The trip from Olappamana to Cochin was brutal. No air-conditioning. Our driver Boban bobbed all over the road to overtake buses, cows, goats, people and tuk tuks. We arrived to Nimmy and Paul's like two travelers trudging for days on the Sahara. Driving up to their sweet, walled compound I peered out the taxi to see Paul standing there waiting to welcome us (Boban had called). Paul smiled, and a wave of relief washed over me. Nimmy came out and they both welcomed us warmly. The house and yard are beautifully manicured and were an oasis of renewal and refreshment.
Comfortable beds, air-conditioned bedroom and wifi. There was a Christmas tree--Nimmy and Paul are Syrian Christians--St. Thomas came from Syria to found the church in Kerala, Misty thinks around 400 years ago. Lots of Christians around Cochin and in Kerala.
Nimmy was a flurry of activity in her pristine kitchens (she has three--one inside, one on the back porch and one outside). We discussed the menu, but I was so exhausted and sticky that I couldn't think straight. We sat down to a beautiful and unexpected lunch--I loved the two large shrimp (I think in a coconut "curry") atop a delicate, small dosa. There was more but I have to consult my photos....I must have been exhausted if I can't remember what I ate!
Later we made pearlspot (a local delicate white fish) with a lovely mixture of caramelized onions and seasonings wrapped in a banana leaf and "grilled" or pan-grilled. Since Misty was still not eating much, Nimmy decided to make comfort food. She'd had a long day of teaching (this is her busy season) and was also exhausted, so it suited her and Paul too. She showed me how to pressure cook toor dal, which can use a little soaking usually--a revelation after all these years of using a pressure cooker--lid on but not the jigger, bring to boil until steam comes out the top, place the jigger on and wait until the "first whistle". Remove it from the heat and let it cool. Such a great texture. She made us rice and dal. Then for Misty's poor stomach she made yogurt curry, which Nimmy says mothers will make their daughters and bring to them when visiting. Nimmy says that when her mother makes it she guards it to the last drop.
We had some excellent tasting and beautifully presented food the next day. Nimmy showed me how to make our breakfast "puttu" something I'd never seen--a crumbly mixture of rice flour and water steamed with grated coconut (and banana if you want). The texture was light and similar to angel food cake. Nimmy showed me so much, she's a pro...the day we left she was hosting a demo and dinner with 25 people after a cooking class lunch with others. A spiced grated coconut "curry" with brown chickpeas and another with white chickpeas rounded out breakfast.
I will admit, this was my meltdown day. I've not been sick, but I had a small hot and sticky hissy fit. Then later dropped my camera (I cried) and had to go out a buy a new one, which actually turned out to be a good experience due to Paul's advice. He sent us to a small shop with some really charming, kind men. They (like Nimmy and Paul) bent over backwards to get me set up. So now I have a great new camera. Unexpected expense!
Nimmy made six plus dishes for lunch:
Two big scampi marinated in garlic, chili, cocum, and ginger, cooked slightly without oil then seasoned with a little coconut oil and served on a small "dosa" pancake. Wow.
Fish curry with local superfresh sardines, I was swooning over that.
Fresh squid curry made like the shrimp.
A fish roll--kingfish cooked and shredded and cooked with onion, ginger chili, minced tomato, chili and turmeric powder and cilantro. It was rolled into small logs, dipped in egg and fine, fresh breadcrumbs, and fried in oil. Wow.
A simple dry, stir-fried cabbage "thoran" with a base of coconut oil, black mustard seed, dried red chili, sliced shallots and green chili. When the shallots colored she added shredded cabbage, turmeric and curry leaves. The dish was covered, and cooked until tender and slightly wilted, about 3 minutes. Nimmy made a hole in the center of the cabbage and poured in some grated coconut, smoothed the cabbage back over and cooked awhile longer.
White anchovies rubbed with white pepper, chili powder, turmeric and salt. She fried them in coconut oil until crispy and added curry leaves toward the last half of cooking.
In the evening a couple, both teachers from Mumbai came with her parents from Boston and their two small boys for a cooking demo and dinner. It was a lovely evening with several courses--the squid, "meen molee" (fish in coconut milk), vegetable stir-fry, and dessert--a traditional Christmas cake with fruit. They made entertaining dinner companions.
