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.

If you are what you eat, I may just turn into a mango.

I've always liked mangos, but since arriving here, the eating of said fruit has become a daily ritual. I eat at least one, usually after hand selecting from the fruit and veg guy in our local E-Block market, and peeling it, of course. The mango is always deliciously warm, probably just picked that morning before being trucked, or bicycled in to sit in the sun a while longer. I suppose a fresh mango in Delhi could be compared to an apple in autumn in Vermont, or the blueberries in August from my mom's garden. But there is something so remarkable about the mango. Despite the drought and the heat, the mango still manages to be perfectly refreshing and juicy and sweet. And the mango, freshly picked from a farm nearby, is yet another reminder that I am somewhere different, exotic, new, and that in and of itself is refreshing and exciting.

I started a yoga course yesterday at a studio just a short walk from the flat. I read a glowing review about the teacher, Mini, in Love Delhi (a most excellent guidebook, should you visit here). As Mini has just had a baby, there is a sub for two months, and I am hoping that she will be as wonderful as all the students tell me Mini is. We shall see. I am just happy to be back at it, with the energy of a class. I enjoy my own practice, but there is something to be said for coming together in a room with other people. The combined energy can be grounding and electrifying all at once.

The electricity and water are being quite stubborn today, switching on and off throughout the morning. I was barely able to rinse the conditioner from my hair as the water slowed to a trickle. And the power is flickering, which is hardly a nuisance, as the fans and lights (not needed during the day, anyway) are on a generator. There was a wicked storm last night, lovely to watch, really - lightning, sideways rain, howling winds. The smells outside have changed drastically as a result. Everything is magnified. The aroma from the plumeria blossoms is intoxifying, but at the same time, the smell mangy dogs and cows and their feces along the road could nearly knock you down. Overall, it just smells wet - really, really wet. The heat has let up just slightly, and in it's place the humidity has increased quite significantly. The air is heavy, and it's hard to inhale a full breath. But I appreciate the heat, intense as it is. It's surprisingly refreshing and detoxifying - all the sweating, and water I drink to rehydrate and cold showers I look forward to.

I enrolled in a 3 week yoga course in Dehradun to start towards the end of November. It came highly recommended by a friend who lives in Manali, and has studied all over India. I am very excited to get up to the North, and will probably start with visiting my aunt in Kullu in October, making my way further north to see my friend in Manali, and trek a bit. After Dehradun, I plan to head South to Bangalore to see friends, spend the holiday somewhere, and then continue my studies at the Jois Ashtanga Institute in Mysore for a couple of months. Goa and Kerala, two beach regions in the South, are calling my name. Ah, to bask in the sun by the ocean!

I am not sure what my itinerary will develop into. It's dependent on a lot of things - money, opportunities, stamina. I am letting it all just unfold as it will.

Namaste, friends.

I have been reflecting on all of the remarkable things that have already unfolded in my short time here. Remarkable being relative, of course, since they are everyday occurrences for those who live here. I am still surprised when I see a family of four riding on one motorcycle, often one child sleeping in its mother's arms, or when I see a woman driving, or when a herd of brightly painted cows are blocking both lanes of traffic. I imagine I will forever "ooh" and "ahh", marveling at the brilliant saris and salwar kameez, and the beautiful women wearing them. I have come to rely on my morning wake-up call from the men outside selling fresh fruit, jugs of milk, bags of flour, cartons of eggs. All of these things, so natural in the daily life of Indians, offer small reminders of the very different world I am so fortunate to be experiencing.


Something happened to me today for the first time since I have arrived, something I was warned about regularly by friends who have travelled here. I expected it to happen much earlier in my trip, and more frequently, but today was the first heart-wrenching encounter. Katie and I went to a large market (we try a new one everyday), and during our browsing, two little girls, probably about 5 and 6 years old, began begging quite aggressively. They were tapping me, speaking in Hindi with a few "Yes, ma'ams" and "Thank you, ma'ams" thrown in, their desperation palpable. They followed us for a long time, and it appeared to me that they were being watched and followed by a gentlemen, likely their "pimp". Katie nor I looked in their eyes, as it would have made it all the more difficult to keep on walking. And neither of us gave them anything.

