Bombay Dreams

(Side note: the title of this blog was borrowed from a very popular Bollywood tale, a rag-to-riches success story in the form of a musical.)

On Friday morning, I embarked on my first semi-big trip in India, a train ride to Bombay (Mumbai) for the weekend.  I packed my backpack with my reserve American clothes, hopped on a severely overcrowded bus and said goodbye to the village for a few days.  Adios to Gujarat, the only dry state in India, commonly referred to as “the land of no fun.”

When I arrived in Surat, I headed straight to the train station.  I asked probably 26 people where my train was going to arrive, since all the signs were in Hindi, which I can speak moderately, but still can’t read.  After figuring out where to go, I explored the train station and bought some snacks for the trip.  I got Mastana Mango Lays and some Stripe Tease cake (yes, it’s really named Stripe Tease).

At 10:45, when the train pulled up to the platform, I quickly scanned the 25-car train to see where I was supposed to sit.  Since I booked my seat at the last minute, I had First Class A/C seating.  I asked which end of train I could find my cabin and a man pointed to the opposite end of the train.  I took off running because trains only dock for 5 minutes.  I felt like I was in Home Alone weaving through the crowds, hurdling over sleeping people and dogs to find my cabin.  When I got to the end, another person told me it was actually at the front of the train, so I turned around and ran all the way back to the front.  By this time, my train was starting to leave, so in full action movie fashion, I hopped on the moving train, sighed deeply and wiped my sweaty brow, relieved that I made it.

I quickly found an open seat, kicked off my shoes and guzzled some water.  I looked around and I must say, the train was much nicer than expected!  After an hour or so, the ticket master came and collected the tickets.  When he approached me, I handed him my ticket and passport confidently.  He studied my ticket for a few seconds and told me to follow him.  I quickly put on my shoes and scampered behind him, slightly afraid that I was going to be deported from the train or for all I knew, the country.  We walked through several cabins, which kept getting nicer and nicer.  He showed me to a room, a real room on the train!  He explained that I was actually in second class and that my seat was in first class in a semi-private room with a bed and a table.  I restrained myself from hugging the ticket master and I settled into my room with a view.

Four hours later, I arrived in the big city, the New York of India.  The city is roughly 60 kilometres wide and over 21 million live in the metropolitan area, so I was completely overwhelmed.  Thankfully, Carrie, a fellow St. Louisan living and working in Mumbai met me at the train station and showed me around the city.  Walking around, I felt like Mimi-Siku, from Jungle 2 Jungle, a pretty popular movie from when I was little. I was in awe by the skyscrapers, the incredible volume of traffic made up of every mode of transportation and the other westerners! After I devoured an egg sandwich, we went back to her apartment where I tasted my first beer in over six weeks.  That night, she had a birthday party for her friend and roughly 20 other Americans my age came over.  It was so surreal to be at a party, drinking beer and wine and socializing in English!

On Saturday, Carrie was busy, so I was left to explore the city by myself. I went to a coffee shop and drank 2-3 cappuccinos and walked around exploring the Gateway of India, Bollywood and the Grand Taj Hotel.  I took the local trains around the city.  Local trains are Mumbai’s version of a subway, except there are no doors and you hang out the open side, with a death grip on one of the handles.  I also took rickshaws, which are glorified chukras.  It’s an adventure riding in a rickshaw in the city.  The drivers merge in and out of traffic and there is no “out of bounds” on the playing field of Mumbai.  We drove on the sidewalk, weaved in and out of the herds of cows and somehow fit between the narrow gaps between the large semis.  I was only surprised we didn’t drive right under a semi.

