Hanging out in Hyderabad

Before coming to India, I had made it a goal of mine to find a host family to take me in so that I could experience Indian family culture as well as home-cooked Indian food with that special taste that only a mother’s cooking can provide. Thankfully, I found this and so much more in the lovely city of Hyderabad located in the state of Andhra Pradesh in Eastern India.

A common sight on commuter trains in India.

I traveled to Hyderabad along with a few friends I met in India on a 12-hour train ride. It seems traveling by train in India is quite a common form of transportation though it was incredibly different from any train I have been on in the US. Luckily, we traveled in the A/C sleeper compartment of the train. However, I took a walk towards the back of the train during the journey and noticed the conditions slowly get worse and worse until I reached the “unreserved class” of the train. The unreserved class is simply everyone who couldn’t get a proper seat on the train crammed into a tiny compartment which smelled of an unfortunate mixture of sweat, curry, and a dead animal. Afterwards, I understand now why on some trains people opt to sit on the roof of the train instead of inside the compartments.

The overnight train dropped us off in Hypuris which are basically round pieces of bread deep fried and then warmed on a skillet so that the pocket inside of them fills with hot air and makes the bread rise. On top of that, we had fresh cut chilled Hyderabad mangoes (which I’m told are the best mangoes in all of India) which melted in my mouth whenever I took a bite. After a hearty breakfast, we set our sails to begin exploring Hyderabad.

derabad early in the morning where we made it to our host’s abode just in time for morning tea and breakfast. The breakfast was a delicious meal of

Charminar from afar, nearby, thousands of people
bustle around in an exchange of money, food,
and endless noise.

Our journey led us to the district of Charminar which is named so because of a towering monument in the district-center which reminded me of the Arc de Triomphe in France. However, Charminar was built two hundred years prior to the Arc in France, so perhaps it was French who copied the Indians…Either way, Charminar (which just so happens to be the background image of this blog) is known as a local’s shopping stop with blocks of vendors hawking their items from all around. We ventured into a few stores which were selling the handicrafts for which Hyderabad is famous for; pearls, bangles, and textiles. You could almost see the money signs behind the vendors’ eyes light up as we passed by each of their shops and if we ever

dared to step into one, we were given the royal treatment.

Old men adding finishing touches to handcrafted silks
in the backroom of a textile shop.

I have to say, it was certainly a feeling I could get used to as I walked into air-conditioned shops where assistants brought me the comfiest chairs in the house to sit on and asked if I wanted chai tea, coffee, or anything else. Luckily for me as well, the girls who I was traveling with stopped into many of the jewelry shops where I wasn’t obligated to purchase anything. The proud shopkeepers were also happy to give us a behind the scenes tour of their shops where we saw people hand sewing the beautiful and ornate shawls and dresses that girls wear and whittling away at precious stones to make jewelry. I was surprised too to see that no kids were working in these textile shops as I had expected from my impressions of the numerous sweatshops which supply the infamous textile industry in Asia with cheap clothing for the rest of the world. Instead, old gentlemen with a steady hand and an eye for detail were all sitting around making clothes, chatting away, and listening to Bollywood music hits.  

My imitation of Buddha, I have a ways to
go before I can look as serene as him

The rest of the day was spent sight-seeing, visiting museums, and stumbling upon grandiose monuments including a 150 ft. tall Buddha statue standing in the middle of a lake in the heart of the city. We took a water taxi to visit the statue at dusk. While we were treated to an amazing view of the statue lit up with vibrant colors, the cityscape surrounding the island was absolutely breathtaking. Even from the ground, I could see the beauty of necklace road, named so because from the sky the road looks like a necklace during the night from the lit up businesses and streetlamps as it winds around Buddha’s lake.

Though I saw and visited many more places while in Hyderabad, it was these small and random experiences which have stuck out most in my mind. For me, the most authentic travel experiences are the ones which no tourists or guidebooks know about. I certainly feel like I got to experience many things off of the beaten path in Hyderabad thanks to the wonderful hosts I was able to stay with who showed me around the great city of Hyderabad. 