We had a slight fly in the ointment early in the day: we'd found out from Paul that all commercial taxis would be on strike in Kerala on the day we had planned a 8 or 9 hour drive through Kerala to Tamil Nadu and Madurai with Boban in his hot shakemobile. No easy way to get to Madurai. No train tickets available. So Paul called a friend with a taxi service and he kindly took us. I called Boban to cancel and he was not happy--the money meant a lot to him--but we couldn't risk it with him. He called me 8 times and texted me twice asking me to send him my friends when they come to Kerala.
Paul's friend used a private car license to the border and when in Tamil changing back to commercial. That was an intense experience. We loved the drive, so very India with shops and people lining the road in towns then stretches of rice paddies and coconut trees and grapes. Misty and I decided that rice paddy green is the ultimate in spring green. Coming into Tamil we could see differences in the people, clothing and landscape. Less English here too. The people are darker, more rustic, the saris are more cotton no silk and a bit countryish looking. Lots more fields under cultivation--millet and rice are staples with coconut. Our driver said Tamil is known for producing India's vegetables and they get many $$ concessions. He said that they work very hard. No doubt.
Our trip took around 10 hours and we got out once only for lunch. It was fascinating and not at all uncomfortable with air conditioning on high and all that amazing scenery and people going about village life moving past us. I saw a dead dog by the side of the road and couldn't talk for awhile. It struck me so hard--I suppose because it's symbolic of the pain and difficulty everyone here seems to endure.
Our driver was very intelligent, prosperous and kind hearted--a Hindu. We had so good talks, he has a brother in Florida who is quite wealthy. He got us into the traffic and crazy congestion of Madurai. I started hyperventilating, but Misty said don't look. I couldn't stop, smile. All the tuk tuks and cars and animals and people yikes. Cows calmly chewing when inches away trucks and buses whizzed by dangerously. We paid a tuk tuk driver to lead us to the hotel because we got lost. The driver claimed it was his fault! It was not. When he drove us to our big hotel we heaved a sigh of relief. He dropped us, I told him he was my Indian brother, looking out for our welfare as a brother would. Trip cost us 9000 rupees with tip--about 225 dollars. Then he had to drive 10 hours home to Cochin!! I felt so guilty. He wanted to get back to his tiny daughter. When we sat in the lobby to check in I began to cry with relief and with a certain love for that man.
Americans should know that India is not scary. I was afraid of it but it's much like the rest of Asia. I keep forgetting where I am.
Hotel is great with hot water, great shower and beds of comfort--the simple things of life. Will post later on why we came: the temple of Meenakshi, which Misty says is a huge holy site for Indian Hindus.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
A Step Back in Time
24 and 25 December 25, 2010
Misty and I are here at the 50-acre Olappamana Mana estate and preserve north of Cochin, Kerala. We hired a driver from the historic Ft. Cochin area for the 3-1/2 hour drive here. A drive in this part of India is unlike anything in the States. Our driver (like all others) swerves in and out of traffic seamlessly, constantly tooting his horn (like all others) and passing. Cars, trucks and huge buses share the two lane roads with auto-rickshaws and motorbikes. Dizzying. After a drive up to the mountains the day before, when we went to a spice plantation and a tea plantation, we felt as if we’d been put in a martini shaker for 13 hours. The drive to Olappamana was less blenderizing.
Back to our arrival here at the homestay of O. N. Damodaran and his wife Srideevi, host and hostess: on arrival we immediately sat down to an amazing spread of food arranged carefully on a banana leaf—all vegetarian and all “simple” but so tasty. Every food had a specific place on the leaf. A cup of soupy rasam, a beetroot sambhar (kind of curry), cucumber oolan (boiled in coconut milk), drumstick greens curry, tenderjack poriyal—young jackfruit that is pounded and seasoned, looking much like fish, but lightly savory, coriander rice, round homemade puri/pappadum fried in their own homemade coconut oil, a sweet banana pasayam made with jaggery and rice, and hot tea. All the leftovers go to staff who eat in the kitchen.
Before the first day’s afternoon tea Srideevi showed us how to make a tasty dessert: she had made a batter with ground soaked rice, which she spread on a banana leaf and topped with grated coconut, jaggery and banana lightly cooked. She wrapped them and steamed the packets for 30 minutes. WOW. I’m eating some sweets here. In fact I am eating lots here. I love this food. Misty has not been able to eat much due to unsettled stomach. I’ve been okay—a little unsettled because of the water they use here to rinse out serving dishes, but Misty says that’s okay, we will start to be acclimated. The water here comes from a well, but they drink filtered water.
