The Golden Temple provides shelter, at a very low rate, and food for all the pilgrims that arrive at the doors. They also provide food to the locals in need, as long as they come to the temple grounds. These two groups help put nearly 100,000 people through the doors every day, and not at set meals times I should mention.
In order to maintain food service to the visitors, the Golden Temple’s kitchen staff serves meals constantly, and the ability for the temple to provide the food necessary for this amount of people is mind boggling. One might think that with food service being non-stop, and the sheer number of mouths to feed, that the quality would be subpar or that the ‘menu’ would never change. Well, fortunately this is just not true. The meals that come out of the kitchen constantly change in their ingredients, but always vegetarian in nature, and the flavor is outstanding. Served while seated on simple plates of steel, washed by hundreds of volunteers throughout the day, you are allowed to eat as much as you need, but are suggested to not be gluttonous in your intake. There are always two dishes being served, one is commonly Dal while the other is usually potato based, and you are provided with as many pieces of roti as are necessary to help to partake in your dishes.
After you finish your meal you walk outside to realize how the kitchen functions. An uncountable, well at least at a quick glance, of volunteers chop onions, crush garlic, move bags of lentils and flour to and from the store rooms, and collect the unclean dishes. Even though unguided, at least it seemed that way, the volunteers worked hand in hand like the gears of a clock.
There is real love in the lentils made here, the kind of love that reminds me of my Grandmother’s kitchen.
Here is to missing you Nana—from India with love. Brandon
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Crowned in gold
The Golden Temple is aptly named, as it is crowned and lined with more than (find number of kilos). It sits in the center of a vast pool of holy water, approximately (find gallons) in volume. (insert measurements) The containing walls, ornate columns containing intricate carvings of flowers and ivy, and even the floors throughout the temple grounds are constructed of white marble that shimmers in the light. It is difficult to look into the temple grounds during the midday without protective eyewear, as the amount of sun being reflected from all of the surfaces, golden and white both, is almost overbearing in its strength. Thankfully the retaining walls provide a ring of cover and shadow around the perimeter of the holy pond.
While walking the perimeter you find yourself surrounded by the names of the martyrs of the Sikhs cause to protect the helpless. The Sikhs have participated in many battles and wars in the world and in each have sent many troops. Some of these troops never make it home, as is the sad price of war. Seeing these names etched deeply in black against the bright white walls expressed to me the level of respect the Sikhs have for their martyrs. If you have ever visited the Vietnam War Memorial, you understand the feeling that I had when I realized what I was seeing.
After our walk around the perimeter, we took the time to wait in the queue to approach the temple. As there were many travelers, we were not allowed much time in the temple itself, but the time that we did spend made just how much the Sikhs cared about this holy place. The amount of effort put into building and maintaining the Temple stands as a representation of the devotion the Sikhs have to their religion. The gold working on the interior was intricately and meticulously created by hand centuries ago. I have no idea of how long the work would have taken back then, but I am sure it was no short undertaking.
The gleaming scene of the Golden Temple in the evening sun is burned into my memory, pleasantly so I might add.
While walking the perimeter you find yourself surrounded by the names of the martyrs of the Sikhs cause to protect the helpless. The Sikhs have participated in many battles and wars in the world and in each have sent many troops. Some of these troops never make it home, as is the sad price of war. Seeing these names etched deeply in black against the bright white walls expressed to me the level of respect the Sikhs have for their martyrs. If you have ever visited the Vietnam War Memorial, you understand the feeling that I had when I realized what I was seeing.
After our walk around the perimeter, we took the time to wait in the queue to approach the temple. As there were many travelers, we were not allowed much time in the temple itself, but the time that we did spend made just how much the Sikhs cared about this holy place. The amount of effort put into building and maintaining the Temple stands as a representation of the devotion the Sikhs have to their religion. The gold working on the interior was intricately and meticulously created by hand centuries ago. I have no idea of how long the work would have taken back then, but I am sure it was no short undertaking.
The gleaming scene of the Golden Temple in the evening sun is burned into my memory, pleasantly so I might add.
