingredients to make unusual food for Indians who have never tasted anything like it before. To each their own.
I was reminded of the differences between me and the women here when one of the teachers with whom I’m friendly, Monica, walked into the office and we chatted for a short while. Then I realized that I can’t remember her wearing the same outfit more than once. That’s not to say that she never has, but it does mean that she, and many other women that I know here, have so many that they infrequently wear the same thing twice. They really like it. I’m also used to many of the women in my life having 2-3 outfits, t-shirts or bottoms that they really like more than others. They tend to wear them frequently. Again, not the case here.
At least clothes here are really cheap. When Agata came in January, she wanted to get some Indian clothes to fit in better, because while it is perfectly acceptable for men to wear Western clothes here, most women do not. Here, one is able to go to one store, purchase the material that they like, take it to another store for measuring, and pick up a tailor-made outfit the next day. Agata bought two of these outfits, and it cost her less than 1500 rupees (about 30 USD). Quite a steal, and she was even overpaying a bit.
I’m not saying that there aren’t any women like that in the states. In fact, if I grew up in a more “in style” place like New York or Chicago, or if I was of a different temperament and had a different set of friends, I might not even notice the difference. It just seems strange to me for all these people in a relatively poor town, leading very simple lives, to devote a comparatively large percentage of their time and income on clothing. Personally, I think there are better things on which you can spend money.
But I probably have no room to talk, seeing as I’m the guy whose spending money in India mostly goes to buying ingredients to make unusual food for Indians who have never tasted anything like it before. To each their own.
28 April 2010
Today’s Secret Ingredient is… MANGOES!
I love mangoes. They’re probably the best fruit I have ever eaten. Trouble is, it’s hard to get good ones in the states. Up until a year ago, I had no idea how good mangoes could get. That was before I went to Guatemala for spring break. They were amazing! I had so many that week, and every one was like a piece of soft candy that melts in your mouth (but not in your hand). Returning to the states, I was highly disappointed by the diminished quality of mangoes that were available. It’s just that they have to be transported while they are still under ripe, and they don’t take well to artificial ripening procedures like bananas or some other tropical fruits.
Luckily, India grows mangoes. Granted, they’re grown in the south of the country, but it’s still relatively close. And today, Atul said that he would take me to the market to get some. Yay! Aside from this being the most exciting thing that’s happened in awhile (besides looking at the new house), this is more evidence for the high level of respect for food that is apparent in this area. In America, it’s possible to get any food at any time of the year, regardless of season. Yet to do that, food must be shipped from Chile and New Zealand, and it is never as good as it is when harvested in the appropriate season and shipped a minimum distance.
So instead of going to Meijer for your mangoes, go to South America or India instead. Maybe it’s a little bit more expensive, but it’s much tastier. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s worth it.
Luckily, India grows mangoes. Granted, they’re grown in the south of the country, but it’s still relatively close. And today, Atul said that he would take me to the market to get some. Yay! Aside from this being the most exciting thing that’s happened in awhile (besides looking at the new house), this is more evidence for the high level of respect for food that is apparent in this area. In America, it’s possible to get any food at any time of the year, regardless of season. Yet to do that, food must be shipped from Chile and New Zealand, and it is never as good as it is when harvested in the appropriate season and shipped a minimum distance.
So instead of going to Meijer for your mangoes, go to South America or India instead. Maybe it’s a little bit more expensive, but it’s much tastier. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s worth it.
25 April 2010
A Hindi and a Priest Walk Into a Bar...
Today I have an Indian joke that Ramdev told me. One of the more famous gods in Hinduism is Ganesh or Ganesha, the son of Shiva and Pavarti. He's a chubby guy with and elephant head, and he's kind of like an all-purpose god (according to my ignorant, limited Western understanding of Hinduism). That's because before you start anything, you pray to Ganesha. Ganesha is always portrayed in pictures and statues with a small rat, because that's how he travels around.
Now that you have the context, here's the joke:
Q: Why does Ganesha travel around on a rat?
A: Because there were no limos 5,000 years ago.
HA! That's so funny! I can't stop laughing! It's just... well... okay, maybe it's funnier if you're in India. At least it's not my joke.
Now that you have the context, here's the joke:
Q: Why does Ganesha travel around on a rat?
A: Because there were no limos 5,000 years ago.
HA! That's so funny! I can't stop laughing! It's just... well... okay, maybe it's funnier if you're in India. At least it's not my joke.
23 April 2010
Better Homes and Gardens
Don’t get me wrong, I like living in the mud hut. I really do. It’s kind of rustic, and it’s very easy to keep clean, seeing as the whole house is made of mud anyway. I really feel kind of disconnected from the rest of the world when I’m there, and since that’s one of the reasons why I traveled halfway around the world in the first place, I fit right in. I like a challenge, and I’m the type of person who can tolerate a lot. Yet it’s not the kind of place where you want to squeeze 6 people for an extended period of time. There’s no internet, lousy water pressure, and lots of bugs. There’s just not enough room anyway. That’s why for the past several weeks, Atul and other GSC staff have been locating more suitable accommodations for the summer crew of 5, plus me. We finally found one, and I took a look at it for the first time today.