We have mulled over the appropriate response to situations like this, consulting Indians and Expats alike. The general consensus is that giving to children often means feeding the terrible cycle of kidnapping, and "pimping" kids out, much like you saw in Slumdog Millionaire. An Indian-American friend of Katie's said that she keeps individual serving packets of biscuits in the car, and hands them through the windows when beggars come tapping on the windows in traffic. We plan to do the same for our car rides, but for now, I look away when they tap on the car windows, grateful that my sunglasses conceal the sadness and pity that they conjure. As far as the more direct begging that I experienced today, I am not so sure. I have been in touch with several folks, both Indians and Expats, to develop an understanding of the most effective NGOs with which to volunteer - my alms to the poor.

Well, enough rambling. Sending love all around.

Namaste, Friends.

Sunshine, Breezes and a hilarious Encounter with the Basket Pedaler

We have been blessed with a breeze! Don't imagine cool breeze, just a warm wind to move the air ever so slightly, just enough to make the heat nearly tolerable. I was able to sit on our front balcony, overlooking the park, for 20 whole minutes (I wore sunscreen, ma) while I drank tea and ate fresh mango in dahi (Hindi for yogurt...yum!).

I was able to borrow Shayam for an hour this morning (the family has an appointment, and didn't need him until mid-morning) and visit Lodi Gardens. I had just enough time to do a quick loop, and take some photos. It is a beautiful sanctuary between Vasant Vihar and Central Delhi, with ponds and paths and birds that could make a real "birder" outta me (holla, Mike and Jess). And best of all, there are several old tombs and monuments from the 15th and 16th centuries that are just awe-inspiring.
While it is about 20 minutes from our house in traffic, I can easily get there on my own by taking a rickshaw. It is a dirty and hot ride, yes, but only about 40-50 Rupees, the equivilant of about $.80-$1.

I was admiring the birds near the water, when a middle-aged Indian woman approached me and began telling me about the park, the birds, the flowers. She was a volunteer who worked with the public green spaces to preserve the areas, including the wildlife. We got to talking, and it turns out she works with maternal and child health initiatives. She gave me her email address, and offered to connect me with organizations with which I can volunteer. In addition, her daughter is moving back from Scotland in the fall, and wants to travel around India. She offered her up as a travel companion, so we'll see what her daughter thinks of that! I was so grateful! All of the Indians I have met are so gracious and hostpitable.

So, yesterday was quite eventful and Katie and I had a lot of laughs:

1. Cooking with "Spices":

Our dear housekeeper, Dolma, has done a little bit of cooking for us. She is Tibetan, and so much of her cooking is very similar to Chinese food. Two nights back, she made us fried rice and stir-fried noodles (I didn't try those). The food tasted fine, but in a "after a long night of carousing in college" way. None of our bellies felt great after that, and we concluded that it was because she cooks with a tremendous amount of sunflower oil. Katie politely asked Dolma the next morning, yesterday, about the way she is cooking, and planned to nicely tell her that we would prefer she use less oil. Instead, Dolma's eyes lit up and she pulled out a baggy of white powder, appearing similar to salt. Katie questioned the substance, and Dolma called it by it's Hindi name, "Ajinimoto". Katie shook her head, not understanding. Dolma said, "Chinese Salt! When you have no meat, you add it to the food and it makes it taste good." Katie came to me, recounted the story, and said, "I think Dolma is using MSG in our food!" I used my handy iPhone, and sure enough, we were consuming MSG. We quickly, yet politely, put the kaibash on that practice. We are going to ask Dolma to cook traditional Indian food, and hope that she can. In the meantime, last night, Katie cooked delicious prawns, rice, and I made an avocado and tomato chutney - a deliciously light meal.

