A Rainy Farewell

This morning I went for a run at the Nehru Stadium and got caught in a torrential downpour on the walk back. Despite having a large umbrella, I returned to the house pretty soaked. India’s monsoons don’t joke around.  Apparently the monsoons systematically start pretty close to the same day every year. Everyone said we’d start getting rains on June 4^th and surely enough last Wednesday night the downpour began. Since then it’s been a solid week of the skies violently spilling their guts with only a few dry hours every day. The rain reminds me of when we went to school here. The classrooms in Vidyodaya had open windows and the administrators must have been a bunch of vampires cuz the lights were almost never turned on. As the skies darkened with the monsoon clouds, so did our classrooms and after a while the pattering water would seem as familiar and essential as the teacher’s voice. I rather like the rain and it was perfect during those long school days. Plus it brings the temperatures down a bit.

The fried chicken I told you about is called Trivandrum chicken. My run this morning definitely helped ease the lethargy and greasy food grossness out of my system following last night’s poor choices. Five of us went through 2.5 plates of chicken and 32 chapatis which is pretty damn disgusting. The chicken was dericious though, the spices and simple light frying were very different and a nice change from the breaded/flour-coated style of fried chicken I’m used to at home.

Aside from a few local excursions we’ve really just been relishing in the Cochin life. Remind me to tell you about Broadway the huge, old Cochin street market (had lots of cool spices) on Marine drive, and the new mall. The contrast was interesting as was riding the traditional red city busses to each place but the story’s better told than written. This is probably the last post before Europe and a goodbye to India 2014. It’s been a great few weeks seeing family, relaxing and going back to life in a city that was home for three years :) I’m excited, off to Zurich and new adventures!

All in the name of our sweet lawd baby jeezus, except not Jesus

Yesterday we visited Kodungallur to visit my aunt’s family and began at Cherai beach. Cherai beach wasn’t particularly noteworthy except for the waves. The beach was fairly short and about halfway, had a pretty sudden 3 foot drop. I’ve never seen a beach with that kind of a strange drop and I’m guessing the defined erosion was the result of the rate and violence with which each wave struck. The beach feels a little ominous with its dark greenish-black waters, which coupled with the angry waves crashing upon one another and clawing their way to shore, made for a pretty impressive sight. I just sat by the shore watching for a few hours. As nighttime approached, little beacons of light came into view, marking the fading boundary between the sea and the darkening skies. Cochin’s major seaport, coupled with the plethora of fisherman in seaside communities, results in heavy sea traffic off the Kerala coast. Each of the ships dotting the horizon seemed like its own little island. Just a lone star-like light in the midst of a black canvas of sky and ocean. The thought of being on one seemed nice; just a floating light in the midst of the angry waves. I liked Cherai at night. Maybe someday when Steph’s a marine biologist off the coast of who knows where, I’ll join her lost in the middle of the ocean for a little while.

Kerala’s access to the sea has meant that places like Kodungallur have seen a lot of external influence well before the British or even the Mughal Empire affected India. I’ve heard that roman artifacts have even been found in the region as a result of secondary trade from the Middle East. Perhaps the most telling consequence was the conversion of a Hindu king in Kodungallur to Islam and the construction of India’s first mosque in the area. Both events are particularly significant when you think about the degree to which Hinduism has dominated India for seemingly all of history.

Aside from Islam, Buddhism also made its way here fairly early on. At a famous local Hindu temple, there’s a holiday where everyone gathers and chants tons of swear words as part of festivities. My uncle told me of a few tales surrounding how the tradition originated. According to one, a long time ago as followers of Buddhism increasingly found their way to Kodungallur, the local Hindu communities started getting worried. In order to scare away the arriving Buddhists everyone gathered at the temple and let loose all the most wonderful words they could think of for a full day. The true story originates from when the caste system played a much greater role in life in the region.  Back in those days, the temple was meant primarily to service the wealthy class and other members of the upper castes. Only on one day in the entire year would lower caste members be allowed inside to see the large temple grounds and worship. On that day members of the upper caste would vacate the neighborhoods nearby for fear of the vulgarity within the temple. There was no literal foul language but everything said by the lower castes and their very presence was considered vulgar in nature. In time the temple was opened up to everyone but that single day for which the lower castes would be allowed inside remains celebrated. Only now they stick it to the caste system with a whole fuck-ton of swearing.

In other religious news, in recent elections the BJP won a landslide majority of seats in the Indian parliament. The Bharatiya Janata Party identifies itself as a Hindu nationalist group and as a result, the current legislative composition probably has the least minority representation of any recent government. Maybe goes to show just how heavily Hinduism has and continues to define India’s identity.