Man, it’s nice. Although after the mud hut, anything would seem pretty luxurious. Still, it’s really nice. The floors in every room are marble, and so are the countertops in the kitchen. There are plenty of cupboards and closets in all rooms for storing stuff. Two bedrooms and a bathroom attached to each bedroom make it perfect for accommodating both sexes. My favorite part is the huge common room surrounded by full-length windows that let in a ton of natural light. Plus, a big open space with smooth floors just screams “dance floor.” I hope the new students are interested in learning swing dancing.
Right now, it’s being painted, and a little bit of sealant is being added to the moldings. Other than that, the house is in perfect condition, very clean and new. There’s a stairway connecting to the roof, which is huge, so that will be a wonderful place to read a book on a lazy, hot afternoon. Outlets in every room and broadband availability are good things to have for a bunch of laptop-toting college students, and we got ‘em. We even have a shower in one of the bathrooms. How American.
One of the more interesting features is the vegetable storage mini-closet in the kitchen. It’s a cupboard that opens out to the outside and is shielded from the elements by an awning and a screen fence. You can keep leafy vegetables, potatoes, onions, carrots, peas, basically any vegetables in this storage area, and the cool air at night will keep them fresh. No need for crisping drawers in the fridge. It’s a truly ingenious way to take advantage of the conditions around you for your benefit. And it looks really cool.
Next week, the painting and cleaning should be finished, and I’ll be moving in a few days after that. I’ll have a few weeks in there by myself to get used to it and see if anything needs to be added or changed. Trial by error remodeling, I call it. Then, it will be ready for the new group. Now we just need to set up a decent sound system in the main area for the swing dance party. I’ll get started on the proposal.
Man, it’s nice. Although after the mud hut, anything would seem pretty luxurious. Still, it’s really nice. The floors in every room are marble, and so are the countertops in the kitchen. There are plenty of cupboards and closets in all rooms for storing stuff. Two bedrooms and a bathroom attached to each bedroom make it perfect for accommodating both sexes. My favorite part is the huge common room surrounded by full-length windows that let in a ton of natural light. Plus, a big open space with smooth floors just screams “dance floor.” I hope the new students are interested in learning swing dancing.
Right now, it’s being painted, and a little bit of sealant is being added to the moldings. Other than that, the house is in perfect condition, very clean and new. There’s a stairway connecting to the roof, which is huge, so that will be a wonderful place to read a book on a lazy, hot afternoon. Outlets in every room and broadband availability are good things to have for a bunch of laptop-toting college students, and we got ‘em. We even have a shower in one of the bathrooms. How American.
One of the more interesting features is the vegetable storage mini-closet in the kitchen. It’s a cupboard that opens out to the outside and is shielded from the elements by an awning and a screen fence. You can keep leafy vegetables, potatoes, onions, carrots, peas, basically any vegetables in this storage area, and the cool air at night will keep them fresh. No need for crisping drawers in the fridge. It’s a truly ingenious way to take advantage of the conditions around you for your benefit. And it looks really cool.
Next week, the painting and cleaning should be finished, and I’ll be moving in a few days after that. I’ll have a few weeks in there by myself to get used to it and see if anything needs to be added or changed. Trial by error remodeling, I call it. Then, it will be ready for the new group. Now we just need to set up a decent sound system in the main area for the swing dance party. I’ll get started on the proposal.
21 April 2010
I'll Take You to the Candy Shop
I woke up this morning feeling a little tired and a little stressed out for no reason other than I was a little tired. I hate those days, when you feel yourself slipping into the dark recesses of a bad mood for no reason. Why should I feel down? I haven’t a care in the world, and I’m in India. In The Life of Pi by Yann Martel, I discovered a quote that I have come to appreciate greatly: “A stint in India will beat the restlessness out of any living creature.” I can tell you now from experience that truer words have never been said.
I knew that I had to do something quickly to fix my mood. Off to Gobind Sweet Shop!
Indian sweets are interesting. Nothing is baked, of course, and there are so few raw ingredients from which they are made: sugar, ghee, flour, milk and gram flour are the staples. Flavorings come and go at a whim. As a result, much of it tastes similar, and they all share one quality: overwhelming sweetness over richness. It makes sense for a society that doesn’t get a lot of fat infused in their cuisine. It is, however, somewhat disconcerting after awhile to eat so many desserts that have so little soul, and just sweetness. That’s why I actually don’t eat them too much anymore. Today, however, I knew that a bit (or more) of sweet treats would bring me out of this slump.
