The Bull Temple, B'lore retirees, and the Hash Club

This weekend was meant to be relaxing... I had no plans and was going to read, shop, and rest. Well, Saturday morning Aunty and I are drinking coffee and she decides she's going to take me to the Bull Temple. It's a famous spot in Bangalore and everyone I've told is surprised I hadn't been there already. In the temple is a huge bull, at least ten feet tall and probably closer to 15 feet long and wide, all carved out of a single stone. It's unbelievable. So massive and daunting, yet the black stone bull is beautifully carved with decoration and also covered with flowers in the front. It's really amazing to see. We walked around it, Aunty did a puja, and then she marked me with the red from prayer! (Do you see the dots between our eyebrows in the photo?) We're sitting just outside the bull's room, though still in the temple because you're not supposed to leave right after you finish praying.

Later on that day I went with Saras to a talk on 'zero waste' as a model for development and it was quite interesting. The presentation was highly flawed and their wasn't enough fact to support her ideology, but I was intrigued nonetheless. After realizing over the past few months how much we consume at home, whether it be grocery bags or sweaters, I think it's going to be more difficult to leave India than I thought. Although the U.S. pattern of purchase and consumption is quickly coming here, there's still a level of cognizance about the environment among the elite do-gooders here that I don't feel is as widespread at home as it should be. Not that India is perfect. Far from it for sure.

Anyway, after my environmental awakening and some tough questions that threw the speaker a bit off balance, I headed home for an evening of cards with the 65+ crowd. As Matt said, it's like I was living in the "Golden Girls." Over the past few weeks Aunty's friends Uma and Asha have been teaching me to play Rummy their way and I've actually managed not to lose too badly. These women are vicious! They're really good at discarding just the things you don't need and trying to throw off your game so you have no chance to win. But on Saturday the husbands were there and we had a great time drinking cocktails and eating samosas and these spicy crispy snacks called chukli that I can't describe, but the ladies kept forcing me to eat. By the time everyone left and we sat down for dinner at 10pm I was a little drunk and very excited about being able to retire one day. They have so much fun that playing rummy with everyone was like a living advertisement for how great retirement can be.

This morning, Sunday, I woke up feeling only mediocre (the 65+ group can really drink!) but was quickly introduced to the Hash Club. No, not the hash you roll in paper and smoke, but an exercise club started by ex-pats from the UK in Kuala Lumpor in the 1930s. They met for a jog to explore the new place and then afterwards went for drinks and food to a bar called Hash House. As the 'hashers' spread around outside Kuala Lumpor, they took their jogging and drinking with them and now there are Hash Clubs in 180 countries. So around 11am one group went for a run and the rest of us went for a five mile walk through the hills. It was a really nice path on someone's farm outside of Bangalore and it was such a nice way to get in some exercise. Apparently they go every other weekend for the walk/run, but always afterwards there's lots of beer and food. They also have a crazy tradition of making people sit on huge blocks of ice for random reasons. Among the reasons we had to sit on the ice today - being new (me), calling too many times to ask for directions to the farm, asking a dumb questions, not being able to follow the trail, etc etc. When you sit on the ice block they take some time to embarrass you so your tush gets really wet and cold and then they sing a drinking song I haven't heard since Australia and they make you drink the mug or wear it. For lots of people it ended up being both... after the beer was half drank during the song someone invariably went up and tipped the cup so the beer went all over their face and down their clothes. They also had a bucket of cold water that only the worst offenders had to sit in (this time the lady who ran too fast for the group). It was so much fun that I will definitely be investigating to see if there are any hash clubs near home.

The weekend is nearly over now and my relaxing two days turned out to be busy and surprisingly really fun. Now just two and a half weeks until I go home and I'm getting excited. I can almost taste the raw lettuce

Some random thoughts

Sericulture (silkworm production) in a village about 2 hours south of Bangalore

Hello, I don't have too much to say today, but I wanted to say hi and give a brief update. The past few weeks have been going quite well, so well in fact that I've flirted with the idea of staying here a bit longer to finish out my four months of internship. But alas, I miss bagels and lox and have been told it's really expensive to change a plane ticket halfway through the trip so the plan to come home hasn't changed.