The first evening Damodaran took us into one of the old buildings for a puja ritual for his grandson’s birthday for which his daughter paid. An amazing, large “painting” on the floor of the goddess Kali was drawn in colored rice powders. Then an elaborate ritual involving several men (specially trained from certain castes only) wrapped in cotton “skirts”, flowers, palm reeds, water, burning wicks and drumming was performed. We stayed through 1 hour of it. Kali was destroyed at the end. Every night we hear drumming as more pujas are performed for others. Damodaran is preserving old Hindu rituals for the younger generation and for foreigners. There are few places where non-Hindus are allowed to see this. I keep thinking of how Sandy and Field Carden, who are traveling here next year, would love this place. It’s remarkable.
I’ve mostly been attached to Srideevi in the kitchen. An hour before each meal I go and sit on a chair in the kitchen, taking notes and photos.
26 December
This AM we had a lovely spread of uppma—semolina cooked and seasoned with black mustard seeds and curry leaves. Very mild. We ate that with tiny sweet bananas. We also had boiled plantains—tender and sweet, poori deep-fried in the estate’s own coconut oil and served with potato masala, coconut chutney and bracing black tea. After breakfast we went on a “tour” of the backyard where a curry leaf tree, allspice leaf tree, sawtooth or culantro, drumstick plant, taro and a sort of large oregano-scented leaf bush rubbed elbows. Pepper plants twine around mango, coconut and jackfruit trees. It’s a jungle. You drop anything in the ground and it grows. Our northern Michigan farmers would love it.
This truly is a paradise. Except for the monsoons when everything is constantly wet and mold, my kryptonite, grows everywhere. My eyes are slightly swollen all the time from the slight mildew ever present. Our room is up high and overlooks three other ancient formal buildings from around 1700 and 1800s—very airy and not mildewy. We do lock ourselves in at night and put the ceiling fan on full force to keep mosquitoes at bay. Everyone you talk to from Delhi, Goa and Kerala says that 1.) We have no malaria nor dengue fever and 2.) It’s okay to drink the water. I keep taking doxycycline for malaria and drinking boiled or bottled water though. I’m still okay, cross my fingers. Misty is still not fully mended from her encounter with a soft omelette in the Marriott in Goa over a week ago.
Srideevi and Damodaran are youngish: 56 and 63. They are very kind and knowledgeable, treating us like honored guests. Keralite hospitality. I’m coming home with dishes that will make a wonderful South Indian cooking class. Look out.
Damodaran is a retired engineer, one of 10 children of a once very wealthy and still highly-educated family. His wife Srideevi of five children is his second cousin; they knew each other as children. Srideevi said that after she married, a woman friend came to visit and asked her how she could live so far away from a large city. Srideevi replied that she loved it here at Olappamana and had been coming here as a child. She is very low-key, beautiful and kind—she looks 40, but has three grown children, one boy and two girls who are successful, handsome and happy. All with arranged marriages. Damodaran told us that children can be taken to court if they do not take care of their parents!
They have 30 acres in rubber trees, which make them a good income. Damodaran says that his family had thousands of acres originally. They were very wealthy.
I’ve just returned from an enormous lunch feast—all without dairy made because they know I cannot tolerate it! For four hours I watched 2 men and Srideevi cook. Our menu:
Koottu: pressure cooked yam, cucumber and soaked chickpeas . Then poured into a pot with cooked channa dal or split peeled chickpeas, turmeric, black pepper and 1/2 of a coconut, ground. The koottu was simmered. The other half of the coconut was grated and fried until quite brown and stirred in at the last.
Yam Poriyal: a tempering with coconut oil, mustard seed, dried red chilies and curry leaves starts the dish. Diced yam is added with a little water and boiled until yam is cooked and water evaporates. Then salt and 1/2 of a coconut, grated, is added.
Okra Sambhar: a very soupy curry of cooked okra, tamarind, cooked toor dal and a little tomato is simmered with a ground masala of asafetida, coriander seed, fenugreek, red chilies and coconut fried in coconut oil.
Aviyal: a julienned vegetable “curry” with pumpkin, yam, carrot and green beans cooked with turmeric and tamarind water. Grated coconut is added, simmered and garnished with fresh curry leaves and a little coconut oil.
