Still here in India, Alive and Well!

It's been a while since my last post. I have been busy, travelling a bit, hanging with friends, practicing yoga and MAKING PLANS for adventures beyond Delhi!

I spent a weekend in Jaipur, the capitol city of the Rajasthan, a couple weeks back.  Japipur is dubbed the Pink City, as ages ago the stone in the main city center was painted pink to depict a more expensive stone.  They have continued to paint the city every ten years to uphold the reputation. (My details may be rough here, so I encourage you to google whatever interests you.) Jaipur is best known for several well-preserved/restored forts, Palaces, Mosques, as well as Jewelry and Block Printed fabrics.
We spent the better part of a day at Amber Fort just outside of the city, technically in Amber, the original capitol city of Rajasthan.  It was really refreshing, as the air felt cleaner than in Delhi and there were mountains! Well, hills, I suppose.  But it was nice to see land rising and falling before me after being on flat ground for so long.  We chose to walk to the Fort from the Palace, which was fairly steep, but easily managed.  While riding a camel or an elephant up the backside was tempting, the walk up the frontside provided beautiful views of the Palace, the old city, and the hills all around us.  The guards in both the Fort and Palace were extremely laid back, and so we were able to climb walls, explore nooks and crannies, and even went in a dark passageway where the walls were covered with bats.  That shkeeved me slightly, and I even "eeked" a little, but I made it nonetheless...
The other somewhat frightening element to walk was the large monkey tribes/packs/gangs.  Since we made our way back down as the sun was setting, the monkeys were out in droves, and they are very territorial and known to be quite violent.  It's said that animals smell fear, and so I tried my best to just breathe and walk quickly.  Earlier, when the monkeys were perched nicely atop the palace walls I had been remarking on their extreme cuteness - babies holding tight to the underbelly of their mothers as they stolled along, and a baby monkey watching me closely and jumping around as I photographed it.  Yes, from a distance they were adorable, but running in my path, jumping around in the trees overhead, and eyeing us suspiciously as we passed was a bit freaky.
On Sunday, we made our way to the City Palace, which still houses the royal family - Singhs, maybe? It was less than impressive to me, although it holds quite a collection of weapons, clothing, photographs, mainly belonging to the family that still resides there.  Upon leaving the Palace, we were approached by a lovely auto rickshaw driver with excellent English.  He brought us to Jaipur's famous Lassi Wallah, and treated us to lassis, served in clay mugs made right next door.  That lassi was certainly the best I have had since arriving in India, probably because I watched him stir the curd in a large pot, and because they were served in clay mugs, and because there was a thick layer of curd on the top of the drink. 
Jaipur was interesting, and while the food leaves something to be desired, the Fort, the colors, and the shopping make it worth the trip.  I did make out with two pair of beautiful earrings - may have been taken for a ride, but it seems that's always the risk you run...

A couple weeks back I attended a big party in Gurgaon.  A friend had just returned from Canada, and threw a bash for family and friends.  It was an absolute blast.  Held on a big hotel lawn, it featured an enormous buffet with delicious food (or maybe I was just drunk and ravenous at 1 AM when we finally broke from dancing to eat), a dance floor featuring Bollywood hits, of course, and an open bar, for better or for worse.  I suppose I was a little underdressed, but I think that Westerners, and maybe more specifically Americans, have that reputation around these parts. I don't even have make-up here aside from mascara, so that's obstacle numero uno when it comes to dressing the part. Obstacle two would be the lack of a Sari, and the inability to tie the darn thing if I had one. However, neither of said obstacles prevented me from having a ball dancing the night away to hits including "Om Shanti Om" and "Desi Girl". Thrown in the mix were a few Western hits.  Afterall, what kind of party would it be without Akon and Journey?
Hands ceased to twist and hips stopped shakin' to the B'Wood greats not a second earlier than the DJ packed up his gear.  And it wasn't until this point, 1 AM, that we devoured food from the buffet.  I ate brains. That's right. I was tricked, and I had brains.  I am not sure from which kind of animal they came, but perhaps I am smarter for it now. (Bad joke, I know.)

The morning of the bash, I spent in Lodhi Gardens, first practicing yoga with a group from the yoga studio I frequent, and then eating a delicious breakfast at the outdoor Lodhi Restaurant. We set down our mats before one of the main Mughali tombs in the garden, and so everytime we came into upward facing dog, we were opening our hearts to this amazing ancient structure. And the world was waking up around us.  People were doing their morning exercises, prayanam and chanting.  The fog was just starting to lift and the sun was peeking through as we were rising out of Savasana.  It was a powerful practice, especially being surrounded by so many of  the lovely hearts I have met in India. 
My practice in Lodhi restored some balance into my life.  With changing weather, upcoming holidays and many travels in my near future, I have been feeling a little off kilter, a little homesick perhaps.  I was feeling a little like I lack roots right now, which is wonderful in so many ways, but a little disorienting all the same. My yoga practice reminds me to stay focused on the moment, to keep my heart open, to "breathe, believe, receive. it's all happening."  I have a tendency to get ahead of myself, and yoga reminds me to be where I am.  And most days I feel I am able to carry what I conjure in class off the mat and into the world.  And this was one of those days.  It was, in one word, lovely.