Ps for dinner we had domino's cuz my cousin loves pizza cuz people never eat it here plus i mean it's pizza. I've lost almost 2 kgs since I came here and that weight is after consuming 5 slices of pizza. I just can't win with India. Weight loss inevitable.

So that Europe thing...

My grampa had to take a blood test today and shortly after giving the sample, went out for a bit to drink. Maybe drinking immediately after blood loss is a bad idea. Aside from being a tad funnier than usual he was ok though. He somehow remains active and in so much better shape than Thatha… clearly alcoholism is the fountain of youth.

After some complaints from my cousins about excessive computer usage, I tried to bring my sections of the Europe planning to a close. Aside from a few remaining accommodations bookings that Steph’s working on, suddenly everything is looking about ready which is relieving but feels pretty crazy. Months of planning have gone into 3 flight itineraries, 2 ferries, 12 Eurail trains, 29 hostel bookings, 27 pages of city maps and 7.5 pages in daily plans all aside from buying travel gear and taking care of all the other intricacies that have come up along the way. I’m really excited.

Aside from that not much going on at the moment, just seeing family and relaxing in Cochin. Also you’re right, mefloquin tastes like shit.

To Rajahmundry and Back

Thatha is doing a lot better than I expected considering the two minor strokes. He isn’t very mobile and is pretty frail but at least he seems stable and happy. It’s always great talking to him.

Andhra Pradesh has incredible mangoes; my mom would resolutely argue the best in the world. Like bananas, you don’t realize how many kinds of mangoes there are till you find yourself lost in stall after stall of vendors selling only mangoes in a market in Rajahmundry. They’re all delicious, available by the thousands and my grandma is the best mango haggling buyer around. Also I've finally been able to upload pictures so here she is at work.

I’ve taken to a bit of nightly movie watching. Everyone here usually crashes early, I’m left wide-awake and my uncle has a huge stockpile of movies. A couple of nights ago was Elysium. Wasn’t an exceptional film but it was a bit shocking in how close our world is to the supposedly distant, dystopian future portrayed. Just today I stepped out for a walk while our train was at a station en route to Chennai. The platform outside our two-tier AC car lay nearly vacant with the exception of a couple of police officers armed with automatic weapons. The officers stood guard between our car and the chaos next door. The very next car over was a general compartment already spilling from the brims, with people gathered outside each door trying to squeeze in for a spot. Wasn’t exactly an inaccessible satellite paradise for billionaires but just one of many instances where the stark divide between the wealthy and poor in India is in plain sight.

On the road again with Chef Ramsay

We’re back on a train now on our way to see my grandparents in Andhra Pradesh. We’re in a two-tier AC sleeper; riding one of these without air conditioning seems like a rather miserable prospect.

I’ve been obsessed with Chef Gordon Ramsay recently. He has entire episodes of his cooking show on youtube and he does a pretty good job bridging sophisticated cuisine with the realistic potential of household cooking. Plus he’s really jittery and overly expressive with cooking which is always entertaining. And he runs marathons. Hopefully should make for some cooking adventures during the time I’m home. One of his side shows is called Great Escapes during which he visits the grass roots of the more exotic niches of cookery in order to really understand the food and how it’s created. I saw his episode on India which included a segment on the pantry cars of trains.

People are always riding trains in India and inevitably always eating on trains. Every train comes with one or more pantry cars. Each is a hive of activity making biriyani, chapati, tea and every other possible staple in quantities that could feed an army. Many workers then hurry up and down the train, probably marching kilometers every possible dining hour, bringing each food item to the hundreds of passengers. You eventually stop noticing the basket-toting servers that unfailingly hurry past every few minutes, rapidly announcing their wares as they pass.

Now picture a Michelin star rated chef in the midst of all this. It was just kind of entertaining to for once have some real perspective on one of these shows that tries to bring “exotic” culture to our TV screens. Though the train based dining industry is impressive and an unquestionable part of India’s culinary identity, its role isn’t very far removed from that of fast food in America. Despite its history and tradition, it’s just silly to throw a world-class chef behind the frying vats of a McDonald's. The episode still did a good job but maybe something to keep in mind next time you’re watching something similar.

Not much else to say for the past couple of days, for an explanation reference “The Cochin Life”. Before hopping on the train today we flew to Chennai and spent part of the day with Buji Mama and my cousins. My older cousin Pinku Didi, the one whose wedding we saw two years ago, is now pregnant. It’s weird to think a new generation is officially being added to the family, I’m old.