Carrie’s friend, Viren, met up with me for a while and took me to lunch at Indigo Deli, one of the most magnificent restaurants I have ever been to.  I had a cheeseburger.  I delicious cut of beef with fresh vegetables and mayo.  I was surprised at how alive my taste buds were, savouring each bite of this food creation!  (Cheesy, I know, but that’s how ecstatic I was to be away from village food) I was so happy to have a full meal that a few people at nearby tables were looking at me because apparently I was giving off similar vibes as Meg Ryan’s infamous scene at the diner in When Harry Met Sally. Afterwards, we walked through the markets and stepped into a corner bar to avoid the rain for a while.  We shared a pitcher of Kingfisher beer and listened to an eclectic mix of Bruce Springstein, Gloria Esteban, Toto and Shania Twain while watching cricket on T.V.

That evening, we met up with Carrie and the other Americans and went to see Inception at the most amazing movie theatre I have ever been to.  The bathroom looked like a New York night club and inside the air-conditioned theatre, we had over-sized reclining chairs and excellent caramel popcorn.  Had I not been so stuffed from lunch, I would have definitely ordered another burger from the concession stand.

The whole weekend was great.  It was so refreshing to get away from the village for a few days and meet other Americans.  They all took pity on me, offering me the first beer.  “You need this more than I do,” or “You live in Gujarat? I’m sorry,” they’d say.  Being away did make me appreciate the experience I am having, though.  I get glimpse into a part of India that most people who travel through never get to see.  But I did realize that I need to get away every once in a while for a taste of the good life.  

On my way back to the village, I rode in the third class compartment.  My previous journey was a distant dream as I went to use the bathroom which consisted of a hole in the floor of the moving train. 

Tour de White Teacher

This past weekend was my busiest one yet in India.  Life in the village is most often lacking entertainment, so it was nice to be out and about and busy for a change.  From Saturday morning until Sunday night, I was out visiting various teachers and students and enjoying some of the most incredible food I have ever tasted!

Saturday morning, Felicia and I set off on a chukra to visit Amitaben, my co-teacher.  She has been inviting me for weeks because she really wanted me to meet her family, so I finally agreed to make the trip to her village for lunch.  One stuff chukra and a short motorcycle ride later, we arrived in the most beautiful village I have seen yet.  Amita lives with her parents, brothers, cousins and grandmother so it was fun to be in a full house. Her six year old cousin, Paat, ran from one end of the house to the other for the entire length of our visit. He was so energetic and a little trouble-maker.  Amita prepared a delicious traditional Indian meal for us, with rice, okra, eggplant, chipati, and daal (sauce/soup).

Just when I had stuffed myself full and sank into the couch to relax and watch a Bollywood movie on TV, Amita told us we had more of her family to visit.  So, went outside into the Indian sun and began walking to her uncle's house.  On our way, we recognized some of our students who then insisted we come to their houses and meet their families.  So once again, we went through the process of removing our shoes, greeting their parents with "Namastes" and the other few Hindi phrases we know and sitting quietly on the couch or swing waiting for the snack they would prepare for us.  It is customary to make some food and drink for any visitor you have, here in India.  And if you don't have something to make, then you send your child out to buy something.  My student, Preet, ran to the market and bought me a chocolate bar and on his way back picked some wild flowers for me.  When we finally made it to Amita's uncle's house, we were served big bowls of ice cream!  It was a rough trip home on the bumpy, stuffy chukra with enough food for a family of four in my stomach.

After a super fast trip to Bardoli, the nearest town, it was time for the next visit. Every evening I go for a run, just as the sun is setting.  I usually take the same path and I run and walk for about 5 miles, 5-6 days per week.  It's a great stress reliever and it's nice to get out of the house for an hour or so.  Well now that I have been running for about 5 weeks, I have gotten to know the same people who are on the road every day.  There is a man with neon orange hair, there is a man and his wife who have matching outfits and a plethora of other people who are out and about between 6 and 7 pm, herding their cows or enjoying the cool breeze.  Last week, I started talking with this group of older men who have a little walking club every day.  They speak good English and after a week, one of them, Ashokbhai, invited us over for dinner. His wife cooks pizza and let's just say it didn't take much convincing because he knew his audience.  So on Saturday night, even though we were still full from our 4 lunches, we went to his house for some really delicious pizza.  His family speaks English very well, so it was so fun to talk, eat our pizza and drink Pepsi.