Coconut Oil, Camels, and a Run-In With an Australian

           This past weekend I journeyed to Jaisalmer in Rajistan, a state in north India. This city happens to be nicknamed the “Golden City” which I can only guess it is called so for the miles and miles of golden sand and dust that are all around. This is because Jaisalmer is a desert.

A narrow alleyway in Jaisalmer fort off of
the beaten track

            I have so much respect for the weather-hardened people who call Jaisalmer their home. Each day is so blisteringly hot that I often mistook the sand and sweat mixture that covered my body as the makings of my tanned skin in India. Alas, when I finally got back into a shower last night after returning to Bangalore I saw my “tan” washing all away and leaving only a reddened burned skin underneath.

Of course, I had inklings days before this that my skin had burned which led me on a wild goose chase for some Aloe Vera lotion which has always worked wonders for me with sunburns. However, Indians don’t use Aloe Vera because they don’t have to worry about pesky sunburns but they do use coconut oil for their skin and hair. Since oil was my only option, I lubed up well and hoped for the best. Two days later, I not only found my skin healed but it had this illustrious glow and softness about it that I have now discovered is typical of Indian skin. Their secret which I have now discovered is coconut oil.

Besides discovering the secret to smooth skin, I also undertook an amazing camel safari journey into the desert of Rajistan. Fortunately for us, just before we began the trip a torrential downpour prevented us from departing with the camels into the desert. Though the rainstorm only lasted half an hour, the entire valley and desert was flooded so much that we were able to take sandbaths and make “Mudangels” (the much dirtier cousin of the Snowangel) in the sand. Before long, the camel entourage departed into a much cooler desert as the sun evaporated the water all around.

Evening approached and I was treated to traditional Rajastani-style curries and flatbreads cooked over an open fire by the desert guides. The exquisite dinner was set against the backdrop of an incredible sunset over the sand dunes all around. Away from all of the sounds and pollution of the crowded cities that I had become accustomed to in India, I was finally able to appreciate the vibrant colors that permeated the sky as I watched the sunset. Only after recalling this experience with the golden sand dunes am I able to grasp why people call Jaisalmer the Golden City. Underneath a blanket of bright stars which crowded the night sky and left imprints on my eyelids, I feel asleep to the soft braying of camels around me. 

Sunset on a cloudy day in Jaisalmer Desert

Morning came quickly after a sound night’s sleep and with it another beautiful sunrise. After a moderate breakfast my friends and I broke camp and hopped on our camels in a race against the sun and the temperature as they crept ever with time. We made it back to Jaisalmer from the desert right around lunchtime and headed straight to eat and rehydrate ourselves. The previous day we had arranged at a restaurant to have a homemade Rajastani feast prepared for us upon our return from the nomadic desert life.

Me and my trusty steed ready to take on the desert

With a teaser of fresh-squeezed chilled mango juice, our chef walked out with our first course of Ker Sangri, a painstakingly difficult dish local to Jaisalmer which must be prepared by trimming hundreds of dried leaves by hand which form the base of the dish. An even greater sight than our food however, was the chef carrying it out. A barefoot, bare-chested short-short clad man in his sixties with a chest full of hair that would make even a shag carpet cower in shame. In the Indian desert, it seems dress codes in kitchens need not apply. When the man spoke, he revealed an eclectic mix of accents from his birth in India combined with his years spent living in Australia during much of his adult life. This resulted in his uncanny ability to use the word “bloody” in both a positive and negative fashion and often conveyed both meanings in the same sentence simultaneously. His first sentence was along the lines of “How the bloody hell are you?” followed shortly thereafter by “This bloody-good mango juice is just the thing to cure the bloody heat out there.”. I wish I was exaggerating about his use of the word bloody, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be true.

Nevertheless, we were treated to an excellent meal and conversation by this Indian-Australian man. He turned out to be a devout Hindu with strong views about the prevalent corruption in Indian government. These beliefs combined into elegant pieces of wisdom such as “All Indian taxi drivers in this life will turn out to be mosquitos in the next life – they suck money out of people’s wallets, and next they will suck out the blood of everyone”. Or better yet, “You see all of those stray dogs roaming the streets? They used to be politicians, and now they must eat all of the trash they spewed out and created during their lives”. Of course, this wisdom stays in my head much better having heard it from an Indian-Australian accented man wearing short shorts and a shirt of hair covering his chest. 