Trivandrum Day 2

Lotsa lotsa family. Like 15 houses and then 40 people over for dinner at the place we’re staying. The end. Did I mention family?

Ps Happy birthday to your… dad?

Tales of a land of old…

Today we got on the train to Trivandrum to see my dad’s extended family. Public transport is really cheap here and we thought we’d take our chances with $1.15 train tickets. Apparently 4.5 hours in a slightly cramped, hot rail car gets pretty uncomfortable. We’ll probably upgrade considering air-conditioned cars with more room are only $11.50. First world problems. My parents and grandparents and probably a few generations before them grew up on these trains. My dad rode his first one 41 days after he was born. Back then the coal-powered engines threw plumes of smoke into the passenger cars in their wake. You wore your particularly shitty train clothes for the ride cuz when you arrived, you and your clothes emerged a few shades darker that when you hopped on. Things have improved a lot since then… but I’ll still take the AC car. The view was pretty nice though; the usual endless coconut trees but cut short this time by the Kerala coastline in the distance.

When we arrived, we all piled in an Innova, enjoyed the blast of cool air and headed to my Grandma’s oldest brother’s house. The place was the archetype of a traditional Indian home. Despite the brick and concrete structure the home has an airy feel with doors and windows on every wall. There aren’t really any doors, more just openings in the wall and the windows are just large iron skeletons with no glass to stop the air as it slowly lulls through the house. The rooms all fall around and feed into one larger space at the heart of the home. It all came complete with a cute grampa and grandma.

He may be cute and delicate now but my grandma’s older brother was a handsome motherfucker back in the day. The walls of the central room were adorned only with a few ancient black and white framed photos. There was one picture of the couple from each of the weddings in the family and graduation pictures from those siblings that had went into higher studies. Framing the doorway on each side were two imposing portraits of each of my great-grandparents. If you couldn’t tell from the home itself, the framed photographs made it clear that you wouldn’t find a single album in the house. You probably wouldn’t even find another photograph. It was so simple and so marvelous. And probably left much greater an impression than the hundreds of photos on my facebook page ever will.

The whole place was a bit of a step into the past. After drinking a bit of salted buttermilk and chatting, we walked around the land behind the home. Many of my dad’s relatives live on relics of once large farms. Though few remain as the vast plots they once were, each is almost sure to contain a great assortment of plants we’ve eaten but never thought we would see. In that home and the ones that followed, I came across papaya, pineapple, tapioca, guava, turmeric, ginger, pepper, coffee and other herbs in addition to the usual abundance of jackfruit, bananas and coconuts. All just casually sitting behind homes amongst the rubber trees and flowers. I probably even missed a few. I should make particular note of the bananas. Every time I come to India I remember that the banana world consists of far more than the usual single option we find at the store. Here the word banana is almost as ambiguous as pop. Every home we went to seemed to add another “banana” to the endless listing of red, green, yellow, small, large, varying textured fruits we through into a single category. Each tastes the same fundamentally but differs in some subtle way that’s worth trying, even the 20^th time around. Moral of the story is, bananas at home suck.

I got on a bit of a vegetation tangent but most of the day was just spent roaming from house to house seeing tons of relatives. Many don’t mean much to me but each is some uncle, aunt or cousin of my dad’s and somehow he’s gone to war and lost a limb with each and every one of them. The occasional entertaining tidbit from 40 years ago was worth the day of mostly just quietly listening and trying to understand hours of stories in Malayalam. I did learn a lot about zoology from my 15 year old cousin sister who’s obsessed with animals and in about the same boat I am with these house-visits. That was my day and probably what tomorrow will be like.

One more quick story. We drove by Hanuman’s hill today. Probably the greatest story in Hindu tradition is the Ramayana. Growing up you hear it a hundred times, watch several TV adaptations of it and probably end up at some point wishing you could be one of the characters. It’s a long story but it all culminates with a battle with an evil demon king on Sri Lanka. As valiant men fall including Rama’s brother, an herb that grows only in the Himalayas becomes essential. The story goes that the mythological hero Hanuman flew to the Himalayas, found the herb and brought the whole hill he found it on back to Sri Lanka. Of course, Rama goes on to win the battle and save his queen but the imperative mountain, rumor has it, was dropped off by Hanuman along the Indian coast in Kerala. Hopefully the tiny snippet and context can sort of convey why a hill we drove by was so exciting and worth mentioning. Kind of like passing by the pumpkin carriage that took Cinderella to the ball. For a second, you wish all over again that you could’ve been a part of the Ramayana.