Recently I was able to solidify most of my plans for travelling beyond Delhi.  I am a little nervous about it, not because it is frightening or unsafe, but because it means moving on from something safe and solid - the community and life I have created for myself here in Delhi.  But the fabulous part is that I have Delhi throughout my journey.  I can always come back, stay a while and be on my way again.  This is comforting. 
In just a few days, I am heading to Kullu to stay with my Aunt Raani, which is just so exciting. I will be there for a week, including Thanksgiving.  I am looking forward to getting out of the city and onto higher ground. Kullu is near the Himalayas, so we will hike and breathe in clean air.  My aunt studies meditation with a Guru there, so I will join her to do Pranayama in the mornings (5 AM!!!), and practice meditating. That's a skill that needs honing for certain! We will have a big dinner with her friends for Thanksgiving, which I imagine will be much different from the traditional turkey feasts we have at home, probably Vegetarian! And then every Thanksgiving I will remember when I had a turkey-less Thanksgiving in India. (Aside from the early Thanksgiving we are having here on this Thursday while Steve's parents are in town...)
I return to Delhi for 2 weeks before taking off to Thailand to meet Mike (a dear friend from high school).  We will spend 11 days in Phuket (Beaches - yay!!) and 4 days, including Xmas, in Bangkok. Mike has been an excellent planner, booking hotels and such.  We are travelling around quite a bit, maybe on motorbikes!
After Thailand, I will spend January in and out of Delhi.  Friends will be visiting from the US for various purposes, so I plan to do some travel with them, and with anyone else who wants to avoid what is said to be the worst month in Delhi.
In February I head to Bangalore and then to Mysore to study at the Jois Astanga Institute.  That's the plan anyway, if my application goes through.  Otherwise it's back to the drawing board.
Mid March to Mid April, I will spend on an Ashram in Haridwar, volunteering at an orphanage and school.  It is a really exciting time to be in the Rishikesh area, as the Kumbh Mela is taking place, which only happens every twelve years! It is a huge festival that draws millions.  I guess it could go either way on the "exciting scale" with that many people converging on one place. I will report back and let you know. 

As for Delhi life, the weather is changing.  It is cooler in the mornings and evenings. I wear a pullover to yoga in the morning, and a shawl, partly to cover my mouth and protect my lungs from the exhaust that gets spewed into my rickshaw, but also for warmth.  The fog is thick in the mornings, but the sun makes its way through eventually.  The smog is quite painful, literally. I think running will absolutely have to go on hold. The chest pains just aren't worth it. 
Tonight I am heading out to a farmhouse with a group of friends to see the Leonid meteor shower.  Apparently India is the place to be for it this year, so we are hoping the smog will not be such that we can't enjoy the show. Fingers crossed we aren't awake into the wee hours of the morning for nothing!

Namaste, friends.

Happy Diwali!

Diwali was on Saturday ( http://wikipedia.org/wiki/Diwali ). It still felt like a war zone with all the firecrackers going off last night and I may very well go into a sugar coma from all the Indian sweets I have consumed. In case you don't feel like taking a trip to the wikipedia link I provided, the basic jist of Diwali is that it celbrates the homecoming of Rama after a 14 year exile in the forest.  More importantly, it is a celebration of lights, and of good conquering evil.
So, lights.  Firecrackers, mostly.  Insane amounts, and it all started about a month ago.  When I would hear the random shots going off during the early evening, I assumed it was some sort of bird control measure. Then I realized that they were firecrackers.  Kids would hide them in the trees in the park in the evening, and then take off running as the explosions went off.  The locals didn't seem rattled at all.  Such is life leading up to Diwali, I suppose. 
The more beautiful and calmer side of the Diwali lights are the house decorations.  Much like Christmas, homes are lit up with colored lights, white lights, real candles burning, and beautiful flower garlands, mostly bright orange marigolds. I spent some time on Friday night, Diwali Eve, if you will, driving around checking out the lights everywhere. It felt like Christmas, sans snow and Christmas trees, of course, but festive nonetheless.

And then Saturday came: the real Diwali. Fireworks started just after dark.  The tradition is to decorate your home with candles and diyas (small clay pots with wicks and oils) and make rangoli (beautiful arrangements of plucked flower petals and dyed rice flower and cool designs: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/rangoli ).  Families generally have a puja (dress up and honor their God/s in a celebration), and then return outside when it's dark to light their candles and shoot off fireworks.  The firecrackers went off until past 1 AM where I was in Gurgaon.  They were beautiful, spanning across the skyline of haphazardly sprouted Gurgaon office and apartment buildings.  Just when it seemed a grand finale went off, another equally impressive show began. The noise, however, felt like we were in a war zone, particularly the non-stop explosions from the park next to the building I was in (avoiding the explosive mayhem, thank you very much).  At one point, the stand from which men had been shooting fireworks was on fire, and explosives were shooting off sideways, hopefully missing all the children who were running wild around the place.  Needless to say, the playground and grass was covered in ash and paper, as was the whole city.  That and a layer of smoke. An environmentalist's worst nightmare...

Indian sweets may well be the death of me. Think ghee (CLARIFIED butter...butter sans the animal protein = pure FAT), sugar, and gram (chickpea) flour usually and often COCONUT it's like heaven in your mouth.  But so totally addictive.  Our neighbors downstairs gave us the most delicious selection. I just couldn't stop. Went to bed with a belly ache. Woke up with a belly ache. No more sweets. There must be Indian sweet shops in NYC or Boston or San Fran, so for those of you who are feeling adventurous, my faves are: Patisa, Boodni Ladoo and Coconut Burfi.

A more spiritual experience of my Diwali took place at my yoga studio, The Yoga Studio (have I mentioned how much I LOVE this place...?) Katie and I took the girls, and headed out with my friend Beth and her two children (children are invited, welcomed, encouraged EVERYWHERE in India, by the way) to the studio for a puja of sorts.  We each brought a candle and lit it on an alter upon arrival.  The studio was entirely lit by candlelight, as our teachers led the group of about 30 in 108 (an auspicious number in many religions - the number of beads on a mediation necklace, rosary, etc.) recitations of the Gayatri Mantra, the same prayer we open our yoga classes with. It is a beautiful mantra, having many translations based on the text you follow, but generally it is a prayer to God (whoever/whatever that may be to you) asking for enlightenment, guidance, inspiration, etc. 
The ceremony was followed by a delicious vegetarian meal prepared by the teachers.  We ducked out a little on the early end, as we had some tired kiddos with us.  The experience was moving, and it was nice to participate in a celebration of Diwali without lighting up explosives (although they could be heard outside throughout our chanting...)