Sprouted whole moong (mung) dal: Turmeric and dal are fried for 1 minute in coconut oil then a pinch of red pepper, salt, lemon juice and cilantro are added. Crunchy, nutty and fresh.
Taro stem curry: taro stem cooked with water and turmeric. Coconut ground with cumin seed is added and simmered, then a typical tempering of mustard seed, dal and curry leaves fried in coconut oil is stirred in at the end.
We had boiled rice (soft) with fried-in-coconut-oil pappadums alongside. Dessert was a “paysayam”, a thick “soup” of split and peeled mung dal (half fried in coconut oil until quite brown) cooked with coconut milk and jaggery syrup until thick. Wow. I’d rather have that than cake any day.
For tea today we’re to have kunjipidi or small rice balls in a savory tempering of coconut oil, mustard seed, urad dal and curry leaves.
I’m off to a nap. Tommorrow morning we eat breakfast and leave around 10AM for Cochin again, where we’ll have a cooking class with Nimmy Paul, a well-known Indian chef. She’s been written up in Gourmet and RW Apple wrote about her in the New York Times. I'm very excited.
Misty and I are here at the 50-acre Olappamana Mana estate and preserve north of Cochin, Kerala. We hired a driver from the historic Ft. Cochin area for the 3-1/2 hour drive here. A drive in this part of India is unlike anything in the States. Our driver (like all others) swerves in and out of traffic seamlessly, constantly tooting his horn (like all others) and passing. Cars, trucks and huge buses share the two lane roads with auto-rickshaws and motorbikes. Dizzying. After a drive up to the mountains the day before, when we went to a spice plantation and a tea plantation, we felt as if we’d been put in a martini shaker for 13 hours. The drive to Olappamana was less blenderizing.
Back to our arrival here at the homestay of O. N. Damodaran and his wife Srideevi, host and hostess: on arrival we immediately sat down to an amazing spread of food arranged carefully on a banana leaf—all vegetarian and all “simple” but so tasty. Every food had a specific place on the leaf. A cup of soupy rasam, a beetroot sambhar (kind of curry), cucumber oolan (boiled in coconut milk), drumstick greens curry, tenderjack poriyal—young jackfruit that is pounded and seasoned, looking much like fish, but lightly savory, coriander rice, round homemade puri/pappadum fried in their own homemade coconut oil, a sweet banana pasayam made with jaggery and rice, and hot tea. All the leftovers go to staff who eat in the kitchen.
Before the first day’s afternoon tea Srideevi showed us how to make a tasty dessert: she had made a batter with ground soaked rice, which she spread on a banana leaf and topped with grated coconut, jaggery and banana lightly cooked. She wrapped them and steamed the packets for 30 minutes. WOW. I’m eating some sweets here. In fact I am eating lots here. I love this food. Misty has not been able to eat much due to unsettled stomach. I’ve been okay—a little unsettled because of the water they use here to rinse out serving dishes, but Misty says that’s okay, we will start to be acclimated. The water here comes from a well, but they drink filtered water.
The first evening Damodaran took us into one of the old buildings for a puja ritual for his grandson’s birthday for which his daughter paid. An amazing, large “painting” on the floor of the goddess Kali was drawn in colored rice powders. Then an elaborate ritual involving several men (specially trained from certain castes only) wrapped in cotton “skirts”, flowers, palm reeds, water, burning wicks and drumming was performed. We stayed through 1 hour of it. Kali was destroyed at the end. Every night we hear drumming as more pujas are performed for others. Damodaran is preserving old Hindu rituals for the younger generation and for foreigners. There are few places where non-Hindus are allowed to see this. I keep thinking of how Sandy and Field Carden, who are traveling here next year, would love this place. It’s remarkable.
I’ve mostly been attached to Srideevi in the kitchen. An hour before each meal I go and sit on a chair in the kitchen, taking notes and photos.
26 December
This AM we had a lovely spread of uppma—semolina cooked and seasoned with black mustard seeds and curry leaves. Very mild. We ate that with tiny sweet bananas. We also had boiled plantains—tender and sweet, poori deep-fried in the estate’s own coconut oil and served with potato masala, coconut chutney and bracing black tea. After breakfast we went on a “tour” of the backyard where a curry leaf tree, allspice leaf tree, sawtooth or culantro, drumstick plant, taro and a sort of large oregano-scented leaf bush rubbed elbows. Pepper plants twine around mango, coconut and jackfruit trees. It’s a jungle. You drop anything in the ground and it grows. Our northern Michigan farmers would love it.