Enter the Sikhs
That is pronounced Sicks for the curious among those following this little travelogue, and before you get a picture in your head, this is not a leaper colony, it is a religious group. :P
Although this is not the first experience I have had with the Sikhs, as Rahul and I haphazardly stumbled upon one of their more important temples in Chandni Chauwk earlier in our trip, it was the longest and most direct contact I have had with them.
The Sikhs are a religious group that sought to bring together the best of Muslim and Hindu beliefs. Through a combination of these religions, Guru Gobind Singh developed a religion that follows one God, does away with idol worship, removes the caste structure, and aids others to the best of their ability. After persecution from Muslim forces as they began to attack India approximately 400 years ago, a subset of the religion was formed to protect all of those who were helpless. Some modern day Sikhs still belong to this group of warriors, and the Sikh army commonly supports the Allied forces in the times of war, through which many Sikhs have become martyred.
It was this warrior-like subset that brought about the common iconography of the Sikh religion. Although business Sikhs are identified through the wearing of a head dressing, commonly found as a tightly bound turbine, the warriors maintain their look from the early days. Brandishing either a sword or polearm, wearing shorts, and maintaining well-kempt, yet excessively long beards, the warrior Sikh is hard to miss. The weapons are mostly ceremonial in nature, but represent their promise to help those in need. This is a bold way to make a statement, one that gains respect from at least this traveler.
I really respect the basic guidelines of the religion, and believe that many people could use to follow them in their lives. The major overarching rule is to help others, even if it is in some small way.
Have you helped someone today?
Although this is not the first experience I have had with the Sikhs, as Rahul and I haphazardly stumbled upon one of their more important temples in Chandni Chauwk earlier in our trip, it was the longest and most direct contact I have had with them.
The Sikhs are a religious group that sought to bring together the best of Muslim and Hindu beliefs. Through a combination of these religions, Guru Gobind Singh developed a religion that follows one God, does away with idol worship, removes the caste structure, and aids others to the best of their ability. After persecution from Muslim forces as they began to attack India approximately 400 years ago, a subset of the religion was formed to protect all of those who were helpless. Some modern day Sikhs still belong to this group of warriors, and the Sikh army commonly supports the Allied forces in the times of war, through which many Sikhs have become martyred.
It was this warrior-like subset that brought about the common iconography of the Sikh religion. Although business Sikhs are identified through the wearing of a head dressing, commonly found as a tightly bound turbine, the warriors maintain their look from the early days. Brandishing either a sword or polearm, wearing shorts, and maintaining well-kempt, yet excessively long beards, the warrior Sikh is hard to miss. The weapons are mostly ceremonial in nature, but represent their promise to help those in need. This is a bold way to make a statement, one that gains respect from at least this traveler.
I really respect the basic guidelines of the religion, and believe that many people could use to follow them in their lives. The major overarching rule is to help others, even if it is in some small way.
Have you helped someone today?
Punjab, in all its glory
After we left Shimla and the state of H.P., we headed towards Punjab. More specifically we were on our way to Amritsar, the home of the Golden Temple. I explain more about that in another post. If you happen to find yourself traveling in the northern states of India, this is a place I would strongly recommend visiting.
Amritsar is a city rich with history, mostly conflict related, and the state of Punjab is interestingly split between Pakistan and Hindustan (India) along the Bagha border. This border is currently the only open link between India and Pakistan. Every day at sunset, a ceremony occurs at this border that we plan on attending in the next day or two. I will keep you updated when we get a chance to head up there. I hear it is quite the show.
The people, at least for the most part, are kind-hearted, and open to travelers of their state. It was in Punjab where the fact that I was different seemingly melted away for the first time in my travels. People smiled at me before I even tried, when I greeted them they returned the favor, and several strangers approached me to strike up random conversations. It was almost as awkward in some respects as being stared at all day long, although it was a comforting awkwardness.
I hope the next day here in Amritsar is just as kind to us.
Amritsar is a city rich with history, mostly conflict related, and the state of Punjab is interestingly split between Pakistan and Hindustan (India) along the Bagha border. This border is currently the only open link between India and Pakistan. Every day at sunset, a ceremony occurs at this border that we plan on attending in the next day or two. I will keep you updated when we get a chance to head up there. I hear it is quite the show.