There are a lot of sweet shops around here, but I like Gobind because it is definitely one of the cleanest. I prefer gulab jamon and patisa. Gulab jamon are small balls made from flour and milk solids that have been fried and then soaked into sugar syrup. They are usually dark in color due to the caramelization of the sugars in the dough, and are normally flavored with rosewater. Patisa are small squares of flaky gram dough flavored with cardamom. When I said flavored with cardamom, I mean that whole cardamom seeds are put into the dough after it has finished cooking. Which means that as a whole, patisa doesn’t taste like cardamom, until you bite into one of the pods and get a huge overwhelming flavor with it. Otherwise, it’s awesome.
Indians in this area like to eat desserts and sweets before meals, not after. Your mother always probably told you not to have a cookie before dinner because it would ruin your appetite. That’s actually the point in Indian cuisine. If you eat sweets before the meal, you won’t eat as much during the main course. Is this a healthier way to eat? Maybe, but if I went to an Indian wedding, I would just stuff myself with sweets before the food was actually served. I know that’s not healthy.
The good news is that as soon as I bit down on a syrupy gulab jamon, I immediately felt better. The bad news is that I know it’ll be some time before I crave some more Indian sweets. Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to go make ice cream.
I knew that I had to do something quickly to fix my mood. Off to Gobind Sweet Shop!
Indian sweets are interesting. Nothing is baked, of course, and there are so few raw ingredients from which they are made: sugar, ghee, flour, milk and gram flour are the staples. Flavorings come and go at a whim. As a result, much of it tastes similar, and they all share one quality: overwhelming sweetness over richness. It makes sense for a society that doesn’t get a lot of fat infused in their cuisine. It is, however, somewhat disconcerting after awhile to eat so many desserts that have so little soul, and just sweetness. That’s why I actually don’t eat them too much anymore. Today, however, I knew that a bit (or more) of sweet treats would bring me out of this slump.
There are a lot of sweet shops around here, but I like Gobind because it is definitely one of the cleanest. I prefer gulab jamon and patisa. Gulab jamon are small balls made from flour and milk solids that have been fried and then soaked into sugar syrup. They are usually dark in color due to the caramelization of the sugars in the dough, and are normally flavored with rosewater. Patisa are small squares of flaky gram dough flavored with cardamom. When I said flavored with cardamom, I mean that whole cardamom seeds are put into the dough after it has finished cooking. Which means that as a whole, patisa doesn’t taste like cardamom, until you bite into one of the pods and get a huge overwhelming flavor with it. Otherwise, it’s awesome.
Indians in this area like to eat desserts and sweets before meals, not after. Your mother always probably told you not to have a cookie before dinner because it would ruin your appetite. That’s actually the point in Indian cuisine. If you eat sweets before the meal, you won’t eat as much during the main course. Is this a healthier way to eat? Maybe, but if I went to an Indian wedding, I would just stuff myself with sweets before the food was actually served. I know that’s not healthy.
The good news is that as soon as I bit down on a syrupy gulab jamon, I immediately felt better. The bad news is that I know it’ll be some time before I crave some more Indian sweets. Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to go make ice cream.
20 April 2010
To Be or Not to Be a Tourist
Four days ago was 16 April. I landed in Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi on 16 January. Which means that I have been in India for officially 3 months. In addition to that, I will leave India on 14 July, a little less than three months ago. Which means that I have reached the halfway point in my Indian adventure. Finally, my thesis and therefore my official internship time, according to MSU, is over. Which means that I will be starting work with GSC and helping out the other 5 MSU students who will be doing summer internships starting at the end of May. Put all of that together, and I know now that I’m not a tourist anymore. I never considered myself one to begin with, but now it’s for sure. I live here.
Which also means that there’s not much to write about. The purpose of writing on this blog is to share cultural learning and societal differences that I experience here. But after three months, there’s not much that surprises me. Even if I do come across a cultural facet that is a little bit interesting and noteworthy, it makes perfect sense in the context of Palampur culture, and it’s not that surprising to me. Because of that, I rarely feel that I should write down my days experience in the blog anymore, because by this point, it’s all business as usual. So, apologies to those who got used to reading something new from me every day (Hi Mom!).
Is that a bad thing? I’m not sure. On one hand, I’ve been here long enough to fit into at least some parts of the culture and I’ve become more comfortable. On the other hand, I’m getting lazy about living here and finding something exciting about everyday life. I was asked if I wanted to go to Amritsar and see the Golden Temple, a beautiful religious monument in Punjab. To be honest, I’m not interested at all. It’s just a temple. If you’ve seen one, you haven’t seen them all, but you might get tired of seeing them. I’d much rather go to Punjab to check out a different cuisine and eat something new and different. That’s my idea of a good trip. Besides, my whole thesis was about gleaning a bit of culture out of local food, and that’s much more fun than a trip to a centuries-old temple.