A Love Poem to Diary-Uh

Dear Diary-Uh,

Many weeks have gone by since we first met

Little did I know our relationship would be so wet

You are my constant companion, always by my side

You’ve taken my intestines for quite a ride

I’m out of breath whenever you call,

For you’ve given me the runs to the nearest bathroom stall

Whatever I eat, you always have something to say,

For if I save money eating street food, it is my stomach that has to pay

Always dressed in unusual colors and consistencies with a new change of pace,

You have impressed me much in your versatility, if that is the case

During my sleepless nights you’ve called every hour to show your resilient might

Groaning, moaning, my intestines writhing in…delight

Though we connected on the inside, my experiences have always been out-of-body

We joke and play, though people cringe when they see we are so bawdy

Till we meet again, for now I must depart…

Have you come so soon? Or do you tease me with a fart?

Love and Marriage in India

Traditional Indian white kurta

            Love and marriage are two forces which combine in a strange and unique fashion in India. This realization came to me when I was treated with the honor of attending an Indian wedding. I am aware that the traditions typical of American weddings must be strange to the outside observer (think of the garter belt ritual, the bouquet toss, the many drunken toasts…) just as the traditions I observed were foreign to me. Here, I will attempt to explain my fascinating experiences while attending an Indian wedding.

            As with many formal affairs, people come to weddings dressed to impress. In India, this means wearing traditional clothing and enough jewels to blind a person if viewed in direct sunlight. The men usually wear a nice kurta which is like a long patterned blouse. The groom has the best-looking kurta around and looks like a maharaja (prince) in his regality. The women, as is typical of any fancy affair, look absolutely gorgeous in beautiful silk saris laden with enough jewels that would make even a veteran bedazzler impressed. Many of the women also show of elaborate henna tattoos  on their hands and arms which they received at another pre-wedding gathering earlier in the week.

The calm before the storm; the groom is about to 

reach to take his first bite of the baked 

goods from the bride.

            Besides the fancy gowns and dress, the rituals are what I was most surprised by. It seems it’s a common ceremony in the Muslim wedding which I attended for the sister of the bride to meet the groom at the wedding before her sister is wedded to “welcome” the groom into her family. This consists of her serving the groom a variety of baked goods in which hidden inside of one is some kind of token which the groom must find. However, the twist is that while the groom tries to find these tokens, he is beaten, literally, with sticks and other implements from the bride’s family. To my unlearned eyes, the entire act looked like the groom trying to stuff his face as fast as possible as he was being beaten all of the sudden by the entire bride’s side of the family as everyone was clamoring to get a hit at him. At some point in the ritual, milk is brought out, perhaps to wash down all of the starchy baked goods for the groom but amidst the chaos the person carrying the milk decided to dump it on everyone.

            At the end of the ceremony, most people are saturated in milk, crumbs and baked goods lie everywhere, and the groom is recoiling from his ordeal. While the groom is down, it is also customary to steal the groom’s shoes, so that he has to be barefoot until the actual marriage ceremony. Afterwards, everyone disbands to go change and get ready for the real wedding ceremony, which mirrors that of American wedding relatively closely, except for the fact that the bride is directed to look downwards and not make eye contact with anyone until she is married to her soon-to-be husband when she can then reveal her beauty to the world.

The bride’s family entourage, carrying gifts and
 well wishes for the groom.

            Finally, the wedding ends in a magnificent feast with enough food for each person to make a sumo-wrestler fall into a food coma. When I say that the food at weddings is bottomless, I mean that servers are trained to spot an emptying plate from across the room and will refill your plate for you! Over and over this happens until everyone loses track of how much food they have eaten and begin to feel the inevitable belt-tightening around the stomach. Only then does the dessert come out – succulent and tantalizing South Indian delicacies sweet enough to send the tooth fairy running.

All in all, Indian weddings seem to overload every sense from the exquisite decorations, the beautifully dressed people, the amazing aroma of dozens of bouquets overflowing with fresh flowers, the serendipitous sight of wedding rituals, and finally topping off the wedding with the fantastic taste of fine Indian cuisine to close out the evening.