2. Haggling:

Katie and I have been admiring these sweet, little, hand-woven stools that are sold from bike rickshaws along the road. We told our driver, and he said he would tell the bike rickshaw to come to our house with his load.

Sidenote: The amount of stuff bikes carry around here is just incredible - whole families, pipes, loads of fruit, etc.

Anyway, the man comes over in the middle of the day (and meanwhile we have two electricians who speak very little English in the house, investigating why electrical appliances are giving us serious shocks when we touch them. Their solution? Wear shoes when you touch the DVD player, cable box, iPod dock...). There is no breeze, and the sun is high in the sky. It is blistering hot. The man is sweating from riding his bike carrying hundreds of pounds of woven baskets, and tables and stools and chairs, and we are sweating just from standing there. Dolma came outside with us to bargain our prices, and the bartering process begins to get very heated and they are snapping back and forth in Hindi. Then, the man says he won't sell us anything, and tries to re-tie his items on the bike in their precarious stacks. Dolma grabs the woven basket and says, "100 Rupees" and he grabs is back and says, "400 Rupees", and back and forth like this. Finally, we settle on a fair price for 2 laundry hampers and a stool. I am upstairs when Katie gives him the money. He kisses it and says, "You are my God. You are my God. You are my first customer of the day. Now I can eat...etc." Katie says, "Goddess, I am a woman," and goes inside. Five minutes later I answer the door, and there is the man, red paan juice dripping from his lips. He hands me a basket for fruit and says, "My present, my present," and with his hands in namascar, he bows and leaves.

3. An Indian home:

We had the interesting experience of visiting the home of an Indian family who has lived in Vasant Vihar since 1975 (the colony only started in the late 60's). Charlotte's friend from school in Boston just so happens to live in Vasant Vihar during the summers with her mother, brother and father's parents. This being the small world that it is, they only live about a 5 minute walk from us! This was quite an experience. We were welcomed into the formal entertaining area, and the children were expected to go with the ayahs (Indian nannies) right away. We were promptly served chai, and traditional Indian snacks by the "staff". This family has 2 ayahs for the children (one a piece), one cook, one house manager/housekeeper, one "Man Friday" (from the description, I imagine him to be sort of a companion for the patriarch of the household, though I am not sure), and a driver. Mind you, 10 months of the year, the mother and her children live in Boston, so this is a staff (probably less the two ayahs) of 4 for 2 adults!

They were lovely people, and full of information. They told us to tell shopkeepers that we know them so not to get ripped off in their stores. The mother also brought us around our local market and introduced us to her butcher, fruit/veg seller, baker and grocer, which means we won't get ripped off by them either. The "who you know" is quite powerful, as I suppose is the case anywhere you go.

Some other things of note, our power goes out several times throughout the day, but only for short periods of time. And once, while I was in the shower, the water stopped running. Hair lathered with shampoo, I was able to rinse with the remaining dribblings coming through the pipes. It came back on about an hour later, which probably meant the more assertive neighbors noticed and had the water truck deliver more.

The yoga classes that I hope to register for begin on July 24th, and I am looking forward to that. It is a quick walk to the studio, so I won't need to rely on a driver to get there. Katie and I may also have an instructor come to us once or twice a week.

In the meantime, I still do my morning walk/run in the park near our house. I considered joining a gym because the heat is unbearable, and there is nothing to do in the mornings before we have the driver (things don't open until about 10/10:30, which is right around the time Shayam returns from bringing Steve to work). I decided that I like my morning ritual in the park, walking and running the circle among the older Indian gentlemen. Yesterday, a kind older man engaged me in conversation, and it turns out he went to Harvard and then Wharton, and spent time in Rhode Island as a former Admiral with the Navy. He told me that next time we meet, he will show me the different ways that the Indians, British, Americans and Italians walk. I look forward to that. My other daily interaction is with an older Indian woman who walks slowly, just a few laps, and then does yoga-esque exercises on a bench. She is so kind and always greets me and chats about the day, the weather, the rain that won't come. I also admire a group of older women convene on the benches in beautiful Salwar Kameez to do some sort of clapping and stretching ritual, something yogic I am sure.