The weather has changed quite dramatically here.  It is growing cooler in the evenings, and we can actually walk around outside during the day without keeling over from heatstroke.  My friend and I took the girls to Lodhi Gardens yesterday where we explored the ruins, running up and down stairs and sneaking into little nooks and crannies.  Then we ate lunch OUTSIDE, in the open air, and we weren't even sweating.  It was fantastic!  I am told that this weather will last until mid-late November, and then we will be enveloped in the winter fog, and much cooler temperature will descend upon us through January.  I keep trying to get an idea of how cold it will really be, and from what I gather, it is not so much about the cold itself, but that the homes are designed to be cooler in the hot weather.  Lack of central heating, high ceilings, and tile floors make for more comfortable digs when it's 115 degrees outside, but it means that it is generally colder to be inside than out in the winter months. My mom always says, "No such thing as bad weather, just bad equipment." Bring on the Ibex!!

Oh! 9:30 AM, and already there are fireworks going off.  Oh, Delhi, how I love thee...

Southern Comfort

I recently returned from a FABULOUS trip to Tamil Nadu, in the Southeastern part of India. Katie, the girls and I went down Monday last, and Steve joined us on Saturday. We arrived in the region's major city, Chennai, after an easy 2.5 hour flight on Kingfisher and promptly made our way in an itty-bitty car to Pondicherry, about 2.5 hours again. After three days in Pondy, we did a quick scan of Auroville before making our way slightly north to an amazing eco beach resort (http://www.thedunehotel.com/) where we stayed 3 days. Our final 4 days were spent at the GRT Temple Bay resort in Mahabalipuram where Steve joined us.
That's the short synopsis. Read on, if you're interested in the details. Or don't.

Side note: I'll leave it up to you and your google skills to further investigate historical details or the like. My intention is to provide my impressions and accounts of my experiences in these places.

First Stop: Pondy

Pondy is a lovely place that blends bustling streets with markets, cows, scooters with a calm French quarter with elegant old buildings, tree-lined streets and funky boutiquey shops. There is an great diversity in language, religion and ethnicity. Western tourists and residents are adundant, particularly in the French quarter. (For more: http://tourism.pondicherry.gov.in/ )
We arrived in the late afternoon on Eid, a muslim holy day. The women were out in their elegant burkas, shimmering beads upon black silks. And the children were dressed in bright colors, sequins, and flowers tied into their braids. The wallahs on the beach sold cold channa and popcorn. We were in awe at the beauty of the whole scene. And the Indians were just as enamored with us. Schoolboys clamored on the rocks above where we were sitting, and called out "hello", demonstrating their English. One little boy said hello to me and asked, "how are you?". I responded, "I am well, and you?" He was already turned back towards his friend, and Katie said his mouth was agape and he was all smiles, having had communicated in English! It was very cute. At one point, a group of gorgeously dressed Muslims were walking toward us on the beach. They stopped and stared at us, and we at them. And at the same time we asked to take each other's photographs. It was a beautiful moment, like two worlds meeting. And really, it was almost just that.

(Side note: I found Kombucha in a small cafe on the beach. I was in hog heaven!!!)

We stayed in a quaint, historical hotel, Hotel Du Parc, in the French Quarter, about 2 blocks from the beach (not a swimming beach by any standard!), and across the street from some of the best South Indian food we had over the course of our trip. They had tandoori idly - yum!! The staff at our hotel was lovely, adored the girls of course, and the location was perfect. It was only lacking in the food department, so we chose from the many restaurants around the city. Katie had brought with us an article by one of her favorite NYT travel writers, and boy was he right on!
Katie and I were ready to rock and roll and see Pondy on our second day there. We decided to explore the large market in the center of the city, but bailed as soon as we hit the stinky fish market, as it was too much for the girls, and pretty similar to many of the markets we have explored in Delhi. We turned back and decided to spend our time in the French Quarter, which is nothing like Delhi. It is sprayed with cool boutiques, art galleries, and yummy little food joints. We began the day on foot, exploring churches and elegant old buildings. At one point we found ourselves in the beautiful courtyard of someone's home, thinking it was the Neemarana Hotel (famous heritage hotel chain). The shopkeeper of the boutique attached to the home misunderstood when we asked if we could go through the adjoining door to see the hotel. Her boss, and homeowner, quickly put the kaibash on that, and understandably so. Katie and I were thrilled to see the inside of one of the elegant, French style homes, though. It was quite something - elegant open air courtyard, exquisite art, fresh flowers everywhere...
We headed next to a Catholic Church, where we sat quietly on the pews. Katie pointed to the Crucifix at the front of the Church and whispered to Soph, "Do you know who that is?" Sophie nodded her head confidently and said, "Ghandi." (Katie did, by the way, give me permission to publish that in my blog.) I suppose it can be chalked up to Religious Confusion in a country where there are thousands of Gods worshipped by nearly a billion people.
It was upon departing the church that Charlotte did not look so well, and by the time we arrived at a neat little handicrafts store, she was barfing on the front steps, but more into Katie's quick-barf-catching hands (a well-practiced mother). The women at the shop were so helpful and wonderful. Charlotte recovered quite quickly, and we rented bikes as planned. Katie and I laughed about the future Charlotte - already honing her Puke-and-Rally skills. That and the hippy-hippy shake dance she's got going on....Katie and Steve are in for it with her!!
We rented the COOLEST bikes and rode around the tree-lined streets of the French Quarter until it was so dark that we literally could not see the road. Sophie sat on the basket rack on the rear of our sweet Pink and Purple ride. Charlotte had a special seat attached between Katie and the handlebars. It was perfect. We biked by the sea, and stopped into boutiques and had a lovely little lunch at a cafe owned by a French woman. Upon returning the bikes, we headed to an amazing South Indian restaurant (recommended by Katie's NYT guy - the Pondy Guru), where we ate to the point of painful tummies, but well worth it.