Despite how great the last few weeks have been, I'm disappointed in the status of women both in India and throughout parts of Asia. Last weekend I read The Bookseller of Kabul (an amazing book, by the way!) and felt so blue when I realized that even now in a country just next door women are treated as garbage. They're made to be servants in their own home, married off without any regard to their opinions, and actually punished for expressing any emotion beyond consent.
In India, they've just elected their first female president (perhaps setting a precedent for us at home??) and she covers the back of her head with her sari 'out of respect,' though I wonder out of respect to whom. I don't know too many women who mind seeing another woman's hair. And on the news a few days ago I heard two different reports from two different states in India about 10 and 20 fetuses being found in mass 'graves.' Under closer examination they realized that all the fetuses were female and they reported that of the 12 health facilities with ultrasound/sex determination capabilities in one of the states, only one was legally registered. As much as we work to give girls opportunities, there's little we can do to change people's minds about the values of sons versus daughters. I can in some strangely rational world, it's cheaper for some people to pay for a sonogram and an abortion than the burden of a daughter. Sad.

But on to happier topics... I'm coming home in three weeks and can't wait. I'll be in DC primarily until mid-September, though after that I'm unsure where I'll be working. Wish me luck finding a fall internship!

Hampi

Sorry it’s been so long since the last post. The internet connection at the office has been crummy at best and I’m having trouble finding time after work to visit the internet cafes. Anyway, time to talk about Hampi! This past weekend I went on a fabulous adventure with some of the volunteers from work and some other people working in B’lore who are friends of Naomi, a volunteer with me at Belaku. Hampi is an old capital of the Vijayanagar Empire that ruled southern India between ~1300 and ~1500. The empire was sacked in the mid-1500s by the Mughals who came down from central Asia and what’s left that the Mughals did not destroy is extraordinary.

The town Hampi reminded me a bit of Greece with its rocky hillsides and goats running around the roads and hills. The entire area was littered with huge boulders that were just begging to be climbed, though most of them seemed to be mocking gravity by staying perched just so. The actual town center was fairly typical – dirty, dusty, and too many flying bugs near the food. Something about it was charming though, and I really enjoyed the weekend.

We left Friday night and took the overnight train from Bangalore to a small town called Hospet, from where we took autorickshaws the ~15 kms to Hampi. The train ride was actually really fun after I got over my tears at seeing only Indian toilets at our end of the train car. I used lots of antibacterial gel this trip, but I’m actually starting to be converted to the benefits of the Indian loo… you don’t have to touch anything so in nasty public places it can actually be cleaner than a western toilet. But seeing as Eric doesn’t want to hear anymore about toilets, on with the weekend. Three of us got in each rickshaw plus three suitcases and it was quite a crowd. We found ourselves in strange positions throughout the drive with suitcases hanging precariously off the back and sides of the rickshaw.

But once we checked into our surprisingly decent hotel, $4 per night per room!, I had the most amazing cold mug and bucket shower. I never thought throwing a bucket of cold water over me would feel so good, but it did wonders for all the train dirt I'd accumulated overnight. The group of us then decided it would be really fun to rent scooters and ride around to all the sites. Hampi's ruins are spread out nearly 20 kilometers around the town and there's so much to see that everyone who'd been there before recommended renting some sort of bike to get to all the sites. I asked about helmets and the other people shushed me because it was pretty clear that there was no possible way to rent a helmet. We didn't see anyone in town even wearing them. The hypochondriac in me went a little overboard and I had terrible visions of us getting hit by crazy trucks, but everything turned out ok. We did, however, get a very loud and angry lecture from Saras, when she saw the pictures, about how we're never allowed to go on scooters again, with or without helmet. Back in Hampi though, I tried driving a little on the empty roads outside of town, but between having to stay on the left side of the road and having to keep the bike upright it was all a little much. So another volunteer Aditya drove our bike, it was two per bike, and did a very nice job keeping us upright and on the road despite my deathgrip on his backpack for most of the ride.

The ruins we saw were just incredible. They looked very much like some of the Greek and Roman ruins, though they're obviously many years younger. It was clear how viciously the Moghals had destroyed the capital when I realized that these ruins that looked so much like ancient Greece were only about 500 years old. We went to so many temples and they were quite beautiful, though by the 8th temple they started to blur together. The group leader, the only person who'd been to Hampi before, decided that it was too far to go back to town for lunch and we should just buy an ice cream from the kiosks that never seemed to appear. I was not happy to be hungry, tired, and at the 9th temple, but seeing as I didn't know where I was I didn't have a choice to go off on my own. We found a banana and coconut vendor from whom we bought some fruit and though it was delicious, it wasn't quite enough to make up for being tired of sightseeing three hours before we were actually done.

That night when we were finally done with all the temples, we went to a lovely place for dinner where we sat outside on the stone floor and had really delicious dinner. I don't understand all the fuss about eating outside (so many bugs!) or sitting on the floor (a thin straw mat does not make it more comfortable!), but the food was heavenly so it was all worth it. We shared a slew of Indian dishes, all vegetarian and rich and delicious, and for desert I had nutella pancake which is essentially nutella crepe. It was one of the best meals I've had out since I got to India.

