Kerala: the driving beach

So I just got back from Kerala last night. I had a lovely week staying with Vik's family in Mahe being stuffed with delicious South Indian food and fresh fruits. The first day of my trip was spent in bed, recovering from a small stomach bug that I had contracted on my way over from Delhi. In between my bathroom runs, I kept busy by reading and looking at a carton of old pictures that Vik's dad had taken in the 70s. The fashion, the mustaches and what americans would think of as closer to 50s technology kept me thoroughly entertained. By the second day, I had largely conquered the bug, so Vik and I took a tour of some of the nearby towns including the beach in these pictures.

Now this isn't just any beach, it's a driving beach. The sign said so and everything, with an arrow pointing to the entrance. What does that mean? It's like a drive through for the ocean (photo 1). Who wants to walk in the sand like a crazy person (photo 2)? Get your feed wet? Get sweaty (Kerala is very hot and muggy this time of year)? When you can just stay in your air conditioned car and soak in the scenery from there. One might even spot a crazy foreigner begging her lovely host to let her swim! Only if you have incredibly good look though, there aren't very many white people in this neck of the woods.

On the driving beach (where I insisted on walking), I found the shells of a local delicacy (last photo), I kind of shell fish that tastes similar to a cherry stone (for my cape cod followers). They are delicious, especially fried up with spicy seasoning, but the most incredible thing about them are the aqua color of the edge of the shell. I had truly never seen anything like it. In fact, this trip to Kerala had a lot in store for me in terms of weird flora and fauna. More on that later.

Love,
Violet

A cold when it's hot

So, I have been down with a cold for the last week or so. There is something particularly horrendous about having a cold when it's hot. And believe me it's hot. In Hindi, there isn't the poetic contrast of hot and cold, but they get the idea. In fact, since the seasons and food and medicines are largely based around the principles of heating and cooling, people are even more sympathetic to my predicament.

Unsurprisingly, my cold gets a lot of unsolicited (and solicited) advice. As much as it sucks, they tell me in very different words, you have to eat things that heat you up when you have a cold. I have been fed honey with cinnamon (delicious, but means that I can't drink water for half an hour afterward) and been compelled to put turmeric and black pepper on the banana I was about to enjoy for breakfast. I was denied cold water in favor of hot, and told to eat more onions (for regulating the body temperature). More than once a lovely maternal woman has heard me cough and sent me for a pen and paper so she can write down a whole new list of remedies.

The one suggestion that has surprisingly worked is a natural remedy called sualin. It's a compressed pill of spices that really quiets my cough. It has one annoying side effect though: it makes my mouth black.

So for the most part, I have been treating my cold by sleeping a lot, waking up, drinking hot water, sucking on sualins, and watching russell peters and say yes to the dress on youtube with a black mouth.

Feel free to comment with more suggestions, I'm thinking of starting a cold remedy blog.

Love,
Violet

Violet in Wonderland

So, it's been a little while. I can make excuses, but I'll just say that settling into a new city is hard work. I decided to get a little unchronological with my posts and write about a moment in Delhi that's perfectly illustrated by this photo. Those who have good spacial relations may remember that I am a fairly tall lady. In heels I am positively monstrous. This is multiplied in India, land of the tiny people and totally irregular architectural proportions. Let's just say I have smacked various parts of my body on about every surface available in this country. In one restaurant I went to, they didn't manage to make the ceiling to stair distance life size, but luckily they attached a pillow to the landing thingy over head. So they literally cushioned the blow. Anyhow, my bad pun isn't the story I wanted to tell.

The other day I was in the metro, heading just outside of Delhi for a second interview (yeah, that's right, I'm doing real things here, it's not all saffron and bhung lassis). As we get farther out from the city, I'm getting more and more attention from the people in my car (ladies only), and the next one, which is has an open connector tunnel, that looks like the middle of extra long city buses. So yeah, the train is getting into less western exposure land, and the men in the next car are staring. I get a little annoyed, but notice a whole gaggle of women about to get on at the next stop (amusingly they are all going to the german institute of noida, clutching their german language exercises in their hands). I relax thinking I'm going to get a little cover.