We left Pondy on Wednesday and headed through Auroville. It was an interesting place, about which I will not comment at length. Sophie and I walked out to the giant Golden globe, and saw the enormous bonsai tree. I think to truly understand what Auroville is about, one must stay there and discover it thorugh the eyes of a resident. This we did not do. Google if you're interested in knowing more about this utopian society that is Auroville...

We arrived at the Dune Eco Beach Resort, just north of Auroville, with enough time to hit the pool, the beach, and eat delicious food. Our bungalow, the Bangle house, was awesome and came with two bicycles which we road around the estate. The roads were all dirt, and meandered around all the beautiful (and sustainable) bungalows, past the spa, the cow farm, the llama, chickens, organic vegetable gardens, restaurant, pool, etc. It was the coolest resort I have ever experienced, and it really was the first REAL resort I had ever stayed at, so I suppose you think that's not saying much. But you see, I will forever compare resort experiences to that of the Dune.
You see, the Dune was blissful on all accounts. The food was incredible and healthy and fresh, and the chef came and talked to me and Katie at each meal to see what we were in the mood for and then cooked something specially for us. We always requested the freshly caught fish of the day, and he would create something beyond my wildest dreams. Coconut curries, ceviche, plaintains, and on and on. The whole staff was just lovely, as well. They were not overbearing, which is usually a problem in India where there are people who do everything for you, even when you would prefer to do it yourself. They were polite and accomodating and friendly. Katie and I each had relaxing Ayurvedic massages. I ran on the dirt roads, feeling at home as I passed the cows, and feeling euphoric as I passed the ocean. Oh, and feeling very much at home when the mosquitoes feasted on my legs!!

From Pondy, we headed to Mahabalipuram, which is a working fishing village en route to Chennai. We stayed at a much more conventional resort here, but lovely nonetheless. I loved that we had a calmer ocean in which to swim (Katie was the only one who went in the water in Pondy). Our first night at the resort, Katie and I ventured out to the town just a little ways down the beach. It was dark, and a little scary to be among the fishing boats and stray dogs, but we quickly found our way. Men were much more forward, and we even experienced a little bit of harrassment. I suppose they see many westerners who come through with backpacks and such, and so the dynamic is a little bit different. We ate dinner at a lovely little joint called "Le Yogi" where you removed your shoes and the entrance, and sat on meditation pillows at low tables. It was a sweet little place. We explored some more after dinner, and made our way home on the road. It is very different from Delhi, much more impoverished and underdeveloped.
Steve joined us on Saturday, just after an enormous buffet breakfast of everything you can imagine. Traditional Indian breakfast, fresh juices, yogurt, sausages, pancakes, toast, soup, dessert...it was all there. The girls were on cloud nine. I mean, chocolate chip pancakes!?? Meanwhile Katie and I were worried about what they do with all the leftover food. We decided that in India, nothing goes uneaten. Whether they donate to the orphanages, or throw it in the dumpster, somebody will eat it. We did do take away each morning. Isn't that the number one no-no at a buffet? Ha.
We explored the temples and carvings that Mahabalipuram is famous for. The carvings date back to the 7th Century. I had never seen anything so old. They were quite impressive and beautiful, depicting Gods, and myths and stories, and representative of many different faiths. The weather was insanely hot, however. The photo I just recently uploaded behind my blog title is of me with a carving of Lord Krishna and his harem, and the dark spots on my middle are sweat. The breeze was not blowing through the ancient Mahabalipuram. Luckily we were able to return to a resort with a gorgeous breeze...
I was able to run on the beach one day, followed by a marvelous dive into the sea to cool down. The humidity was hard to bear, as was the steep slope into the water, but I made it work. I imagined that I was running along Carmel Beach, and up the cliffs through Pebble Beach, simultaneously tuning into the world in which I was running. I passed fisherman, and women carrying loads on their heads. I passed shabbier or completely run down "resorts", and fields from which locals appeared to dive in the water, or sit on the sand. I even passed another westerner who was also running!

On Monday, Katie and Steve and the girls continued on with their vacation to Kerala. I stayed at the resort, soaking up as much sunshine and breathing in as much clean, salty air as I could before heading to the airport and returning to Delhi. The fresh air and breezes were certainly a lovely treat, but it felt good to return home, and to know that Delhi really is my home...

...for now.

Namaste.

The Delhi grind

I head to Tamil Nadu tomorrow with Katie and the girls for 8 days, with Steve likely joining us for the last 3.  We may shoot down to Kerala from Tamil Nadu and do a week there, but that is yet to be determined.  It will be a lovely break from the hustle and bustle of the city life. I am sure I will have a lot to blog about upon our return. 

In the meantime, Delhi life is, well, Delhi life.  The temperatures have dropped to bearable, but it's still hot, hot, hot.  Sun shines daily, aside from three days of downpours, which ruined many roads, and flooded some neighborhoods entirely.  Needless to say, the drought is over, and our seasonal rainfall expected was reached.  However, the flooding wreaked havoc on the whole city and I found myself stranded in Gurgaon.  If anyone has read The White Tiger (which I highly recommend), the picture in your mind of Gurgaon is likely not so flattering.  A concrete jungle, really, underwater.  Apparently the flooding affected US companies across the board, as I received an email from Sara regarding delays on Ernst and Young projects due to the Delhi/Gurgaon rain. Imagine a New England snowstorm, or better yet, a freak snowstorm in the South where they have no plows or means to deal with the snow, and so their whole world shuts down temporarily. It was quite something!