But fear not, I do have something interesting to write about. Principal Ramdev’s family has opted for an interesting living arrangement. His 16-year-old daughter wants to be an aerospace engineer. The only university in the area to offer a degree in those studies is in Chandigarh. The only way that she will be admitted to that university is if she completes her high school studies from a high school (10+, in the Indian education system) in the same area. As a result, his family decided that his wife and two daughters would move to Chandigarh while he would stay in Palampur and work. For two years. I am very impressed that he and his family would be willing to make such sacrifices so that his daughter can get quality education. In the meantime, I’ve extended a permanent invitation to him to have dinner at the mud hut when he wants. Maybe I will be able to keep his spirits up with a constant supply of American desserts. Heck, it works for me.
Which also means that there’s not much to write about. The purpose of writing on this blog is to share cultural learning and societal differences that I experience here. But after three months, there’s not much that surprises me. Even if I do come across a cultural facet that is a little bit interesting and noteworthy, it makes perfect sense in the context of Palampur culture, and it’s not that surprising to me. Because of that, I rarely feel that I should write down my days experience in the blog anymore, because by this point, it’s all business as usual. So, apologies to those who got used to reading something new from me every day (Hi Mom!).
Is that a bad thing? I’m not sure. On one hand, I’ve been here long enough to fit into at least some parts of the culture and I’ve become more comfortable. On the other hand, I’m getting lazy about living here and finding something exciting about everyday life. I was asked if I wanted to go to Amritsar and see the Golden Temple, a beautiful religious monument in Punjab. To be honest, I’m not interested at all. It’s just a temple. If you’ve seen one, you haven’t seen them all, but you might get tired of seeing them. I’d much rather go to Punjab to check out a different cuisine and eat something new and different. That’s my idea of a good trip. Besides, my whole thesis was about gleaning a bit of culture out of local food, and that’s much more fun than a trip to a centuries-old temple.
But fear not, I do have something interesting to write about. Principal Ramdev’s family has opted for an interesting living arrangement. His 16-year-old daughter wants to be an aerospace engineer. The only university in the area to offer a degree in those studies is in Chandigarh. The only way that she will be admitted to that university is if she completes her high school studies from a high school (10+, in the Indian education system) in the same area. As a result, his family decided that his wife and two daughters would move to Chandigarh while he would stay in Palampur and work. For two years. I am very impressed that he and his family would be willing to make such sacrifices so that his daughter can get quality education. In the meantime, I’ve extended a permanent invitation to him to have dinner at the mud hut when he wants. Maybe I will be able to keep his spirits up with a constant supply of American desserts. Heck, it works for me.
19 April 2010
Maxwell's Silver Knife
The first most useful and important tools in the kitchen are your hands, as long as they’re clean. The second most important tool, without question, is the knife. No tool is as much of a multi-tasker as a good knife, and seldom is a dish made without it. Even if all you eat is microwave dinners, you need something to open up the box, don’t you? The sharper and better knife that you have, the easier and quicker prep work will go. That’s not to say that buying the most expensive knife on the market will turn you into Morimoto. It just means that if you splurge a little on a good quality chef’s knife, take care of it, and spend some time learning how to use it well, your meals will be better, I promise.
If you want to buy a good chef’s knife, and every cook who wants to be worth his salt should have at least one good one, you will probably have to spend a bit more money than you think is necessary. Here are the rules you should follow when picking out quality cutlery:
1. The most expensive knife isn’t necessarily the best.
2. The cheapest knife isn’t necessarily he best.
3. If it’s not comfortable in your hand, it’s not a good knife for you.
4. Try out a knife before you buy it.
5. If you don’t take care of your knife, it will turn on you.
And take care of it you must. A dull knife is much more dangerous in the kitchen than a sharp one, because with a dull knife, you have to push harder to cut. The harder you push, the easier it is to slip and cut of a finger. Not fun.
I’ve tried several of the more expensive and well-known brands, and for my money, the best knife out there for me is a Global chef’s knife. 8 inches is a good size. It fits perfectly in my hand, and requires almost no effort to cut through nearly anything you need to cut. When trying it out at the kitchen store, I barely pushed down on a carrot, and that was all the force it took to cut it in half. Awesome. As an added bonus, Global knives look awesome.
Now, I don’t own one of these beauties yet. But I do want one. On an unrelated note, my birthday is November 5.
Needless to say, there aren’t too many people in India willing to fork over 100 USD (about 5000 rupees here) just for a knife. Take Shammi. He uses a flat, sharpened piece of stainless steel attached to a wooden handle. I’m not sure if you can even call it a knife. It’s about 10 inches long and costs 35 rupees (about 75 cents in the states). With this prison shank, Shammi is able to expertly produce any Indian dish you can think of. Why? Well, for one reason, he’s had a lot of practice with it. But mostly, there’s just not a lot of precision cutting required here. Mostly, all that needs to be done is dice onions and garlic, disassemble a head of cauliflower, or shred cabbage. Oh, and when he brings in the chicken for my once-weekly non-veg meal, the kitchen turns into a scene out of Psycho. It ain’t pretty.