Sunday morning, I woke up still full from Saturday, but it was time to go again, to Bajipura, a village about 45 minutes away to visit Hemlathaben, the teacher who offered me meat under the table. When we got there, a feast of chicken curry was awaiting us. Her son, Dhaval, a  chef who studied in Australia for three years, cooked our lunch.  I had no self control and continued to eat for a straight hour.  The chicken was indescribable and for once the curry wasn't too spicy.  After lunch, Hemlathaben sensed our food coma and took us to her guest bedroom so we could lie down.  She sat with us and pulled out about 25 photo albums and told us stories about her life. It seems my visits to her house are going to be more frequent.

A few hours later, again after a long trip home, I cozied up on my rock-hard bed and watched a Bollywood movie. It's now 9:30 pm on Monday and I am still full from this weekend.  My run tonight was more of casual stroll.  And my walking friends asked why I didn't walk on Saturday or Sunday night. I wouldn't have been able to even if I tried.

Cooking Lesson 1: Pakora

On Sunday, after resting from a long day in Surat on Saturday, I went to our friend Vilmalbhai's to learn how to cook pakora, with his wife. Pakora is my new obsession.  The novelty of Indian village food has has worn off and now I am taking every opportunity to learn to cook different dishes so I can escape the same chapati, rice and vegetable mixture.

Recipe: Pakora
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 20 minutes

Serves four, or two very hungry people

Ingredients:

2 medium sized onions
1.5 cups of besan (chickpea flour)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon salt
1-1.5 cups water
2 tablespoons minced green chili
1-2 cups vegetable oil (amount varies with size of pot)

Instructions:

1. Finely chop onions and mince chillis
2. In a bowl, sift the flour (or break up large clumps)
3. Combine flour, onion, chillis, baking soda, and water
4. Knead with hands until batter becomes thick and smooth

5. Add salt
6. In a deep fryer or deep pan, heat oil at medium heat.  Allow oil to be 2 inches deep.
7. When oil is boiled, place 1 tablespoon of batter in the oil.  You can use your hands or two spoons.

8. Allow batter to cook for about 3-4 minutes or until golden brown.  Occasionally flip over to allow all sides to cook.
9. Remove pakora from oil and allow to cool.
10. Serve with ketchup or any sauce you think would complement.  Enjoy!

Village-isms

I have officially been in India for a month.  I am settled, mostly, and into a routine with work and free time.  I am getting back into teaching, which I temporarily forgot how much I missed.  Life is good.  I feel healthier than ever because I am taking long runs every day, eating only fruits and veggies, except for the occasional trip to the ice cream shop, and I am completely unable to access meat and alcohol.  However, my sources of entertainment are limited so I am doing my best to entertain myself!

This week was an interesting one, to say the least.  Monday morning we woke up and began getting ready for school. I put on my salwar kameez, chugged my chai and sat on the porch waiting for Hareshbai, who drives me to school every day.  After a few minutes, I got a call that said school was cancelled because India was on strike.  That's right, the entire country, with a population of over 1 billion people was on strike.  The purpose of the strike was to protest the rising costs of fuel.  This was a highly organized strike with set rules, such as it would only last for 12 hours and simply everything would shut down.  Thus, I spent the day reading and listening to the monsoon rains.

At school, I teach 8th grade and 9th grade English.  Every day, I start my morning with a Spoken English class.  This is my class and I write the curriculum.  It's smaller than my other classes so I can get to know my students and really work on their English.  I love the students and they are so eager to be there and see what activities and games I have prepared for them.  In fact, they are so ardent about my presence here that after class I am swarmed with students asking for my autograph.  Yes, I have my own paparazzi.  They shove their notebooks in my face, begging for my signature.  This morning, I got a paper cut on my cheek.  I have tried to ask why and I cannot begin to understand their reasoning.  No matter what I say, it's the same thing every morning.  I have finally just accepted it and embraced it.  "I only do one autograph a day," I tell them.