The people, at least for the most part, are kind-hearted, and open to travelers of their state. It was in Punjab where the fact that I was different seemingly melted away for the first time in my travels. People smiled at me before I even tried, when I greeted them they returned the favor, and several strangers approached me to strike up random conversations. It was almost as awkward in some respects as being stared at all day long, although it was a comforting awkwardness.
I hope the next day here in Amritsar is just as kind to us.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Under construction
After the formal party ran down, Rahul talked me into another evening with his friends. I am glad I grabbed a nap earlier in the day. Vinod’s place was a flat near campus, as he has a job near the university, similar in size and construction to Ashutosh’s place in Delhi. It is interesting how flats all seem to be the same size and style across different states. Cost cutting techniques I will assume for now.
There were five of us in all, and we decided, since it was a beautiful night out, not too hot or humid, that we would head to a nearby hilltop to enjoy the evening scenery. When I was told hilltop, I was thinking of the serene rolling hills of southern Indiana, but what I discovered was that hilltop actually means mountain cliff face.. Add that to the things I wish I would have known before arriving.
We arrive at a partially constructed roof top, for a future flat I assume, that overlooked the lights of Jaypee University. Looking over the edge was not advised, as the steep 300-foot drop is a bit disorienting. So precariously situated, we chatted the night away, sharing stories about our respective locations of childhood and our current life states. It was another good night of getting to know so of Rahul’s college buddies. At the end of the antics, we wandered back to Vinod’s flat nearby and crashed out for the night.
Tomorrow we discover the infamous city of Shangra La Shimla!
There were five of us in all, and we decided, since it was a beautiful night out, not too hot or humid, that we would head to a nearby hilltop to enjoy the evening scenery. When I was told hilltop, I was thinking of the serene rolling hills of southern Indiana, but what I discovered was that hilltop actually means mountain cliff face.. Add that to the things I wish I would have known before arriving.
We arrive at a partially constructed roof top, for a future flat I assume, that overlooked the lights of Jaypee University. Looking over the edge was not advised, as the steep 300-foot drop is a bit disorienting. So precariously situated, we chatted the night away, sharing stories about our respective locations of childhood and our current life states. It was another good night of getting to know so of Rahul’s college buddies. At the end of the antics, we wandered back to Vinod’s flat nearby and crashed out for the night.
Tomorrow we discover the infamous city of Shangra La Shimla!
Formal events – formal attire + drunk professors = hilarity
The formal event started with me being introduced to one of the big wigs at the university and Rahul asking him if I could attend the party, to which his response was, ‘He is already here, so what would be the point of sending him home?’ At least he was kind enough to let me stay. We also had received formal permission earlier in the day, just from one of the professors, not from the vice chancellor.
The night was filled with good conversation; again I was happy that many of the people spoke decent English. I was told later that we would have hung out with more of Rahul’s friends, but two of his clicks did not get along too well. I mostly answered questions about the U.S., my studies, why I came to India and what I liked/disliked so far. Some of the conversation digressed into Hindi, which was as expected, and it bothers me less and less when it does not get translated.
We grabbed a few snacks, something chicken, something potato and some peanuts before hitting the dance floor. Interesting observation about the music in India—it is common for the D.J. to play approximately the first 30 seconds of a song, that is right ONLY the first 30 seconds. That makes it hard to dance to, and a bit disheartening when a comforting song like 'Summer of 69' rolls over the speakers.
At least the disappointment in the musical playback was somewhat relieved by the abundance of drunk professors walking around, trying to chat it up with the American. Also, I had a random Indian graduate, drunk I must inform you, approach me to talk about food from his state, Himachal Pradesh. I already have a hard enough time understanding broken Indi-British English, so when you toss in loud music that constantly shifts from Classic Rock to current day Hindi Pop, drunken slurring and the occasional interruption from the lush professors, I was completely and utterly lost. I have, to this day, no recollection of what the poor kid was trying to tell me. I only remember it was about the food because he kept pointing at the service line.
Ah the joys of not speaking the local language. I really should brush up on my Hindi before I plan another trip.