I have also used this same poor excuse for a knife for the past 3 months, and strangely enough, I’m getting used to it too. I can still cut an onion and dice garlic, and it gets the job done. It’s not perfect, but my meals are still delicious. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: a person can get used to anything.
So does that mean I’ve rethought buying my $100 Global knife when I get back? Not a chance. Two reasons. First, if definitely does do the job faster and better. Second, it’s sexy as hell. ‘Nuff said.
If you want to buy a good chef’s knife, and every cook who wants to be worth his salt should have at least one good one, you will probably have to spend a bit more money than you think is necessary. Here are the rules you should follow when picking out quality cutlery:
1. The most expensive knife isn’t necessarily the best.
2. The cheapest knife isn’t necessarily he best.
3. If it’s not comfortable in your hand, it’s not a good knife for you.
4. Try out a knife before you buy it.
5. If you don’t take care of your knife, it will turn on you.
And take care of it you must. A dull knife is much more dangerous in the kitchen than a sharp one, because with a dull knife, you have to push harder to cut. The harder you push, the easier it is to slip and cut of a finger. Not fun.
I’ve tried several of the more expensive and well-known brands, and for my money, the best knife out there for me is a Global chef’s knife. 8 inches is a good size. It fits perfectly in my hand, and requires almost no effort to cut through nearly anything you need to cut. When trying it out at the kitchen store, I barely pushed down on a carrot, and that was all the force it took to cut it in half. Awesome. As an added bonus, Global knives look awesome.
Now, I don’t own one of these beauties yet. But I do want one. On an unrelated note, my birthday is November 5.
Needless to say, there aren’t too many people in India willing to fork over 100 USD (about 5000 rupees here) just for a knife. Take Shammi. He uses a flat, sharpened piece of stainless steel attached to a wooden handle. I’m not sure if you can even call it a knife. It’s about 10 inches long and costs 35 rupees (about 75 cents in the states). With this prison shank, Shammi is able to expertly produce any Indian dish you can think of. Why? Well, for one reason, he’s had a lot of practice with it. But mostly, there’s just not a lot of precision cutting required here. Mostly, all that needs to be done is dice onions and garlic, disassemble a head of cauliflower, or shred cabbage. Oh, and when he brings in the chicken for my once-weekly non-veg meal, the kitchen turns into a scene out of Psycho. It ain’t pretty.
I have also used this same poor excuse for a knife for the past 3 months, and strangely enough, I’m getting used to it too. I can still cut an onion and dice garlic, and it gets the job done. It’s not perfect, but my meals are still delicious. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: a person can get used to anything.
So does that mean I’ve rethought buying my $100 Global knife when I get back? Not a chance. Two reasons. First, if definitely does do the job faster and better. Second, it’s sexy as hell. ‘Nuff said.
16 April 2010
Absence Makes the Thesis Get Written Faster
I apologize for not writing on this blog for so long. There are several reasons for it.
1. There’s not much to do at KLB these days. Exams are still going on, the hostel students have locked themselves in their rooms to study, and Principal Ramdev isn’t at school this week to ask me to make brownies or candy.
2. There’s a two-day holiday. No school anyway. Again, not much to do.
3. I’ve taken the opportunity to write my final paper on what I’ve learned about Palampur culture for my internship credit. The first draft is finished. I just have to polish it up.
4. When I’m spending several days exhausting my writing creativity on my thesis, which is basically and extended version of my blog, I really don’t feel much like writing when I get home.
5. I realized that I missed the entire first half of the last season of Lost. Gotta catch up. If you’ve never seen it, don’t. It’s addicting. Once you start, you can’t stop.
6. There’s some work to do to get ready for the next batch of MSU students who are coming here in late May, including getting a new house. Looks like I’ll be moving out of the mud hut.
Now, I have a very important question. Are they on the island, or aren’t they? Somebody help me, I’m so confused!
1. There’s not much to do at KLB these days. Exams are still going on, the hostel students have locked themselves in their rooms to study, and Principal Ramdev isn’t at school this week to ask me to make brownies or candy.
2. There’s a two-day holiday. No school anyway. Again, not much to do.
3. I’ve taken the opportunity to write my final paper on what I’ve learned about Palampur culture for my internship credit. The first draft is finished. I just have to polish it up.
4. When I’m spending several days exhausting my writing creativity on my thesis, which is basically and extended version of my blog, I really don’t feel much like writing when I get home.
5. I realized that I missed the entire first half of the last season of Lost. Gotta catch up. If you’ve never seen it, don’t. It’s addicting. Once you start, you can’t stop.