This truly is a paradise. Except for the monsoons when everything is constantly wet and mold, my kryptonite, grows everywhere. My eyes are slightly swollen all the time from the slight mildew ever present. Our room is up high and overlooks three other ancient formal buildings from around 1700 and 1800s—very airy and not mildewy. We do lock ourselves in at night and put the ceiling fan on full force to keep mosquitoes at bay. Everyone you talk to from Delhi, Goa and Kerala says that 1.) We have no malaria nor dengue fever and 2.) It’s okay to drink the water. I keep taking doxycycline for malaria and drinking boiled or bottled water though. I’m still okay, cross my fingers. Misty is still not fully mended from her encounter with a soft omelette in the Marriott in Goa over a week ago.
Srideevi and Damodaran are youngish: 56 and 63. They are very kind and knowledgeable, treating us like honored guests. Keralite hospitality. I’m coming home with dishes that will make a wonderful South Indian cooking class. Look out.
Damodaran is a retired engineer, one of 10 children of a once very wealthy and still highly-educated family. His wife Srideevi of five children is his second cousin; they knew each other as children. Srideevi said that after she married, a woman friend came to visit and asked her how she could live so far away from a large city. Srideevi replied that she loved it here at Olappamana and had been coming here as a child. She is very low-key, beautiful and kind—she looks 40, but has three grown children, one boy and two girls who are successful, handsome and happy. All with arranged marriages. Damodaran told us that children can be taken to court if they do not take care of their parents!
They have 30 acres in rubber trees, which make them a good income. Damodaran says that his family had thousands of acres originally. They were very wealthy.
I’ve just returned from an enormous lunch feast—all without dairy made because they know I cannot tolerate it! For four hours I watched 2 men and Srideevi cook. Our menu:
Koottu: pressure cooked yam, cucumber and soaked chickpeas . Then poured into a pot with cooked channa dal or split peeled chickpeas, turmeric, black pepper and 1/2 of a coconut, ground. The koottu was simmered. The other half of the coconut was grated and fried until quite brown and stirred in at the last.
Yam Poriyal: a tempering with coconut oil, mustard seed, dried red chilies and curry leaves starts the dish. Diced yam is added with a little water and boiled until yam is cooked and water evaporates. Then salt and 1/2 of a coconut, grated, is added.
Okra Sambhar: a very soupy curry of cooked okra, tamarind, cooked toor dal and a little tomato is simmered with a ground masala of asafetida, coriander seed, fenugreek, red chilies and coconut fried in coconut oil.
Aviyal: a julienned vegetable “curry” with pumpkin, yam, carrot and green beans cooked with turmeric and tamarind water. Grated coconut is added, simmered and garnished with fresh curry leaves and a little coconut oil.
Sprouted whole moong (mung) dal: Turmeric and dal are fried for 1 minute in coconut oil then a pinch of red pepper, salt, lemon juice and cilantro are added. Crunchy, nutty and fresh.
Taro stem curry: taro stem cooked with water and turmeric. Coconut ground with cumin seed is added and simmered, then a typical tempering of mustard seed, dal and curry leaves fried in coconut oil is stirred in at the end.
We had boiled rice (soft) with fried-in-coconut-oil pappadums alongside. Dessert was a “paysayam”, a thick “soup” of split and peeled mung dal (half fried in coconut oil until quite brown) cooked with coconut milk and jaggery syrup until thick. Wow. I’d rather have that than cake any day.
For tea today we’re to have kunjipidi or small rice balls in a savory tempering of coconut oil, mustard seed, urad dal and curry leaves.
I’m off to a nap. Tommorrow morning we eat breakfast and leave around 10AM for Cochin again, where we’ll have a cooking class with Nimmy Paul, a well-known Indian chef. She’s been written up in Gourmet and RW Apple wrote about her in the New York Times. I'm very excited.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
23 December in Cochin, Kerala
Hot here. Touristy town, an old port city for the Portuguese. Lots of Catholic and Christian churches here, so lots of celebrations for the holidays. We went on a long and slightly wild ride up to the Western Gnats, a series of beautiful old mountains that made me think of Nepal. We saw thousands of acres of tea that looked like a trim rug in designs of green. And went to a spice plantation and saw a monitor lizard for Bill and lots of exotic plants like kokum and tamarind and tamarillo.