The next day we saw another slew of temples, a queen's bath, and some really pretty gates. Mostly we just rode around and enjoyed the scenery and tried to avoid sunburn and mosquitos. The train ride back Sunday night was exactly how I imagined train rides in India to be... we all crammed together in the compartment and stayed up for hours telling stories and laughing. It was great!

A slice of humility with my toast

Hello and greetings from my laptop that has finally been connected to the office internet! It only took six weeks and was the single greatest force in getting me to adapt to the Indian lifestyle...a tad bit slower than life at home. Anyway, this picture is the daughter of one of the women who works at Deepa (the block printing group). She was running around the work site yesterday when I was there and I couldn't resist taking her picture because she just looked so adorable.

I wanted to tell a little about what I learned this morning about Lalita, the woman who cooks for the Simhas and me. Aunty Simha was sitting with me at breakfast and decided to tell me Lalita's 'story,' which was actually a little bit heart wrenching. When she first came to work for the Simhas five years ago she's recently left her alcoholic husband after she got tired of being used as a punching bag. The man would steal Lalita's earnings and drink too much and finally she had the guts to defy her mother-in-law (the true powerhouse of any Indian family) and leave her husband. She took her two children and moved in with her mother and brother who were very supportive. Lalita can't read nor write and the Simha's actually had to teach her to cook when they hired her. The Simha's decided to pay for Lalita's children's education provided she promise not to pull her daughter out of school before she's 18. That's actually a big problem, even in the cities, and especially in poorer families - girls get married off anywhere after ~age 10, though sometimes even younger. Thankfully the youngest marriages typically only happen in the villages and are more common in the north, but leaving school to get married is still fairly normal. The women who get married at very young ages usually don't move in with their husbands until 'prastha,' which is usually after age 16. Unfortunately for Lalita, her brother is getting married soon and if he decides their mother's house is too crowded for his new wife with Lalita and her children, he has the authority to kick them out.

Aunty Simha and I started talking about girl's education and she told me that a few years ago she and some of her family were so frustrated with the situation of girls in India that they started a charity to sponsor education. They adopt children, girls and boys, and cover their school fees and require that the parents promise not to pull the kids out of school before they're 16. It costs 5000 rupees per year (about $125) for one child's education, though one could donate any amount to the charity's kitty.

After meeting a coworker's cook, Shyla, and learning that her situation was almost the same as Lalita's (minus the guts to leave the husband), I realized how badly I wanted to give young girls a chance to have better prospects than their mothers. So in that regard, I'm going to use my blog for good and solicit donations or commitments to sponsor children. The Simhas are good people, the charity has virtually no administrative costs, and I really believe that the money goes to one a good purpose. Education for girls is one of the few things that I still truly believe in and if you're interested too, send me an email and I share more details.

Food. Of course

Hello! Things in Bangalore are actually going well. Once I realized I had less than six weeks to go, it felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders and I've been able to enjoy things more. I have tons of work that needs to be done before I can go home so the urgency is a good motivator and it's nice to have such a long to-do list.

When I realized I didn't have too much time left here, I started planning my cooking lessons with the Simhas. It turns out that Mr Simha, Anil, is a better cook than Mrs Simha, though I'm not sure it matters because they have a woman who comes in six mornings a week to prepare food for the day. Anyway, this came out as I was begging "aunty' (that's what I'm supposed to call her) Simha to teach me to make dal and she confessed her inability and Anil stepped in for the lesson. So Saturday morning we set up for my first lesson to make Toor Dal.

Toor dal is made from yellow split peas with a mix of ginger, tomato, and chilies. While all that's cooking, you fry spices up separately and the kitchen starts to smell amazing. In Anil's dal he puts fenugreek (no idea how that's spelled), coriander seeds, turmeric, cloves, and lots of garlic. There's no measuring, though the spoons they have in their huge spice jars are actually those pink plastic ones from Baskin and Robbins so if I can snag a few of those I may be able to replicate the dish. My notes have quite a few 'a few spoons of...' and 'a slice about the size of the knife handle...' so it's going to take a bit of practice before it comes out right. We ate the dal for dinner and I thought it was really tasty so with any luck they'll let me practice this week and try it myself.

I've also begged them to teach me to make my favorite dish here called Rajma, which is just the Hindi word for kidney bean. It's a simple dish with just the beans and loads of spices. If there's time, they make a nice spinach and garlic dish and also do some amazing things with these beans that are a cross between a snow pea and a string bean. The vegetable selection here is amazing and it will be such a shame to lose access to all this new foods when I go home. One good thing is that the Simhas lived for a few years in Springfield, Virginia so they keep telling me about Indian markets in the area and places where I can get the best spices and produce at home. Now if only I can get directions more specific than 'down the big road by the mall, at the red sign by the stoplight.'