6. There’s some work to do to get ready for the next batch of MSU students who are coming here in late May, including getting a new house. Looks like I’ll be moving out of the mud hut.
Now, I have a very important question. Are they on the island, or aren’t they? Somebody help me, I’m so confused!
12 April 2010
Cake, MacGyver Style
I like cake.
A lot.
There are so many things in America that I simply don’t miss. I like not having what I’m used to. Every day is a little bit of a challenge getting by without some things that I once considered necessary. Showers, easy transportation, fast internet, and cheap phone calls are just a few things. Even foods that I loved eating in America, I don’t miss very much. Things like peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, breakfast cereal and yeast bread used to be a part of my daily fare, but I don’t get a bite of them anymore. And that’s okay. I’m eating a completely different diet, and enjoying it. I just don’t miss any food from back home.
Except for cake.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I got here. I just love it so much. Moist, soft layers blanketed by sweet, buttery (usually European-style) icing and flavored by exotic combinations of chocolate, caramel, vanilla or something else exciting, all stacked neatly together in an ordered arrangement… well, that’s my idea of perfection. Cake is the one food that I always eat slowly, because in a good cake, every bite is a masterful symphony on my taste buds. You have to slow down to really enjoy it. On top of that, if a baker has even a little bit of know-how and ingenuity, a cake is turned into a blank canvas on which they can execute a wide range of edible decorations that just adds to the wonderfulness that is a piece of cake. Yep, there’s nothing like cake.
Especially in India. Sure, you can go to one of the bakeries here and buy of piece of what they call cake. But you won’t like it, I promise you. It’s dry, tasteless sponge hastily shrouded in a simple white icing which lacks soul as much as it does flavor. It’s just sweet, and nothing else. I remember purchasing one within two weeks of arriving, and after two bites I stopped eating it. It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just not good at all. There’s nothing to it. In my opinion, cake here needs a great deal of improvement. Oh, and don’t worry, this has very little to do with influencing the culture or introducing Indians to new foods. I was just really jonesing for a good piece of cake, and willing to go to pretty good lengths to procure it.
The plan was set into motion several weeks ago when I made brownies for Principal Ramdev’s wife. I may have mentioned before that I discovered it was possible to make brownies in a microwave, which is exactly what I was doing at the time. It just so happened that the plastic container in which these particular brownies were being nuked was perfectly round, about 6 inches in diameter, and the resulting brownies slipped easily out of the container after they were finished. It got me thinking, if you can make brownies in the microwave, why not a cake? It’s almost the same thing, just a batter risen by baking soda, and using a round container would yield cake rounds ready to be split into layers and frosted. I almost hit myself for not thinking of it before. I realized that yes, I can make a cake in India, despite lacking what I would consider to be common ingredients and equipment. I just needed to think outside of the cake box a little bit.
Next, I needed to find a recipe that could be easily mixed without beating butter and sugar. While the creaming method tends to produce the best flavor and texture, it would be nearly impossible to achieve the desired texture by hand, and by hand is the only way you get things in India. No electric beaters to be found here, no sir. I also decided almost immediately not to try and do this project without eggs. It’s possible, sure, but not this time. As I mentioned before, this was for me more than it was for anybody else. Not just the eating of the cake, but the cooking and construction of it are things that I am very good at doing, and I have missed doing them (and eating the results) for the past 3 months. What can I say, I’m like a cake junkie.
Armed with a simple but delicious chocolate cake recipe from my overseas culinary consultant, I had to next select the frosting, and in my mind, a buttercream was an absolute necessity. Standard American buttercream frostings (commonly known as “crunchy” frostings) are nothing but a mixture of butter and sugar, and are far too sweet for my taste. Meringue-style buttercreams, common to European recipes, call for some combination of eggs and sugar cooked and beaten, and are then fortified with butter. These are by far the tastiest, and also the most difficult to produce. I choose the Swiss method, which does not require cooking sugar syrup, but still needs up to an hour of hard beating. I don’t have Popeye forearms, and have thought it would be impossible to make a meringue frosting by hand, but that was before I came to India. In the past several weeks, I made a variety of whipped items, including marshmallows and divinity candy. I felt confident that I could produce a whipped frosting by hand. My flavor of choice would be leftover dulce de leche beaten into the finished frosting.
One problem with making a cake in India is that bakery-quality pastries often require a certain amount of waste to produce a well-decorated product. One must use only the egg whites in the frosting, the sides of the cake should be cut to get straight sides, and any frosting that gets cake crumbs in it can’t be used on the cake itself. I’ve worked in a bakery before, and was trained to decorate cakes with some necessary waste, but I knew that wouldn’t go over to well with Mrs. Singh, whose microwave and kitchen I would be using to make the cake. That’s why I used the egg yolks leftover from the frosting to make simple chocolate custard that I would put in between the cake layers. Instead of trimming the layers to make the sides straight, I would just use a slightly thicker layer of icing to make it look flat. And I would just have to be extra careful to get as few crumbs in the frosting as possible.