And so, in short, my morning in the park is quite lovely, and as long as I am an early riser, the heat is tolerable. Some mornings I may go by rickshaw out to Lodi or Nehru to run as well. The women wear shorts there, and I am dying to exercise in shorts! And above all, it's just plain breathtaking over there.

Namaste, Friends.

Finally, some rain!

So, as I was walking/running my regular loop this morning, I figured out a way to describe it. While some of you won't understand, those who do will likely be awestruck. I decided that this morning, with the humidity at it's peak (just hourse before the sky finally released some much needed rain to this earth), I felt as though I was walking/running in a Bikram studio. There were slight breezes that felt as though the door opened, just briefly, and while the breezes really weren't that cool, relatively speaking, they were just cooler enough to offer a bit of relief. For those of you who have never experieneced Bikram Yoga, imagine a combination of a sauna and a steam room. That's my India at present.
I also decided, while walking to a market at around 1 today, that reason #2 that people who can afford not to walk, do not, is that the pollution is just unbearable. I felt like I had been sucking the exhaust pipe of a car for the whole 20 minutes, and essentially I was. I happened to be out when 2 schools were realeasing their students, and the number of cars was obscene. Guidebooks recommend outdoor exercise in the early morning (that's my time!) and in the evening, which is beautiful, but I am often busy with the Katie and the girls until dark.

It rained just recently, only a little, but what emerged is just a paradise. It's hot, like you still sweat the second you exit the building, but the air is crisp and clean. A rainbow appeared, and I rain up from the park with my camera, took a picutre, and then realized that this must be an everyday occurence. And the light! Oh, the light! It's like the Saris and Salwar Kameez, vibrant and pure. The large magenta flower bush (mom, I will learn the name, I promise!) out front is bursting at the seams with color! I took a picture (I promise I'll post a bunch soon), but I am not sure it will do the scene justice.

Oh, and I saw quite a few monkeys today.
More to come....

Namaste.

And so it goes...

So, I am just recovering from a bought of "Delhi Belly", as well as a case of heat rash - on my face! Frankly, I am surprised that it took my sensitive system (skin, belly, etc.) so many days in India to revolt. I am sure it will not be the last time, but I am happy to be feeling quite a bit better. Anway, enough of that.

It's still so, so hot, but not AS hot as it has been. We are still desperately awaiting the rain, for the sake of the people, the vegetables, the plants...
It's hard to go outside during the day, which pains me to no end because it is so darn beautiful when you look out the windows. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, all you need is an ocean ot make the heat bearable! Sometime in the near future, I will have the ocean. And hopefully sooner, I will have some reprieve from this killer heat. Then we will just have wicked heat.

I visited the Imperial Hotel on Saturday which is an uber-posh hotel in Central Delhi. It is very close to the President's home, India Gate, etc., so the surrounding area is fairly swanky - neatly manicured lawns (though brown from the lack of rain), and a strong police/guard presence. The hotel itself is SO grand. There are several restaurants, a beautiful pool, and just elegance to be admired around every corner. Hotels here are the hot spots for gathering and dining, even if you are not a guest.
Had I felt better, I would have explored the tourist attractions around the hotel, but I took to a small cafe in Khan Market and wrote in my journal, drank a Buddha Delight (papaya and mango juice), and observed my fellow expats. There will be time for Lodhi Gardens, India Gate, Lotus Temple, and it will be far more pleasant when the heat dies down a bit.