In other interesting news to report, Indian food here in Bangalore doesn't have too much in common with the Indian food we eat in the states so everything I learn to make will be quite different from the things we're used to at home. The Simhas are vegetarian so our dinners typically consist of a dal (which is made from lentils, peas, or some wheatberry type of thing that I've yet to find a translated), a vegetables or two, chapati (a bread that tastes a little like matza and feels just like tortilla), and maybe rice or cracked wheat. Everything has so much spice and flavor and as long as there's not too much curd in the dishes, I like just about everything. Breakfast is usually a bowl of papayas, bananas, and pomegranate seeds; idly (a rice based pancake/biscuit); yogurt (which I've managed to avoid); boiled eggs; and some muesli/granola type of thing. It's quite good and everything but the muesli is always very fresh. The bananas here are also amazing! The really small ones are divine, sweet and creamy, but firm and have a flavor that's definitely still banana, but not like anything I've had before at home.

And with that, it's about lunch time and I'm feeling very hungry.
xoxo julie

Back to Bangalore

Oh Bangalore, how I did not miss thee.

You know it's going to be a long day when at the fourth security check before 8am you trip over your suitcase and twist your ankle in a way that sends you to the ground in pain. Way too much excitement for a Sunday morning. After a few delays though, I finally made it back to Delhi on Sunday afternoon. I limped my way to the airline counter to change my flight back to Bangalore to make it earlier and then got into a taxi and went straight to my favorite place in Delhi - the Park Hotel.

The limp was bad enough that people kept asking me if they could bring a doctor, but I so badly wanted to sit peacefully in the spa that I declined the help. I did, however, discover one 0f the most amazing things about India. Manicures cheaper than even the Vietnamese salons in DC!!! I ended up choosing a manicure, pedicure, shampoo, haircut, and blow-dry that totalled, including tip, less than $55. Unbelievable. They massaged my head, neck, and shoulders during the shampoo and then had two people hovering during the blow-dry, one for the brush and one for the dryer. It felt plush, to say the least. Then it was time for my pedicure and this man scrubbed my feet better than anyone else has ever before. I kept apologizing because I didn't envy the man... I'd just spent a week in the mountains wearing flip flops almost everyday. Couldn't have been an easy job. He was scrubbing with such vigor that the manicurist had to stop and wait because my whole body was shaking. Not to mention all the screaming I did when he touched my ankle the wrong way. I felt slightly bad for the other people in the spa, but the man was just not being gentle!

After that luxury I went down to the cafe for brunch and had this fantastic mezze platter and I had the strangest feeling of not really being in India. Sadly, the feeling ended on the drive to the airport (though I got to ride in an Ambassador, one of those fabulous cars that looks like it was taken off the set of Lassie).

Of course my flight to Bangalore was delayed and when we finally got on the plane it was so unbearably hot that I felt like I was suffocating. The flight attendants told us there was a glitch and that as soon as the plane took off the ac would go into full effect. Well, that wasn't enough for the annoying lady next to me who demanded to be let off the plane becuase she had high blood pressure and couldn't fly 'like this.' There was some misunderstanding and they ended up taking EVERYONE off the plane and loading us onto Jet Airways buses where we sat on the runway right next to the plane for an hour. Then they put us back on the same plane with the same heat with the same explanations about the ac turning on when we took off. At least this time we took off quickly and of course as soon as we were in the air things cooled off nicely.

Getting back to Bangalore gave me such a visceral shock. It was dirty and polluted and the baggage carousels were too small and the line for a pre-paid taxi stretched through most of the arrivals hall and only one man was working the counter. Then to actually get into a taxi you had to wait in another line right next to all the honking and fumes and I realized there really was a difference in the honking in Delhi and Bangalore. In the north they still honk a lot but they're quick honks and don't make you wish you had ear plugs. In Bangalore, however, they seem to hold down the horn just to let everyone know who's where. If you pass another car on the road it's as though there's a rule you have to hold down the horn until you've passed. Madness.

But here I am, survived the journey and am back to work. I went to Saras's house last night and finally made her hamantashen cookies. She was so surpised that they actually were as good as I told her they'd be that I had to make a second batch because the first one got eaten before they'd even had time to cool. She even emailed mom to thank her for sending me the recipe and asked for recipes for more Jewish/NYC sweets.

That's all from here. Wish I could upload pictures but my laptop is determined to misbehave at the coffee shops with wireless and I'm not sure how to fix it.
Cheers from India. Only six weeks to go!