Last week, I went to a dinner party at a family's home in Gurgaon.  The hostess is from Kerala, and she made the most delicious Keralan food.  It was heavenly...rice with cashews and coconut milk, a chicken curry, veg curry, spiced mutton (lamb) and more. It was so delish!! I love the South Indian food, light and full of coconut and mostly rice based.  Katie and I have taken to the local Bhavans, government approved, or run (I'm not really sure) roadside eateries. So we've had street food, officially. And we're alive!! The Bhavans are frequented mainly by locals, and feature typical cuisines from around India. The one we went to most recently was South Indian, but I can't recall the specific area.  I have fallen in love with Masala Dosa, a rice and lentil pancake (crepe-like) spiced with masala and wrapped around a potato mixture.  And I love, love, love idlis, which small, round, steamed rice and lentil bread. The taste is reminscent of the Ethiopian teff flour bread, except they are not flat and thin. They are generally dipped in sambar, a spicy vegetable soup or in coconut chutney, both delicious. I also spread jam on them for breakfast, or dip them in a mixture of yogurt and coconut milk.  They are excellent, and easy to make using a mix and an idli steamer! If you get a chance to try South Indian food, do it.  The most common Indian cuisine in the States is North Indian, heavy on the dairy and flour, and they use the Tandoori oven to make things like naan or yummy chicken.

There are a couple of big holidays coming up soon.  Dussehra is at the end of the month, and is a celebration of good conquering evil, based around the Ramayana.  Google if you are interested. Sophie was in the Ramayana play at school, a very interesting to-do.  The kids were on stage for a little while, while an adult narrated the story, and then the audience shifted to a pyrotechnics display in the sandbox (did I mention that Sophie is in preschool...) where three large figures, the three bad guys from the story, were burned.  There are performances like this all over the city around this time.  Maybe I'll catch a more professional version at some point.
Devali or Dewali is the next big holiday (late October) and it is the Hindu equivalent to Christmas.  Apparently there are fireworks EVERYWHERE (I have been warned to stay inside, crouched low to the ground), and a lot of gambling.  And people buy new stuff, much like our Christmas, except they go big - new cars, appliances, furniture, homes. Okay, maybe that is like Christmas for some people in the states.  And of course there are sweets.  Indians love their sweets.  And they really mean sweet.  Too sweet for me, most of the time. 

Really exciting news: Julia Roberts is in town to film Eat, Pray, Love!   For those of you who know me well, the book by Elizabeth Gilbert on which this movie is based, is among my favorites.  If I weren't going out of town, I might just have to scope out the scene and find the Ashram in Gurgaon where filming is taking place. 

I think there is more that I intended to report, but I am drawing a blank.  Stay tuned for highlights of the Tamil Nadu trip...

Namaste.

Laugh it up.

Katie and I laugh a lot, at everything. If we didn't, we'd likely go crazy. While we sometimes find ourselves griping about some inane regulation or process, generally we just cope with boughts of giggles, throwing our heads back, unable to find words. It's the key to our survival here. Okay, maybe that's extreme. It's the key to the happiness that we are able to maintain 99% of the time. And we have met several expats who haven't had the same experience here, their faces practically turning white with shock when we enthusiastically proclaim, "We love Delhi!"

The other day we were getting quite slap happy (contributing factors: heat and fatigue) while embarking on an adventure to find furniture and hit up a big sale at one of our fave Indian home stores. The driving was insane, which doesn't phase us anymore, and there were the usual stares from EVERYONE at the two white people in the minivan (that would be us...) One of the green and yellow buses passed, and of course, all the men stared down into the car. We were on display like animals at the zoo. And so we simply laughed, and avoided making eye contact with the oglers. And meanwhile, cows were meandering throughout the three "lane" (nobody abides by the lines on the road, so there is generally just a mishmash of traffic - bicycles, cars, trucks, buses, wagons, rickshaws) road. Cows are like royalty here, and they know it! They sit and rest in the middle of the road, and cars honk, swerve to avoid them, and all is normal. Dogs, too, and remarkably they never seem to get hit! The wild boars and goat herds seem to have boundaries, and while the goats especially will approach markets and gnaw and chew on anything resembling food, they do a good job avoiding oncoming traffic. They deserve a medal.

In other news, I found a wonderful yoga studio in Haus Kauz, thanks to my dear friend from down the street, Beth! Classes are about 90 minutes, followed by coffee, tea and chatting - a real community feel. That's important to me in a studio, as well as good teachers and a supportive and loving group of students. The Yoga Studio, also known as Seema's Studio ( I think), is just plain lovely. I am so happy there. And it's only a 15 minute auto rickshaw ride away. The ride can get hot, and the fumes are pretty nasty, but otherwise it's quite easy. Though never without excitement, Katie and I were waiting at a traffic light yesterday, and a beggar passed by our auto carrying a huge snake. Luckily, there was already a man begging from us, so the snake man went to the next auto. I was almost in tears (I don't do snakes), and Katie looked back and reported that the man was holding the snake up to the face of the woman in the rickshaw behind us. I nearly had a heart attack, fearing that he would come to us next.