On the way back we saw a procession from a local Catholic elementary school. Lots of music and kids dressed like santa claus. Plus a manger scene filled with angels and mary and joseph on the back of a small trailer. Mothers in colorful saris walked piously behind...it was pure India!
We go back up to the cool Gnats tommorrow for a couple days to stay at a preserve with an old Brahmin family. Cooking class two coming up.
Sorry there are no photos. I'm having a hard time uploading them.
On the way back we saw a procession from a local Catholic elementary school. Lots of music and kids dressed like santa claus. Plus a manger scene filled with angels and mary and joseph on the back of a small trailer. Mothers in colorful saris walked piously behind...it was pure India!
We go back up to the cool Gnats tommorrow for a couple days to stay at a preserve with an old Brahmin family. Cooking class two coming up.
Sorry there are no photos. I'm having a hard time uploading them.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Dog Song
Last night sitting on the veranda after dinner and talking with my host, Remy, I heard the most soul-stirring dog song. It spoke of sorrow and loss. And a longing for connection, maybe to humans, or maybe just to other dogs. I must say it haunted me in the middle of the night.
In the morning I mentioned my heartbreak to Remy and he told me that he had felt the same way when he first arrived here. He had fed the local dogs and they began to gain strength--that led to their barking all night. Remy said he began to put sleeping pills in their food, but cleverly they spit them out. So he stopped feeding them and they went back to a somnolent life. Quiet. Remy says that a hungry dog is a quiet dog.
Ayurvedic massage was great. I had warm unrefined sesame oil massaged into my hair and body. The table was a beautiful local wood, hard and gushy with oil. Slipping and sliding around, smile. I feel good today. I did get to take a shower, but not with soap. The young man who ran the center was very professional. He had formulated traditional hair and body scrubs from herbs and dal. We had young coconut water afterward. Then Mukti took me to have sev puri and pani puri, which I'll post photos of. Tiny deep-fried puffs filled with a bit of spiced potatoes, minced onion, tamarind chutney and in the case of pani puri, a water simmered with cilantro, mint and cumin seed.
In the morning I mentioned my heartbreak to Remy and he told me that he had felt the same way when he first arrived here. He had fed the local dogs and they began to gain strength--that led to their barking all night. Remy said he began to put sleeping pills in their food, but cleverly they spit them out. So he stopped feeding them and they went back to a somnolent life. Quiet. Remy says that a hungry dog is a quiet dog.
Ayurvedic massage was great. I had warm unrefined sesame oil massaged into my hair and body. The table was a beautiful local wood, hard and gushy with oil. Slipping and sliding around, smile. I feel good today. I did get to take a shower, but not with soap. The young man who ran the center was very professional. He had formulated traditional hair and body scrubs from herbs and dal. We had young coconut water afterward. Then Mukti took me to have sev puri and pani puri, which I'll post photos of. Tiny deep-fried puffs filled with a bit of spiced potatoes, minced onion, tamarind chutney and in the case of pani puri, a water simmered with cilantro, mint and cumin seed.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Delhi and Goa
Got to Delhi after 14 hours in the airplane. Not bad. We had a great two days staying with a couple in a homestay. Very private and good neighborhood. Misty and I shopped a bit but are holding back until the end of the trip.
The flight from Delhi to Goa, not a long trip, turned into an all day affair. Sitting on the tarmac waiting for the premier of China to leave. Then we had to go to Bombay. It was 4PM by the time we arrived in Goa, 2 hours late. I’d gotten up at 5.30AM. We were tired and looking forward to comfort.
I did get to talk with two young Indians who were fascinating: a young indie filmmaker from Bombay and a beautiful privileged well traveled young Nigerian born woman who was educated in England. Her accent was Prince Charles uppercrust. Both were highly intelligent and deeply insightful about India.
Arrival in Goa was hot and sticky. Delhi was cold in the AM. Driver found us with his ancient beater mini mini “van”. The horn had laryingitis and the engine was coughing everytime we had to go uphill or pass. Saw my first cows on the roads here: big eyed and beautiful with huge curved horns. And the dogs. Oh my heart aches for them. More on that later.
After a long curvy ride the driver stops thump unceremoniously at a rudimentary ferry “dock”. Before long a small ratty ferry drops its ramp and we all crowd on, people cars motorcycles etc. It was glacially slow, but thankfully not far and it turned out we were going to be staying on an island with few amenities.