The night was filled with good conversation; again I was happy that many of the people spoke decent English. I was told later that we would have hung out with more of Rahul’s friends, but two of his clicks did not get along too well. I mostly answered questions about the U.S., my studies, why I came to India and what I liked/disliked so far. Some of the conversation digressed into Hindi, which was as expected, and it bothers me less and less when it does not get translated.
We grabbed a few snacks, something chicken, something potato and some peanuts before hitting the dance floor. Interesting observation about the music in India—it is common for the D.J. to play approximately the first 30 seconds of a song, that is right ONLY the first 30 seconds. That makes it hard to dance to, and a bit disheartening when a comforting song like 'Summer of 69' rolls over the speakers.
At least the disappointment in the musical playback was somewhat relieved by the abundance of drunk professors walking around, trying to chat it up with the American. Also, I had a random Indian graduate, drunk I must inform you, approach me to talk about food from his state, Himachal Pradesh. I already have a hard enough time understanding broken Indi-British English, so when you toss in loud music that constantly shifts from Classic Rock to current day Hindi Pop, drunken slurring and the occasional interruption from the lush professors, I was completely and utterly lost. I have, to this day, no recollection of what the poor kid was trying to tell me. I only remember it was about the food because he kept pointing at the service line.
Ah the joys of not speaking the local language. I really should brush up on my Hindi before I plan another trip.
Convocation, Matriculation, Graduation.. whatever you want to call it really
Rahul’s ceremony started bright and early, well at least for him. He had to be up and to the event at 9a sharp. Usually, from what I have noticed and been told, Indians run on DST, Daisy Standard Time. DST usually means anywhere from 15-50 minutes late. Here I had been running on DST and never even known it, I’ll be damned. So when the directors say be there at 9a sharp, they mean 9a sharp or else. So that was a bit rough for my travel partner. Luckily the rest of us did not have to be there until around 11.
Convocation went much as most graduation ceremonies do. Really important people, that most people at least have an idea who they are, minus me who needed filled in, talk for a really long time about your future and how bright it is. This particular ceremony they spoke about how the youth of India cannot be stopped, unlike the flow of a river with a dam. Thankfully for me, and Rohit my translator on duty, most of the ceremony was held in English.
We took a few snaps, congratulated Rahul, grabbed some free lunch in the mess hall, and relaxed for a bit before we took on the rest of the day. Rohit and Didi did their thing, I am still not sure what they did, and Rahul and I planned on attending a formal party for the Alums that night.
First though, we decided to nap, well at least I did.
Convocation went much as most graduation ceremonies do. Really important people, that most people at least have an idea who they are, minus me who needed filled in, talk for a really long time about your future and how bright it is. This particular ceremony they spoke about how the youth of India cannot be stopped, unlike the flow of a river with a dam. Thankfully for me, and Rohit my translator on duty, most of the ceremony was held in English.
We took a few snaps, congratulated Rahul, grabbed some free lunch in the mess hall, and relaxed for a bit before we took on the rest of the day. Rohit and Didi did their thing, I am still not sure what they did, and Rahul and I planned on attending a formal party for the Alums that night.
First though, we decided to nap, well at least I did.
Hanging out, India style
It is fairly common for a group of friends to spend a few hours in a flat, hotel room, or in the hostels talking, making jokes or sharing stories of their lives. I was lucky enough to get to join in on this experience, and most of the guys in the room spoke decent English too, a bonus for me as I could hold my own conversations without Rahul for once!
I got to meet several of Rahul’s friends over the evening, but spent most of my time talking to one of his junior’s Prateek. Prateek is finishing up his studies in Engineering, but his passion lies in directing. Which is what fascinated me the most. In the past month he directed three different performances including a stage play, an independent film and a street performance. Maybe he will become the next big director in the Bollywood scene.
During our chat Prateek told me a very deep piece of advice, one that I have followed for many years but have rarely put in to words—‘you have to follow your passions in life; they are all that really matter.’
I got to meet several of Rahul’s friends over the evening, but spent most of my time talking to one of his junior’s Prateek. Prateek is finishing up his studies in Engineering, but his passion lies in directing. Which is what fascinated me the most. In the past month he directed three different performances including a stage play, an independent film and a street performance. Maybe he will become the next big director in the Bollywood scene.
During our chat Prateek told me a very deep piece of advice, one that I have followed for many years but have rarely put in to words—‘you have to follow your passions in life; they are all that really matter.’