Another day and a half left in Trivandrum. A lot of family and fun to be expected.

A heads up for the hungry traveler

I told Micah about the woes of sickness from last week and he asked if there were any ways to discern if a restaurant is safe to eat at. So here are a few tips to avoiding sickness in India.

• Always ask for a bottled mineral water. Drinking water is the easiest way to get sick and unless you’re at home, you can’t be sure the water you’re served was boiled twice before making its way to the table.
• Don’t eat much meat. Power outages are very frequent here, even routine for certain times of day in some municipalities. Not all restaurant managers can be held in good faith to have kept meat cold every time the power went out. The half hour power outage we suffered through in stifling heat last night, could have meant chicken going bad in a fridge out there before some poor guy eats it today.
• Eat at restaurants in hotels. Many nice hotels come with an attached decent restaurant. The quality of a hotel lobby and the building are easy indicators of the eatery so you can easily find a good one. Plus hotels need generators, which improves your chances against the previous point about meat/perishable good issues.
• Just try to find somewhere nice. Unless you’re dining at a Michelin rated establishment, even a city’s nicest restaurants are usually going to cost you a lot less than $10 a head when you order dishes for a group. You’ll get good food, air conditioning and probably avoid an upset stomach.
• Don’t go to Subway. Despite putting up a posh appearance and offering a “Western” dining experience, Subway is what ended up getting me. Guess it serves me right for getting Subway even once in India.
• Ask around, places with good reputations are safer. If that wasn’t obvious.

My many days of catatonic bed-ridden sadness punctuated only by vomiting stints are an indication that this is either crappy advice, or the result of a lot of experience. Not sure but to be safe, just minimize eating out if you can.

As for life updates, yesterday we took a city bus out to Marine Drive near the port. The clustering of shops, large markets, seaside view and bustling port are probably worth many pictures and a good story but I’ve seen it all so many times that I don’t know what to say. We went to Marine Drive every few weekends when we lived here and it’s still cool but quite familiar. The evening did end with some delicious biriyani and parota chicken from Kaye’s. Don’t worry, we’ve eaten there many times before and followed all the aforementioned expert tips :)

The Cochin Life

About a couple of hours ago, everyone was lounging about the living room in their assorted ways and talking. My dad was across the floor, an uncle on a couch, my cousin curled up on a chair and so on. Their well configured positioning was both a matter of function, to maximize potential relaxation, and an effort to comfortably fit 8 people in a pretty small space. Everyone looked like they were about to drift to sleep but no one would. It’s kind of like the slow, sporadic conversation you have with your roommate at 1 AM when you’re tired but each of you is ok with just laying there and talking. It was all very fitting of the usual hot, muggy afternoon in Cochin.

During the little more than two hours that followed I went through the usual routine. I nearly sweated out my body weight on a quick 2-mile run. Did some pushups and a few other strength exercises. Took a long cold shower. Hand washed the past few days’ clothes and put them on the clothesline to dry. And ate a quick lunch. At the end of it all, everyone was still in the same spot, talking the same way they had been as if the two hours were nothing more than a moment’s passing thought. My grampa was drifting to sleep and that had the potential of snowballing to the group but nothing had really changed.

It’s all a long way of saying everyone was around the front room talking but that’s a pretty accurate snapshot of life in Cochin. There’s not much to say about everything that was said but it’s nice. Infuriating at times, but nice (suggested serving: taken in portions and with a grain of salt).

PS Learned how to de-husk, crack and grate a coconut

PS I found my way to Polonica’s for a haircut and bought shampoo, which feels wonderful. I even managed to avoid the usual comb over you get at the end of the haircut.

Sick

So a new record, sick less than a week into the trip. I puked 4 times and oddly, have a sore throat. In my defense, this bug claimed by uncle too so it isn’t just my weak American stomach as everyone says. I’ve been down for the count most of the past day and a half, which wasn’t too bad since it’s mostly been more scenic but precarious driving and hotel stays. In fact, access to nice air-conditioned rooms has probably helped speed this sickness up.

I’ve discovered that tonic with lime and salt works wonders. Also American sick food sucks. I never really believed in chicken noodle soup; it’s too salty, oily, and generally leaves my throat and stomach worse off than before I made the mistake of eating it. A good hot and sour soup or steaming rasam on the other hand will are guaranteed to make you feel better. Chinese or spicy Indian foods are the way to go. We’re on our way back to Cochin and hopefully I’ll be up and running by tonight or tomorrow J

PS I want some Cake Boss cake and A$AP Rocky or my Rap God Pandora station. Cuz spoiled.