I have been able to run a little bit here, as long as I beat the heat in the morning, or head out in the evening. There isn't much land to cover, and the ambiance doesn't match that of the Charles River or Carmel Beach, but nonetheless it's nice to move. While once confined to the small park immediately oustide of our home, I have ventured into the neighborhood just a little. I go between the other E Block park, and often take the streets surrounding the parks. I wear apparel that is quite conservative for America - running shorts on the longer end, reaching all the way halfway down my thigh (!) and a looser t-shirt, as opposed to my preferred shoulder-baring tanks or a plain sport bra. I still draw loads of attention from the sole fact that I am actually running. Exercise, particularly in the great outdoors, is not the usual around here. My pace, outfit, activity is a far cry from the older women in their Saris or full Salwar Kameez, complete with dupata who stroll around the park path. I suppose I more closely resemble the Indian gentlemen who wear khaki shorts mid-way down their thighs, Reebok polo shirts, and tube socks pulled halfway up the calf who speed walk while chatting.
The guards and drivers and construction workers gawk and I think they might actually wonder what I am doing and why the hell I would possibly subject myself to uneccesary movement in humid heat and on dusty, bumpy, shit-covered streets! At first it made me a bit uncomfortable, but I bring my iPod, and stare straight ahead, or look down so to avoid the excrement from the various animals that roam the area.


I have been enjoying Delhi nightlife, finding myself out a couple of nights a week. Between house parties, restaurants, and clubs, I have met some really interesting people, danced, laughed, and even had a red bull and vodka to the tune of $30...that's right, folks: THIRTY AMERICAN DOLLARS! And you thought New York was bad! I also discovered that I must avoid Indian produced Smirnoff vodka when my face, neck and thighs errupted in hives after a drink or two. The friends I was out with told me very non-chalantly that I was having said reaction, and said they have other friends with the same sensitivity to the vodka. I tell ya, it's always something! I promptly switched to good ol' Jack Daniels, imported.
As I said in my last post, the music in many of the clubs often leaves something to be desired, however it is generally quite danceable. I find the Bollywood dance hits incredibly entertaining, and while I haven't totally let loose trying out my moves at the club, I did engage Sophie and Charlotte in an impromptu Bollywood dance party at the house last week. We often have dance parties, but the discovery of Jai Ho (Slumdog Millionaire theme song) on Steve's iPod took it to a whole new level. We bobbed our heads, twirled our wrists and did a little hippy hippy shake. Some more practice, maybe even lessons (Shweta??), and I will be able to showcase my talents at F Bar. HA!

While Delhi is just plain awesome, the girls, Katie and I are planning to head down to Tamil Nadu for the a week at the end of September. Tamil Nadu is a state in Southern India - Chennai, Pondicherry, Auroville may ring a bell. We will fly into Chennai, but per the advice of Lisa who lived there for a year, we will avoid it and head further south to check out temples, beaches, and of course relax a little. We'll check out Mahabalipuram and stay for a few days, and then head to Pondicherry, a french settlement with croissants as good as in Paris! We may even make it out to Madurai. It will be ab-fab, I am sure.

Namaste,
Emily

"When you realize how perfect everything is, you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky."
The Buddha

Main Emily hun. (I am Emily.)

Oy, where to begin. It's been a while since I last wrote, mostly because I've been busy or sick. There is no lack of inspiration, just a solid block of time to sit and blab. So here I am, hoping I can squeeze it all in before the girls get home from school...

While I would like to start with all of the neat things I have done or seen since my last post, I am distracted entirely by the most recent "beating" I have taken in . I woke up on Sunday morning with a minor rash on my legs, and it got progressively worse as the day wore on. I was convinced I had swine flu, even when assured that a rash that made my body feel like it would explode from the heat, is not a symptom. I woke up Monday morning looking like I had fallen asleep in a tanning bed after having been punched in both eyes, chin and cheeks. I decided that a visit to the doctor was in order. The doctor took one look at my swollen face, and then my rash, and asked if I had consumed any seafood in the past 48 hours. I had the most delicious sushi and shrimp on Saturday night, and he was adimant that this was the culprit. After 20 minutes with the doctor, 3 prescriptions from the in-hospital chemist and a meager payment of 700 Rupees ($14.00), I was on my way.
(Side note: What a novel idea to have a health care system that is affordable, efficient and accessible!)
I wish I could say that a little Allegra and heart burn medication (I know, what!?) did the trick and put me back on my feet, but alas, this is not my story. A far cry from it, in fact...
...Tuesday was painful. The rash developed over my entire body - from my scalp to the soles of my feet, palms of my hands - EVERYWHERE. Misery became me. I was totally perplexed as to what could possibly cause my whole body to revolt in such a manner. And I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty freaked out. Then my friend emailed to ask how I was feeling, and if I had, by any chance, eaten at Zest, the current Delhi hot-spot for dining. I had indeed enjoyed delicious food (and lime sodas spiked with our smuggled vodka - more on that later) at Zest. Turns out that his aunt, a fellow American expat, ate at Zest and had the same reaction! She and I commiserated, and then she led me to her dermatologist (apparently Delhi's best), where I was immediately put on prednisone (an oral steroid), among other things. We still don't know what caused the ailment, as we didn't seem to eat the same foods (she had avoided fish entirely). It could have been the handling of the food, or bacterial contamination that our systems were just not equipped to handle.
2 sleepless nights later, the rash has changed colors, to deep red and then purple, and has finally begun to subside somewhat, and my face is back to normal. I am almost out of the woods, I hope. I talk to the doctor each morning on his cell phone (yay for thorough health care!) and we assess the progress, alter medications, etc. If I'm lucky, I should be off the prednisone sooner than the original 7 days, and thereby, I should sleep again.
I have been quite happy here, but it is amazing how frequently I am suffering from some ailment or another - Delhi Belly mostly, and then this. I spoke at length with my aunt who lives in Northern India, and after about 20 years of 6 month-long visits, she is still meticulous about where her food comes from, never eating raw foods in restaurants, brushing her teeth with filtered water, etc. This most recent incident has been a wake-up call for me that I was getting too lax. I should not have eaten raw fish, and apparently no fish is good fish during the monsoons. I have reverted back to filtered water for teeth-brushing, and vow to only eat cooked foods at restaurants. I hadn't found a decent salad, anyway. Perhaps I will become a vegetarian for a while...