Today, we are going to Saket Market, a HUGE mall-ish structure near Central Delhi. It is too hot to be outside, and cabin fever is quickly caught (I was inside with the girls from 6:15 yesterday morning when they arose, to 2:30 in the afternoon...we don't have our driver on Sundays!) by spending too much time in the house. There is a large bookstore in Saket where we can sit and read, and it is rumored to have an indoor playground of sorts!

Soon, I hope to report on some of the many temples and parks and landmarks that I am eager to visit. Until then, I am still settling in, getting my bearings and really, waking up - to this new world in which I live and literally, as this jet lag is still hanging on, but just barely.

Namaste, Friends.

Delhi, sweet Delhi

I imagine that the blog entry I am about to write will be much longer than those that follow. I have been here for 6 days already, and with the chaos (small children+jet lag+115 degree humid heat+new home) that defines the beginning of the journey, I have found little time to sneak away and write. My intention is to write a little each day, or every other day, so that you all can be with me as I go. We shall see...

So, I made it! We arrived safely, and snag-free at 8:30 PM on July 5th! The flight was pretty great, as we boarded right around the girls' bedtime, so they slept most of the time. I slept, too, and watched 'He's Just not that into You' and 'Shopaholic' - I was in the mood for some cheesey chick flicks, clearly! I suppose it would have been more enlightening and exciting to watch one of the many Bollywood offerings, but I will have plenty of time for that while I am in India.

We arrived in Delhi at night, and didn't make it out of the airport with all of our things until about 9:30, so I didn't see much during our first encounter - from the airport to our home. The receiving crowd just past customs was the largest I have ever seen at an aiport! Once outside, I braced myself for overwhelming heat and pungent smells, but experienced neither. I tolerate heat extraordinarily well, and the smell was nothing liked what I had been warned about.

Our driver (then Podam, now Shayam) delivered us to our new home in Vasant Vihar, Delhi, India! The home is quite lovely, with tall ceilings, balconies off of all the bedrooms/living spaces, and it overlooks a small park with tile walking loop and a swing set - a hot commodity around Delhi, for sure!

After a very difficult night (the time change is difficult for all, but significantly worse for small children), I awoke to the music of birds, and pedalers calling out in Hindi, "Milk!", "Eggs!", "Mango!" It was all very surreal to wake up in this place.

Visant Vihar is an upper class neighborhood made up of many ex-Pats, folks related to the Embassies (particularly the many African embassies, as they are located in our neighborhood), as well as wealthy Indians, many of whom lived most of their lives in the western part of the world, and are following the trend of returning to a growing, modernized Delhi. Hence, there is very little litter, well-fed stray dogs, and moreover, you don't usually see the people who live here, as they go from house to car. Guards, pedalers, sweepers, drivers, housekeepers and iyas (nannies) are in abundance. When I walk around, which I do often, I am generally the only Westerner until I arrive at a destination like the Basant Loc, a market catering mainly to westerners or wealthier Indians (offering stores like Reebok, Subway, Dominos Pizza...)

In the past couple of days, I have been able to explore my neighborhood a bit more, as well as some of the other neighborhoods (often called enclaves) of Delhi. Each morning, I walk the perimiter of the small park, alongside many of the older Indian men, but rarely women. I dress as conservatively as I possibly can (yoga pants, t-shirt, shirt around the waist to cover my bum), which, coupled with the heat and humidity, makes for a very HOT workout. I love the heat, and it feels good to sweat! It's like Bikram yoga, without the asanas!

Today (July 10th), it actually managed to rain just a little. They are experiencing quite a drought up here, so we need the rain to start. By precedent, the monsoons should have started already, and people are eagerly awaiting some moisture! We have noticed that fruits like pineapples and pears are not as juicy, and it is likely due to the water shortage. Katie spoke to an organic french farmer today (he delivers meat, eggs and veggies...yum!), and he said he has never experienced such a hot summer in Delhi since arriving in the mid-70s, resulting in a very small crop. Lucky for us, he still has ducks, chicken, lamb, eggs, etc!