In between classes, I spend my time chatting with the other female teachers.  As I mentioned earlier, the staff room is divided by gender so I am at the far end of the women's side.  We talk about our families, their husbands and their plans for finding me a husband.  Apparently, I have sweat off a few pounds and the women are worried I am not eating enough.  India has the highest vegetarian population in the world.  Hinduism, the main religion of India does not permit eating beef as cows are sacred.  My village is completely vegetarian and I haven't seen meat since that amazing burger I had at JFK Airport, moments before my plane took off. But what I am slowly learning is that people actually do eat meat, they just don't talk about it.

Yesterday, one of my favorite teachers, Hemalthaben whispers to me, "Emilyben, do you eat meat?" I explained to her that in America I do eat it but here I don't because I am living here and I feel I should observe the same cultural practices.  Then, she looked around the mostly empty staff room, cupped her hand around her mouth and said in a hush tone, "I know a guy. I can get you some chicken.  I'll arrange it and stop by my house next weekend. I'll make you a meal."

I could not help but laugh and appreciate her concern and offer.  I did make plans to go to her house next weekend for what I can only imagine to be an incredibly delicious dish.  I am looking forward to it.  I have also arranged some cooking lessons for this Sunday.  As for my Saturday plans, I am taking a bus back to Surat and making a trip to McDonald's India to give the McCurry a try!

Dhire Dhire (Slowly Slowly)

It is now the end of my third week in India. I am slowly adjusting to the weather, the food, the people and my job. I finally started teaching this past Monday and so far it is going well. I have a co-teacher, named Amita, who will be shadowing me and helping me translate my classes. Throughout the year, I will be mentoring her and eventually she will take over the class. I really like her and every day she brings me new Indian snacks.

Sadly, I have taken a step back in my love for Indian food. After my first week here, I started feeling nauseous for 90% of the day. I tried drinking more water, eating more dairy, and even taking all the various antibiotics I brought with me, but no luck. Then, this past Tuesday, I woke up very sick, so I stayed home from school. The principal called a doctor and requested that he visit me at home. Around lunch time, I was laying in bed and the doctor walked in. He spoke little English, but asked me about my symptoms. Then he proceeded to poke and prod continuously at my stomach. He finished the exam with listening to my breathing for one second. He sat down on my bed, jotted down some notes, and looked at me very seriously and said, "I'm sorry Miss, but I believe you have....... an upset stomach." He left and returned to his clinic and sent me some medication about 3o minutes later. In tiny pieces of folded up newspaper were an assortment of pills of all different colors and shapes. I was take 8 every day until I felt better. With a lot of hesitation, I tried the unlabelled, oddly shaped pills and after two days, I felt significantly better. Sickness #1 is over thanks to a very thorough diagnosis!

I have learned a few other important lessons in my first few weeks here:

1. Hindi is CONFUSING. The sentence order is reversed! For instance, we say "The book is on the table." In Hindi, it is translated to "Book table on is" I have a long way to go.

2. It is in fact possible to sweat while you are taking a cold shower.

3. I am considered a spinster for not being married at 25. Next month, I am strongly encouraged to fast for one week so that God will grant me a husband.

4. Indian mosquitoes are far more clever than any other mosquito I've met. They know exactly how to find the miniscule spot on your skin where you may have forgotten to spray Off.

5. Rural Indians don't exercise for pleasure. Why would they? The first time we went running, people thought we didn't have money to get on the bus and several drivers stopped and offered us a ride.

6. Traffic jams and accidents are caused by cows. The cows mill around wherever they please enjoying their sacred status. They will stand firm in the middle of the road, just to prove to you they are holy and there is nothing you can do about it.

This weekend we are going to celebrate the 4th of July! We found a place where you can buy fireworks. It'll be a little different from US celebrations as we cannot drink in Gujarat, the only dry state in India and we cannot have any animal products, but we'll make the best of it and have fun I'm sure!