About 2 weeks ago, I was finally able to visit the Bahai Lotus Temple. It is an amazing building designed to look like a huge, white lotus flower. The grounds are beautifully maintained, and the building is surrounded by pools so that there is the feel of a lotus floating on a pond. The interior is enormous, with high ceilings making it open and airy. It is absolutely stunning.
My dear friend in Boston is Bahai, and so I tried to channel her energy when I entered the vast space. I felt an intense joy, and was overcome with the sort of emotion where you just want to jump and cry and shout. But that's not allowed at the temple, so I just walked and listened to the silence, so full and vibrant.

A couple weeks back, I signed up for a private yoga session at a local Ashram. I was the only westerner in sight, and even though the Swami said to wear whatever was comfortable, I probably should have gone baggy. Regardless, I had a semi-private session with him on the front lawn of the run down building, home to a gym, ayurvedic wellness clinic, yoga "studio". Picture a run down building with rickety fans, mismatched furniture, faded rugs, fronted with a yard lined with pomegranate trees.
This Swami turned me off immediately, touting his rigidly traditional technique, and shunning the westerners who have adapted yoga to be nothing more than aerobics. He told me, "I will change your life" and spouted off what an amazing human being he is, bragging about the people he's healed. All the while I'm thinking, isn't "ego" the antithesis of the practice of yoga? I'm all for "different strokes for different folks", but it didn't help me appreciate his teachings when he was making such broad generalizations about a "western" practice that I have come to love. He went on to give me a sampling of the asanas that he "teaches", all the while taking phonecalls on his cell, or yelling to the men working on the roof. It wasn't really the private session I had envisioned.
I suppose I should have known that a "private" session would mean something entirely different in India. There is no such thing as an empty street, a quiet moment to oneself, calm, open space. There are people everywhere in Delhi, all the time. You won't even find privacy in your home or your car, with the tradition of housekeepers and drivers! With that in mind, I took a deep breathe, and engaged in the practice as it was. But at the point the near-by couple began their "kriyas" (inner cleansing), I knew I just wasn't cut out for this. It wasn't the neti-pot - many of you know I use a neti-pot regularly for my sinuses. The induced vomiting was my breaking point. I don't do puking as it is, so watching a couple in their mid-50s shove their fingers down their throat aggressively and then gag, lurch and empty into the garden just yards from me was quite unsettling. I refused that portion of the practice, and politely thanked the guru before heading home. Needless to say, I haven't been back there.

Today, it is Tuesday, August 25. I began writing this post on August 21st, last Friday, but was interrupted by the early return on Sophie from school. She had severe Delhi Belly, so I spent the afternoon holding hair, rubbing her back, singing, snuggling, and raising, lowering, emptying and rinsing a barf bucket. Then, in the early evening, it suddenly broke. She was drinking water, and holding it down, and by the following morning she was back to her old self. Phew.

I finally left the house on Sunday, after being cooped up since the Monday prior with the worst rash I have ever experienced. I spent the day mostly in a pool and in the sun, which did wonders for the skin and spirit. I head back to the doc tomorrow to try to establish the cause. A part of me thinks it might have been "Mango Itch" (google if you're interested), as the mangos here are so fresh from the farm that they are covered in drippy sap. But this wouldn't explain the Zest factor, and the fact that my friend and I were both covered in the EXACT same rash, and had the same progression of symptoms after eating there. Just to be safe, I will stay away from mangoes for a while at least. It was all sort of a wake up call for me, as I think I was getting a little bit lax in the food and water department, and during the monsoon season no less. I have been eating cooked foods or raw veggies that have been bleached (I know, gross), and I reverted back to brushing my teeth with filtered water. Call me paranoid, but it's just always something, so I am going back to square one.

Katie and I started Hindi lessons two weeks ago. We have a tutor one hour a week, and then pretty much forget to study until the next sesh (some things never change). I think having some language will be helpful for bargaining at markets, and communicating with auto rickshaw drivers. It may also be helpful when I venture into the more rural parts of India.

I have always liked Delhi, but my relationship with this city has morphed into somewhat of a love affair. I love my neighborhood - the park, the ladies in their Saris, the men speedwalking, the guards playing cricket in the street (think Mighty Ducks, "game on! game off") - and I have met some really interesting, fun, wonderful people, Indians and expats alike. The nightlife, the small tate I've had, is quite fun. The music is questionable, but definitely danceable, and sometimes that's all that really matters, right? I'll have to expand my palate in this department and get back to you.

While the city can feel crowded and dirty and there are frustrations and headaches and bellyaches and the heat draining and the traffic daunting, I find it charming in so many ways. And I really feel at home. A home for now.

This is my 'hood.