They all get on, and without any hyperbole, there is not a single person in the ladies car that is above shoulder height on me. So now, I'm in a crowded car, a blonde pin in a canopy of black. I do enjoy the different climate, air circulation, and moderate relief from BO up there, but needless to say I stand out even more. I glance at the men's look out point just in time to see a man lift a little boy above the Indian ladies to see me. At this point all I can do is giggle and salute.

Love,
Violet

Indian Coffee House

On Holi, after our first round of festivities, our first nap, and our first of many showers, Anika and I decided to go on a walk in search of some tea and snacks. We took a right out of the hostel and I immediately saw a sign for the Indian Coffee house. I was intrigued for many reasons, the most immediate was that Indian coffee in the north means one part nescafe instant coffee mixed with two parts hot milk and two parts sugar, served in a shot glass. So to see a whole place devoted to coffee, and one that seemed to be around before freeze drying technology certainly intrigued me. It intrigued Anika too, and stoked the flames of our appetites because where there is good coffee, there is almost definitely good South Indian food. We had banked on a little more exercise than crossing the street (although to be honest, that's more labor intensive and much more distance than one would imagine, think frogger, but maybe with a cow), so we forced ourselves to walk to the next intersection and loop around.

We emerged from the archway into a little courtyard (photo 2). Walking in the walls were green, and the waiters all wore white jackets and hats that were half neru and half soda fountain attendant. I was smitten. We had ice coffee (delicious and entirely unmilkshake-like), and were revived.

The next day, we made a half-hearted attempt to eat somewhere else before just deciding to go back. We had coffee (great) and an egg uttapam (usually a rice flour based thick bread thing, this one was made into a sort of bread omelette thing, also delicious). When I told my friend from Jaipur that we had been to this place, he said it was like the Cafe Kooba (our hang out spot for soda, beer, and hookah, back when I lived there), for his parents and his grandparents. He said that his father had probably taken his mother out on a date here. Anika and I weren't surprised because our second visit we ended up making friends with a whole bunch of older gentlemen, who got together there as their post retirement hang out spot. One of them was very excited to learn we were American. Pulling a list out of his pocket, he told us about the presidential coins he needed (we had never heard of them). He gave us his card, said we could stay with him anytime but reminded us to keep a look out for the 11th, and 13th presidents (the ones he was missing), and to kindly post them to him at the address written. Now I have officially broadcasted the hunt.

Love,
Violet

April Fool's Day in Delhi

Ok, so I'm delaying my photos of Udaipur another day in order to tell you this story. Yesterday was the first full day in my Delhi apartment. Anika is at work from 9 - 5:30, so I have become something of a housewife, taking care of the errands, doing the cooking, setting up our room and buying the necessities. Anyhow, I took a break from all this in the afternoon to have a coffee meeting (very interesting guy who started an NGO up in the hills). After we talked business for a while, we hung out for a while, chatting in Hindi, walking around. Eventually he decided he wanted to take me for chaat: something that can only be described as Indian fast food, or maybe as street food, anyhow. His friend came to meet us and we decided to play a prank on him in honor of April Fool's day.

So there are a couple of things you should know before I continue this story. One is that April Fool's day is not really a thing in India except that there are mass texts and people are aware of the jokes that google does etc. The second thing I should tell you is that this friend of my friend is a cop. That might not mean anything to the Americans, but the Indians I tell this story to visibly shudder at this declaration: "you played a trick on a cop". Etc etc.

We went over what to do. I suggested that we pretend I don't speak Hindi until he says something embarrassing and then trap him, but we decided that was too mean. Then we thought maybe we would convince him I was Indian. My friend suggested I try to convince him in Hindi that we had met before. In any case, I knew that the real shock/joke was going to be my Hindi speaking at all.

So we went with the last option. I went up to him and said in Hindi, "Rahul, it's been too long, how have you been, you don't remember me, etc etc". And he literally does a 90 head turn double take and says, "she speaks Hindi?" The funniest thing about the whole experience was that while eating etc, every time I would say something in Hindi (which was often, we were three people having a conversation), or made any reference to Indian culture, he was amusingly shocked all over again. The better April Fool's joke would have been if after all that I didn't speak Hindi, but it was super fun anyhow. And now I have a new friend! Who happens to be a great guy, an honest cop and runs the police station for the area that includes my neighborhood! And the chaat was the bomb...

Love,
Violet