It is very much like Puerto Rico here except that signs are in Sanskrit and the women wear colorful saris. In fact, this area was settled by the Portuguese (famous for Vindaloos) around the 1500s around the same time as PR. Many Christian churches too. We visited a few yesterday.
Back to our arrival. Finally the driver stops at a small house and out walks Fabien, my French connection. He is under 30 and doesn’t smile. It turns out the electricity is out. And the bedding smells of mildew. No mosquito nets and lots of holes to the outside. And it is getting dark and we are tired and hungry. So we lie down in separate rooms. A tear falls from my eye, but just one. I am thinking, I cannot stay here, what to do. Fabien isn’t finished with the place but it is spare and has the beginnings of beauty. I don’t want a cold shower.
I hear Misty telling him she can’t stay there. She comes into my room and tells me this and I am so relieved I could kiss her. I wholeheartedly agree and she is relieved! So we ask Fabien to get us a hotel in town. Very expensive and booked high season, but he does. His Columbian girlfriend, Christina is compassionate: she felt the same way we do when she first arrived from Paris.
In desperation Fabien calls the French people with whom I was going to stay the last two days. He takes me over on his motorbike, whew, to see their place. They stay home from visiting friends to accommodate us. When I walked up to Mukti and Remy’s big Portuguese house I felt immediately at home. They are early fifties and Mukti was so warm. She is Indian but has lived in Paris for a decade, very educated. Their place is fully and beautifully renovated with spacious rooms and a huge kitchen, where I’ll have a class.
I want to stay with them. So Fabien brings Misty over. She is NOT smiling. The Marriott is $300 a night, which I don’t want to pay, it is 8PM and I’m exhausted and hungry. So we stay.
The next morning Misty is back to herself. She’s been looking at the book of Hampi where is wants to take the overnight bus. Mukti advises her to go a day early as the site is huge and tiring. So we eat a few chapattis and tea and head out to the nearest small town where Misty can get tickets. We spend time doing errands, eating lunch and at a small fabric shop that sells cotton from Pune, it’s the homespun Khadi fabric that Gandhi-ji encouraged everyone to wear. Mukti is from Pune. She buys fabric, designs women’s clothing Indian style from it and takes the clothes back to Paris and sells them as she said, “like a Tupperware party”.
I left Misty to her trip and returned to my lovely sanctuary and a great dinner prepared by the Gass’s cook. Spicy mackerel cakes, chapattis made with a local millet, a lightly spiced and cooked green papaya dish and a dish made with a vegetable that looked like tiny cucumbers. Plus a dal. Sigh, so good! And the conversation was enlightening. We talked about food, India and Indians, my driver Mr. Vishnu, Fabien and how he has no electricity because he didn’t want to pay the bribes and now has a bad reputation with the local electrical board (after his former girlfriend went in and threw a fit). Remy told me a lot about India and the class system and how it is living on the island amongst the people and the corrupt corrupt government.
(I packaged up Misty and my lunch leftovers and dropped them to one of the more forlorn looking dogs at the island ferry dock. She has long droopy teats and bits of hair missing, but very intelligent eyes. Lots of “island” dogs here. Few are owned or cared for much like PR and Bali. I cry inside every time I see one. They are worse than the beggars, of which I have seen few.)
My health is fine, I'm loving it here. Getting an ayurvedic massage today.
I'll post photos eventually. Too busy right now. Love to all.
Nancy
The flight from Delhi to Goa, not a long trip, turned into an all day affair. Sitting on the tarmac waiting for the premier of China to leave. Then we had to go to Bombay. It was 4PM by the time we arrived in Goa, 2 hours late. I’d gotten up at 5.30AM. We were tired and looking forward to comfort.
I did get to talk with two young Indians who were fascinating: a young indie filmmaker from Bombay and a beautiful privileged well traveled young Nigerian born woman who was educated in England. Her accent was Prince Charles uppercrust. Both were highly intelligent and deeply insightful about India.
Arrival in Goa was hot and sticky. Delhi was cold in the AM. Driver found us with his ancient beater mini mini “van”. The horn had laryingitis and the engine was coughing everytime we had to go uphill or pass. Saw my first cows on the roads here: big eyed and beautiful with huge curved horns. And the dogs. Oh my heart aches for them. More on that later.