I must say, when I finally made the cake yesterday, after planning it for at least two weeks, everything went much better than expected. The frosting whipped up well (after a good 45 minutes of beating it by hand), the custard came together, and the microwave cooked the cake layers perfectly. I improvised much of the common decorating equipment, like a turn table and an icing spatula, with stuff that I found around the kitchen. Best of all, the result turned out to be 90% as good as the best cake I’ve ever eaten, at least by my judgment. Sure, it may have been because I haven’t eaten a cake in 3 months, but still, I think the quality of it was right up there with any other that I’ve eaten.
Why should anybody reading this care about me making cake? Well, the way I see it, this cake is a representation of how much I’ve learned so far, and how well I’ve adapted to India. Almost 3 months ago when I arrived, Principal Ramdev asked if I could make American-style pastries and improve upon the recipes here. I told him that without a proper oven, powered mixer, American ingredients, and specialized decorating tools, it would be impossible. Clearly I was wrong. Now I know that I just need to step outside of my comfort zone. From now on, everything will be better.
Because now I have cake!
A lot.
There are so many things in America that I simply don’t miss. I like not having what I’m used to. Every day is a little bit of a challenge getting by without some things that I once considered necessary. Showers, easy transportation, fast internet, and cheap phone calls are just a few things. Even foods that I loved eating in America, I don’t miss very much. Things like peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, breakfast cereal and yeast bread used to be a part of my daily fare, but I don’t get a bite of them anymore. And that’s okay. I’m eating a completely different diet, and enjoying it. I just don’t miss any food from back home.
Except for cake.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I got here. I just love it so much. Moist, soft layers blanketed by sweet, buttery (usually European-style) icing and flavored by exotic combinations of chocolate, caramel, vanilla or something else exciting, all stacked neatly together in an ordered arrangement… well, that’s my idea of perfection. Cake is the one food that I always eat slowly, because in a good cake, every bite is a masterful symphony on my taste buds. You have to slow down to really enjoy it. On top of that, if a baker has even a little bit of know-how and ingenuity, a cake is turned into a blank canvas on which they can execute a wide range of edible decorations that just adds to the wonderfulness that is a piece of cake. Yep, there’s nothing like cake.
Especially in India. Sure, you can go to one of the bakeries here and buy of piece of what they call cake. But you won’t like it, I promise you. It’s dry, tasteless sponge hastily shrouded in a simple white icing which lacks soul as much as it does flavor. It’s just sweet, and nothing else. I remember purchasing one within two weeks of arriving, and after two bites I stopped eating it. It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just not good at all. There’s nothing to it. In my opinion, cake here needs a great deal of improvement. Oh, and don’t worry, this has very little to do with influencing the culture or introducing Indians to new foods. I was just really jonesing for a good piece of cake, and willing to go to pretty good lengths to procure it.
The plan was set into motion several weeks ago when I made brownies for Principal Ramdev’s wife. I may have mentioned before that I discovered it was possible to make brownies in a microwave, which is exactly what I was doing at the time. It just so happened that the plastic container in which these particular brownies were being nuked was perfectly round, about 6 inches in diameter, and the resulting brownies slipped easily out of the container after they were finished. It got me thinking, if you can make brownies in the microwave, why not a cake? It’s almost the same thing, just a batter risen by baking soda, and using a round container would yield cake rounds ready to be split into layers and frosted. I almost hit myself for not thinking of it before. I realized that yes, I can make a cake in India, despite lacking what I would consider to be common ingredients and equipment. I just needed to think outside of the cake box a little bit.
Next, I needed to find a recipe that could be easily mixed without beating butter and sugar. While the creaming method tends to produce the best flavor and texture, it would be nearly impossible to achieve the desired texture by hand, and by hand is the only way you get things in India. No electric beaters to be found here, no sir. I also decided almost immediately not to try and do this project without eggs. It’s possible, sure, but not this time. As I mentioned before, this was for me more than it was for anybody else. Not just the eating of the cake, but the cooking and construction of it are things that I am very good at doing, and I have missed doing them (and eating the results) for the past 3 months. What can I say, I’m like a cake junkie.
Armed with a simple but delicious chocolate cake recipe from my overseas culinary consultant, I had to next select the frosting, and in my mind, a buttercream was an absolute necessity. Standard American buttercream frostings (commonly known as “crunchy” frostings) are nothing but a mixture of butter and sugar, and are far too sweet for my taste. Meringue-style buttercreams, common to European recipes, call for some combination of eggs and sugar cooked and beaten, and are then fortified with butter. These are by far the tastiest, and also the most difficult to produce. I choose the Swiss method, which does not require cooking sugar syrup, but still needs up to an hour of hard beating. I don’t have Popeye forearms, and have thought it would be impossible to make a meringue frosting by hand, but that was before I came to India. In the past several weeks, I made a variety of whipped items, including marshmallows and divinity candy. I felt confident that I could produce a whipped frosting by hand. My flavor of choice would be leftover dulce de leche beaten into the finished frosting.