The Bobblehead Effect

I wish I could capture this phenomenon live for you, because I feel like I just won’t do the Bobblehead Effect justice by describing it in words. Alas, I will do my best to convey to you this strange and slightly addictive phenomenon.

I first came to notice this peculiar occurrence during my first few encounters with local Bangalore citizens, or Bangalorians as I have come to call them. At first, I thought they were just happy to see me, or maybe happy to agree with me. But then I began to notice it in every encounter I had and I came to realize that everyone is plagued by this habit.

Allow me to describe this condition: it seems that whenever some greeting, agreement, or parting word is reached in a conversation, people in India compulsively feel an urge to shake their head back and forth, much like a bobblehead. The effect is more pronounced in some than others, to the point where initially I was worried either that A) the person who I was talking to was about to have their head fall off or B) they were entering into violent spasms. I have no idea as to the origins of this habit, but it seems to be common universally across men, women, and children, both young and old; no one seems to be spared by this condition.

I originally mistook this habit as an indication that people were just so happy to see me, with their smiles so wide, that their head just couldn’t keep still and they had to flail it around similar to how a dog wags its tail. However, when people would do the same thing with their heads when I left the conversation as when I entered it, I knew it couldn’t be the case. I was also taken aback in conversations when I would ask a question, and people would respond with “Yes”, but they would shake their head around in a “No” fashion. Sometimes, I would have to ask the question again because I was getting mixed signals. After they repeated their answer a second time, still doing their bobblehead thing, I think they must have thought I was deaf, while I thought they were crazy. Either way, my first few conversations with people were a little rough.

Eventually, I began to realize that this is just a habit of conversation. What’s more, I began to join in the habit as well. Now, when I Skype my parents with my newly acquired bobblehead skill, they give me the same look I must have given everyone else. I know for them it will only take time until they too join in the habit. After all, when in India, do as the Indians do. 

Indian Cinema

India can leave an impression on a person in many ways; sometimes the impression may be good, sometimes maybe not as much. However, one thing that India does really well, far better in fact than the United States, is movie theaters.

The cinematic experience in India is one fit for a king but made accessible to the masses. Even upon entering the movie theater, one is taken aback by the grandiose foyer surrounded by a variety of delicious eateries for people whose palates may be more discerning than popcorn and soda. Of course, the classic theater snacks are still available and I can verify that popcorn in India is just as good as you will find in the United States. In fact, I find it even tastier with the various seasonings available to add to the popcorn like masala, cumin, and more. Don’t even get me started about the décor – the entire place is covered in marble flooring polished so well that you can see your face in the reflection. A nice chandelier in the entranceway was the perfect cherry on top as well.

Once you get inside of the actual theater, it is another experience entirely. In India, movie tickets are sold with specific seats printed on them, which means that you no don’t have to arrive early and sit through endless previews to ensure that you can save enough seats for your friends. Assigned seating also allows for different seating options to be available, which means you can go for the budget-conscious normal seats or upgrade to comfier seats that rival a La-Z-Boy recliner with the plush cushions, extra leg room and reclining capabilities. Keep in mind that even the upgraded tickets with the nice chairs only cost Rs. 300 which amounts to about $6, much cheaper than any American movie. If you really want to go all out, go for the Gold Class which is still only equivalent to $10. The Gold Class comes with actual La-Z-Boy recliners, your own side table complete with table lamp, a separate movie theater entirely so you can view the movie exclusively with other Gold Class purchasers, and even a waiting service and staff so that you can order food and have it served to you during the movie, no movement necessary. I haven’t yet been to the Gold Class section but I hope that very soon I will be able to experience the full extent of the Indian cinematic experience.

When the movie starts, all is quiet and the conditions seem perfect for a pleasant viewing experience. That is, until the movie star comes on or a good action sequence. Then, the movie theater turns into a sports game with whopping, cheering, and clapping. At first, I was taken aback by the break in unspoken movie theater etiquette so prevalent in the United States which is to be as silent as possible. After a while though, I began to like it. Movies become much more real when you are not only siding with the good guy internally, but also cheering and clapping loudly every time he usurps the bad guy. And when the good guy gets the girl…oh goodness…that’s when the cheering gets insane. Of course, in Indian movies kissing on screen is taboo. To convey the love between characters Bollywood movies have long sequences of intense, passionate hugs between actors which frankly make me a little uncomfortable in their sensuality, especially because there always seems to be a broken hose on the set so the actors are wet and glistening as they are embracing. Maybe the true reason they are hugging each other so tightly is that with their slippery skin they just can’t get a proper handle on each other.