After a long curvy ride the driver stops thump unceremoniously at a rudimentary ferry “dock”. Before long a small ratty ferry drops its ramp and we all crowd on, people cars motorcycles etc. It was glacially slow, but thankfully not far and it turned out we were going to be staying on an island with few amenities.
It is very much like Puerto Rico here except that signs are in Sanskrit and the women wear colorful saris. In fact, this area was settled by the Portuguese (famous for Vindaloos) around the 1500s around the same time as PR. Many Christian churches too. We visited a few yesterday.
Back to our arrival. Finally the driver stops at a small house and out walks Fabien, my French connection. He is under 30 and doesn’t smile. It turns out the electricity is out. And the bedding smells of mildew. No mosquito nets and lots of holes to the outside. And it is getting dark and we are tired and hungry. So we lie down in separate rooms. A tear falls from my eye, but just one. I am thinking, I cannot stay here, what to do. Fabien isn’t finished with the place but it is spare and has the beginnings of beauty. I don’t want a cold shower.
I hear Misty telling him she can’t stay there. She comes into my room and tells me this and I am so relieved I could kiss her. I wholeheartedly agree and she is relieved! So we ask Fabien to get us a hotel in town. Very expensive and booked high season, but he does. His Columbian girlfriend, Christina is compassionate: she felt the same way we do when she first arrived from Paris.
In desperation Fabien calls the French people with whom I was going to stay the last two days. He takes me over on his motorbike, whew, to see their place. They stay home from visiting friends to accommodate us. When I walked up to Mukti and Remy’s big Portuguese house I felt immediately at home. They are early fifties and Mukti was so warm. She is Indian but has lived in Paris for a decade, very educated. Their place is fully and beautifully renovated with spacious rooms and a huge kitchen, where I’ll have a class.
I want to stay with them. So Fabien brings Misty over. She is NOT smiling. The Marriott is $300 a night, which I don’t want to pay, it is 8PM and I’m exhausted and hungry. So we stay.
The next morning Misty is back to herself. She’s been looking at the book of Hampi where is wants to take the overnight bus. Mukti advises her to go a day early as the site is huge and tiring. So we eat a few chapattis and tea and head out to the nearest small town where Misty can get tickets. We spend time doing errands, eating lunch and at a small fabric shop that sells cotton from Pune, it’s the homespun Khadi fabric that Gandhi-ji encouraged everyone to wear. Mukti is from Pune. She buys fabric, designs women’s clothing Indian style from it and takes the clothes back to Paris and sells them as she said, “like a Tupperware party”.
I left Misty to her trip and returned to my lovely sanctuary and a great dinner prepared by the Gass’s cook. Spicy mackerel cakes, chapattis made with a local millet, a lightly spiced and cooked green papaya dish and a dish made with a vegetable that looked like tiny cucumbers. Plus a dal. Sigh, so good! And the conversation was enlightening. We talked about food, India and Indians, my driver Mr. Vishnu, Fabien and how he has no electricity because he didn’t want to pay the bribes and now has a bad reputation with the local electrical board (after his former girlfriend went in and threw a fit). Remy told me a lot about India and the class system and how it is living on the island amongst the people and the corrupt corrupt government.
(I packaged up Misty and my lunch leftovers and dropped them to one of the more forlorn looking dogs at the island ferry dock. She has long droopy teats and bits of hair missing, but very intelligent eyes. Lots of “island” dogs here. Few are owned or cared for much like PR and Bali. I cry inside every time I see one. They are worse than the beggars, of which I have seen few.)
My health is fine, I'm loving it here. Getting an ayurvedic massage today.
I'll post photos eventually. Too busy right now. Love to all.
Nancy
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Less Than a Week
It's down to less than a week now. I've been trying to stuff what I "need" in a small bag. Thankfully Misty, my travelling partner decided to bring a video camera and needed room for the tripod. So we have a third case between us.
First stop will be Delhi on 15 December. Misty wisely booked us two nights there before we go to Goa on the SouthWest coast. Most of our accommodations are homestays, which will allow us to mingle with Indian folks much more.
Think of us leaving Traverse City on 14 December at 2PM.
Here is a map of India so you can watch our progress: http://www.wordtravels.com/images/map/India_map.jpg
Dehli
Goa
Kochi/Cochin in Kerala
Madurai in Tamil Nadu
Chennai
Delhi
Varanasi and nearby Sarnath and Jabalpur
Delhi (with sidetrip to the Taj Mahal
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