One problem with making a cake in India is that bakery-quality pastries often require a certain amount of waste to produce a well-decorated product. One must use only the egg whites in the frosting, the sides of the cake should be cut to get straight sides, and any frosting that gets cake crumbs in it can’t be used on the cake itself. I’ve worked in a bakery before, and was trained to decorate cakes with some necessary waste, but I knew that wouldn’t go over to well with Mrs. Singh, whose microwave and kitchen I would be using to make the cake. That’s why I used the egg yolks leftover from the frosting to make simple chocolate custard that I would put in between the cake layers. Instead of trimming the layers to make the sides straight, I would just use a slightly thicker layer of icing to make it look flat. And I would just have to be extra careful to get as few crumbs in the frosting as possible.
I must say, when I finally made the cake yesterday, after planning it for at least two weeks, everything went much better than expected. The frosting whipped up well (after a good 45 minutes of beating it by hand), the custard came together, and the microwave cooked the cake layers perfectly. I improvised much of the common decorating equipment, like a turn table and an icing spatula, with stuff that I found around the kitchen. Best of all, the result turned out to be 90% as good as the best cake I’ve ever eaten, at least by my judgment. Sure, it may have been because I haven’t eaten a cake in 3 months, but still, I think the quality of it was right up there with any other that I’ve eaten.
Why should anybody reading this care about me making cake? Well, the way I see it, this cake is a representation of how much I’ve learned so far, and how well I’ve adapted to India. Almost 3 months ago when I arrived, Principal Ramdev asked if I could make American-style pastries and improve upon the recipes here. I told him that without a proper oven, powered mixer, American ingredients, and specialized decorating tools, it would be impossible. Clearly I was wrong. Now I know that I just need to step outside of my comfort zone. From now on, everything will be better.
Because now I have cake!
10 April 2010
You Say Yes, I Say No
There are at least two things that Indians do that would be considered very rude by Westerners who come to India for the first time.
One is that Indians are always interrupting. Whether it’s cutting in front of you in line at a store or interjecting their completely unrelated thoughts into a private conversation, they do not hesitate to put themselves before others. Their needs and their thoughts always come first, and that’s okay.
The other thing is that Indians always nod and say yes. All the time. Especially when they don’t understand you.
“Shammi, can you purchase more eggs? There are no eggs in the mud hut.” (Notice the use of simple words that are easy to understand)
“Ha, yes, okay.”
“You understand?”
“Ha, eggs, yeah.”
Don’t expect eggs anytime soon.
This is the case with every single Indian I have met. No exception. They always nod and say yes and agree with you, even if they don’t have a clue what you are saying. It’s very easy to get confused. The trick is to just assume that don’t actually understand you, regardless of what they say.
I asked Principal Ramdev what he thought about that and where it might come from. His opinion is that it stems from primary education in India. Whenever you are asked a question in school, you are always expected to have the right answer. “I don’t know” is not acceptable. So if a teacher is doing a lecture and asks if you understand the material, Indians instinctively respond in the affirmative for fear of being reprimanded. I know that at least in my education, I was encouraged to speak up if I didn’t understand what I was learning, if I wanted it made clearer. That just isn’t the case here.
When you go to India, just assume that “yes” means “no.” It will make life easier.
One is that Indians are always interrupting. Whether it’s cutting in front of you in line at a store or interjecting their completely unrelated thoughts into a private conversation, they do not hesitate to put themselves before others. Their needs and their thoughts always come first, and that’s okay.
The other thing is that Indians always nod and say yes. All the time. Especially when they don’t understand you.
“Shammi, can you purchase more eggs? There are no eggs in the mud hut.” (Notice the use of simple words that are easy to understand)
“Ha, yes, okay.”
“You understand?”
“Ha, eggs, yeah.”
Don’t expect eggs anytime soon.
This is the case with every single Indian I have met. No exception. They always nod and say yes and agree with you, even if they don’t have a clue what you are saying. It’s very easy to get confused. The trick is to just assume that don’t actually understand you, regardless of what they say.
I asked Principal Ramdev what he thought about that and where it might come from. His opinion is that it stems from primary education in India. Whenever you are asked a question in school, you are always expected to have the right answer. “I don’t know” is not acceptable. So if a teacher is doing a lecture and asks if you understand the material, Indians instinctively respond in the affirmative for fear of being reprimanded. I know that at least in my education, I was encouraged to speak up if I didn’t understand what I was learning, if I wanted it made clearer. That just isn’t the case here.
When you go to India, just assume that “yes” means “no.” It will make life easier.
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