I guess this is the Indian cinema then: grandiose decorations and ambiance, fantastic food, and a great crowd that goes crazy with every plot twist and every kiss...sensual hug. Is it better than the United States? I would have to say yes, definitely yes.

First Impressions In India

Having arrived in India only a few days ago, my experiences thus far have been notable and remain very fresh in my mind. Although I was somewhat educated about Indian culture and customs before I left, there was nothing that could have fully prepared me for the organized chaos that is India. What follows are descriptions of some very notable first impressions and advice for India, all of which represent strong deviations from the American culture to which I have grown accustomed to.

1. Don’t lose your bags

Yes, it happened to me and it has apparently happened to many before me but DON’T let it happen to you. It has been four days since I have arrived and I still have no clue as to the whereabouts of my luggage despite many fruitless attempts to communicate in Pidgin English with the airline customer “(dis)service”. At the very least, travelers should take a carry-on with at least four days of clothing and supplies but make sure your carry-on is under 8 kg otherwise you will be forced to check it in. This was the case with me. Thus, the first thing that I discovered after stepping off of the plane in India and discovering my luggage was missing was that I have nothing but the shirt on my back to keep me company. It has been four days now in the same clothes and I am beginning to become concerned that the prolonged stares from people are no longer because I am white but because they can smell me from across the street.

2. Be prepared to be a foreigner

Having grown up in the United States and traveling only sporadically to the neighboring countries of Canada and Mexico, I have never truly felt like a foreigner. It is an eerie feeling to be 3-5 inches taller than nearly every male and ogled constantly at for what I think must be my white skin or blond hair. However, during these first few days I feel I have been staring back just as much as everyone here appears just as foreign to me as I must appear to them. It is as if two alien cultures are meeting for the first time on uncommon ground and neither quite knows how to react to the other. My interactions of this nature inevitably degenerate into a classic staring contest every time.

3. We’re not in Kansas anymore

I received my first real glance at India during my departure from the airport. While I struggled to keep down my airplane meal as the taxi driver careened through a traffic jam at 12:00am, it hit me that India, especially driving in India, is simply organized chaos. No one can quite explain how it works, but it works. Driving in India is a sport for the insane where two lane roads morph into three lane highways and cars and mopeds compete with each other in an endless game of “Chicken” to see who will give way first. The universal language seems to be communicated in a relentless symphony of honks and blaring horns. Of course, one must not forget the stray dogs and cows which also share the road. Yes, I said cows. I still cannot quite fathom how a huge bustling city like Bangalore can manage to have stray cows walking around the streets. But then again, there are still many things in India which mystify me.

4. The bathroom situation

Excuse me for a moment while I engage in some potty talk, but I do this only because I feel a duty to educate ignorant travelers like myself of the ways of India. While packing, it was mentioned to me that I should bring a roll of toilet paper to India because their toilet paper does not meet the discerning plush standards of Western buttocks. However, I declined to listen to this knowledgeable advice with the thinking that my butt can handle a little harsh toilet paper. I was sorely mistaken. Picture me in this situation as a weary traveler who has just checked into his room at 1 am and is in need of a bathroom. With the tunnel vision of a man on a mission, I located the bathroom and realized during the cleanup portion of the procedure that there was no toilet paper. I had prepared for harsh toilet paper, not a complete lack of toilet paper. As I searched frantically around the bathroom I came across a shiny hose. It didn’t take me long to figure out that in India, water jets are the new toilet paper 2.0. To prevent any unnecessary discomfort, I gingerly applied the water hose until I felt I was clean enough. Dare I say that with no toilet paper means there is no way to dry oneself after applying the hose. I will never forget that soggy pants feeling as I walked out of the ordeal.

Needless to say, getting to bed my first night in India was quite an experience. Stepping into the travel adventure of India is a borderline sensory overload experience. Lucky for me, three months remain to explore and discover India.