As I returned from my fourth walk home from my yoga studio on Friday, I was overcome with a satisfaction that this is my neighborhood, my home, if only temporarily. I am known to the guards who stand watch in their small booths outside of gated homes. I know who will return my smile, say hello, ignore me blatantly, look away. My route is now familiar, like my old daily walk from the Community College T Stop to 73 Green Street:
I pass the shady, deserted D-Block park, worn and brown from lack of rain, or perhaps from the lack of footsteps pounding out love upon her ground. I pass all my Bessie cows, desperately seeking solace from the heat, taking to the pathetic shade on the roadside. I step high over cow pies all along the way, and leave wide berths between myself and then stray dogs. I turn left onto the main drag, Paschimi Marg, passing Mr. Maguu's home, and giggle just a little as I picture Mr. Magoo, the cartoon. The Mayor of Delhi's home is always guarded casually by armed (machine guns, or something hardcore like that) police officers, and I smile even though I know their stoicism can't be broken, like the guards at Buckingham Palace. Here, and on every road I travel (there are no sidewalks) I have honed my reflexes, so I can step to the side non-chalantly, when a driver honks to warn me they are passing. I turn right, and pass the dumpster shed behind the Vasant Vihar Club, hold my breath, and glance in to see if any cows are having breakfast, and to smile at the cat who always perches herself on the ledge. The shade must be worth the stink, I think to myself. I pass the shwanky dental office and like everyday, I think I should get a cleaning her in India where it is probably affordable! Another left, and I walk by the shady roadside where drivers park to wait for their "sirs" or "madames". They chat in small crowds, or sprawl themselves along the backseat of their Honda City (anyone read White Tiger?), catching some morning rest before a long day of driving in perpetually horrendous traffic. One more right-hand turn, and I arrive home, and wave to Shayam, who spends much of his day waiting, as well.

I awoke this morning (Sunday) with the taste of Chandi Chowk in the back of my throat. I had an adventurous day on Saturday, hitting up Old Delhi - Karim's Hotel (but really just a restaurant), The Red Fort, and Chandi Chowk (the main street along Old Delhi). I went with two of Steve's colleagues from Bain, one of whom speaks Hindi, so we were a good team. We went to the famous Karim's for lunch, and had delicious Bengali food, the traditional Delhi fare. After lunch, we took a bicycle rickshaw to the Red Fort. Bikes, rickshaws, cars, trucks, buses and pedestrians all share the same, wide roadway (lanes are only hypothetical) so it made for a perilous journey. With three on the rickshaw, our poor driver had to walk the bike most of the way, which made us even better targets. Alas, we survived.
As with many tourist spots in India, there is a tourist economy and a local economy. Indians pay Rs. 15 (about $.30), and foreigners pay Rs. 250 (about $5) for admittance to the Red Fort. The Taj Mahal is more like Rs. 50 for Indians ($1) and Rs. 1500 (about $30) for foreigners! The Red Fort was worth Rs. 250, and the Rs. 100 we each paid for an enthusiastic tour guide to bring us around. The fort is massive, consisting of several large buildings, constructed and decorated in the Mughal tradition. While I had a hard time understanding our guide as he spoke at length about the history (political, social, religious, etc.), I was able to catch some info on the design of many of the buildings. The short of it, so I won't bore you with details (google 'Red Fort' if you're interested), is that the numbers of columns, panels, curves, windows, balconies, and the various decorative styles, represented the different religions and cultures present in Old Delhi at the time. These were meant to be reminders to the Emporer (a Mughal), to maintain a spirit of justice when making rulings or judgements that would affect the community as a whole. I like that.
After the fort, Akshay departed, and Bernd and I headed to the infamous Chandi Chowk to find Saffron (a coveted and very expensive spice) at the spice market, and inevitably suck down some serious fumes, and dust in the process. I am afraid it is impossible to paint an accurate picture of what Chandi Chowk is really like. It's a mess of people (predominantly men), cows, stray dogs, rickshaws, wheeled carts, narrow alleyways leading to more men selling things, cars, buses, monkeys, and more. Bernd and I explored the spice market quite thoroughly, moving further and further into the crevases of the area, seeking the best stall for saffron. You see, in the spirit of haggling, all like items are put together at Chandi Chowk (and all markets, really, it's just that Chandi Chowk is MASSIVE!). Stall after stall displays barrells of rice, tea, cumin, masala, pickled mangos. People are crammed in (no such thing as personal space), men calling out for space to walk through with huge sacks of something carried on their head, standing water to be narrowly avoided, dogs snoozing, cows grazing on the brick pathways. In certain corners of the market, tucked away down narrow alleyways where the men coughed among their wholesale bags of flour and spices, I wondered if women were supposed to be there, particularly a white woman. But we proceeded nonetheless, drawing stares and smiles the whole way. Overall, it was sweaty and smoggy and loud and dusty, but it was remarkable, invigorating, exciting...
But the adventure didn't stop there. We had an interesting rickshaw ride back to our driver, who was waiting on the outskirts of the Chandi Chowk mess. Our rickshaw driver misunderstood our desired destination, and pedaled us all the way to the opposite end of the market. He tried to drop us, but we explained his error, none of which he comprehended. Rather quickly, we were surrounded by about 20 Indian men trying to help us. They argued amongst themselves as to where we really wanted to be, and finally one of the men told our driver, and he pedaled us to our car. The whole process took about an hour and a half, when the trip should have been 20 minutes. Night fell, and we were fortunate to see Chandi Chowk at dusk, and then at dark, brilliant lights cascading from the many Mosques and Temples. Traffic was just plain insane all the way back to Vasant Vihar, and I felt like I had smoked 25 cigarettes in a row after our adventure in Chandi Chowk.

Happily, I slept like a rock after that day, not even waking to Charlotte's screaming protests when she woke up in the wee hours of the morning, sans pacifer since the "Passy Fairy's" midnight heist. It is, afterall, Char's third birthday today.

On an entirely different note, I decided to journey to Thailand in December to meet up with my friend Mike for a couple of weeks, probably spend Christmas, and then head North to volunteer with Burmese refugees. Details to follow...

It's time for Charlotte's pancake birthday breakfast. Her party with friends is at the American club pool this afternoon. Ah, nothing like a cold swimming pool!

Be well, friends. Namaste.