One small way to beat the heat on some level has been to purchase the traditional Indian Salwar Kalweez, which Katie and I did enthusiastically. The breezy cotton tops have done wonders, and they are too beautiful for words. I have yet to try a Sari, but it is on my list.
The women here are just stunning in their Saris and Salwar Kalweez. The colors are magnificent! You see the women propped on the back of motorcycles, riding side saddle, with their scarves blowing behind them. Women participate extensively in the construction (and there is so much construction), and they wear their Saris, or Salwar Kalweez while carrying bricks on their heads from the stack to where the men are laying foundations, or building walls. It is amazing!

As far as the food here, it has all been wonderful, however it has been mainly take-out or eat out thus far. Our wonderful housekeeper, Dolma, has cooked for us, but it has been difficult because we have yet to furnish the kitchen with adequate cookware, utensils, dishes, etc. Katie loves to cook, so once the kitchen is ready, Dolma and Katie will share that role.
Northern Indian food is much like the Indian food you find in the US. I think I prefer the lighter fare of Southern India, and I anticipate that to be Dolma's forte, as she is from Bangalore (Tibet, originally, though). The Northern Indian food is very rich, uses dairy in many dishes, and is usually accompanied by a wheat based bread. Southern India does not use dairy as much, if at all, and is usually accompanied by rice. Many restaurants here serve a mixture, as Delhi is such a large and diverse city.

My jet lag seems to be waning, and I feel as though I am beginning to fully arrive here in Delhi. Next week I hope to resume a regular yoga practice, either having someone come to the home or join a studio. This will help me to restore some balance and find some calm amidst the excitement and sometimes chaos of this big move.

Saturday is Steve's birthday, so we are going into central Delhi. Shayam is going to take me around to the major markets and areas, while Katie and Steve have some time with the girls at a hotel with a pool, an even HOTTER commodity in these parts! I am looking forward to seeing the hustle and bustle of Central Delhi, and I am sure I will have much to report.

In short: so far, so good. This is a lovely place, and I am so grateful to be here.

Namaste,
Em
P.S. I will try to upload photos soon, however, due to my rural followers (aka dial-up internet users), photos will be posted directly to the linked Picasa site.
P.P.S. For all you luddites out there (MOM!!!), you can opt to "Subscribe" to this blog. This way, each time I post an entry, you will get an email.

Nearly Departed

I am currently writing from an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, having just returned, with girls in tow, from the wedding of Katie's (mom of children) best friend. The girls were flower girls, and were very good, but it made for a long evening of pictures and walking down aisles and a slight meltdown at the end. I got the girls home from Battery Park Gardens for the second night in a row (the Rehearsal dinner was last night) with only minor snags, including Charlotte pouring almost half of a Nalgene down her dress while sitting on my lap. Wet!

We arrived in NYC on Wednesday, via Acela, after a rather eventful couple of days in Boston: movers coming and going, a rainy day at the Children's Museum, plenty of vomiting and one ER visit (all was okay, just had to check out a tooth before leaving the country...) In spite of it all, I was fortunate to catch up with a couple of dear friends before heading to NYC.

New York has been somewhat rainy for the past couple of days, but today was beautiful - a nice send off before heading to New Delhi where the air won't be as crisp, and the heat nearly unbearable. I was able to run both mornings in Central Park (don't tell my PT!), and I hit up some of the playgrounds from my nannying days when I was in NYC. I caught up with some close friends for dinner on Wednesday night, which was wonderful and I finally felt somewhat relaxed amidst this chaotic (organized chaos, of course) series of events.

Tomorrow will be a day of organizing, anticipating and galavanting around the city (if we can make it work - these girls [and their nanny and mother] are exhausted!) We fly out of Newark, NJ at 8:30 PM on a direct flight to New Delhi. As you're looking up towards the sky, watching the firecrackers burst in the air, think of us all the way up there.

I hope to write again soon, and imagine I will have some interesting news to report!

xoxo