The Kings of mountainside construction
The rest of our day was relaxing in comparison to the hell bent ride up the mountain. Rahul gave me a tour of the university where he spent his final three years of undergraduate studies. The grounds were fairly clean, but seemed older then the seven years that the university has been around for. It may just be that I am used to limestone, and this university was almost completely concrete.
The university was built and is supported by Jaypee Concrete, one of the larger and more trusted concrete companies in at least the state of U.P. The company was started by Jaypee Gaur, a once small time engineer, who made an income of 150 rupees, 3 US dollars, a month. It is now one of the largest distributors of concrete, hydroelectric dam construction, and hospitality in U.P.
The owner and founder of J.C. has a saying, something along the lines of, why make a donation when we can build a school; a very respectable statement to make, and follow through on, might I say.
The university is aptly named the Hogwarts of India, as it rises out of the mountainside tree line in a similar majestic fashion. Although the construction is much simpler then the baroque style of the original Hogwarts, the buildings light up the mountain, both during the day, as the buildings are a bright yellow color, and night, as the campus is vast in its footprint. The size of the campus dwarfs all other buildings, homes, and hill stations surrounding it, making it easy to spot in the skyline.
The university was built and is supported by Jaypee Concrete, one of the larger and more trusted concrete companies in at least the state of U.P. The company was started by Jaypee Gaur, a once small time engineer, who made an income of 150 rupees, 3 US dollars, a month. It is now one of the largest distributors of concrete, hydroelectric dam construction, and hospitality in U.P.
The owner and founder of J.C. has a saying, something along the lines of, why make a donation when we can build a school; a very respectable statement to make, and follow through on, might I say.
The university is aptly named the Hogwarts of India, as it rises out of the mountainside tree line in a similar majestic fashion. Although the construction is much simpler then the baroque style of the original Hogwarts, the buildings light up the mountain, both during the day, as the buildings are a bright yellow color, and night, as the campus is vast in its footprint. The size of the campus dwarfs all other buildings, homes, and hill stations surrounding it, making it easy to spot in the skyline.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Taxi cab confessionals
After our arrival at one of the last hill stations, we departed from our overly pleasant train ride up the mountain side, and embarked on finding a taxi to Jaypee University. When we found one, I thought we were in the clear, but what ensued was near torture.. If the traffic in Delhi is a teeth grinding, the taxi cab ride up the mountain side was life-altering.
Imagine if you will, you are driving up a serene mountainside with a spectacular view. A cool breeze is blowing through your hair, some Hindi blended with techno is playing on the radio, and monkeys are playing in the road.
You then look down at the speedometer of the taxi and realize you are going about 50 kph up a steep, slightly damp road. The taxi starts to swerve wildly back and forth to overtake cars around blind corners and in hairpin turns. You now notice the monkeys were not playing, they were running for their lives as the taxi barrels up the mountain road. Looking to your left, you notice there are no guardrails, just a steep plummet to your eventual demise if you were to slide over the edge. The only thing holding you in to the taxi, besides the closed door, is a handle. No, there was no seatbelt in sight. And yes, I am pretty sure they were cut out from the looks of it.
Didi and Sagar were giggling on the ride up, I am pretty sure it was in terror as they slide back and forth between Rohit and me. Thankfully we arrived safely at the top, with only a few near misses up the mountainside, and we all managed to not soil ourselves! I call those two bonuses from the way the trip went. I can only hope the ride down will be less startling.
Imagine if you will, you are driving up a serene mountainside with a spectacular view. A cool breeze is blowing through your hair, some Hindi blended with techno is playing on the radio, and monkeys are playing in the road.
You then look down at the speedometer of the taxi and realize you are going about 50 kph up a steep, slightly damp road. The taxi starts to swerve wildly back and forth to overtake cars around blind corners and in hairpin turns. You now notice the monkeys were not playing, they were running for their lives as the taxi barrels up the mountain road. Looking to your left, you notice there are no guardrails, just a steep plummet to your eventual demise if you were to slide over the edge. The only thing holding you in to the taxi, besides the closed door, is a handle. No, there was no seatbelt in sight. And yes, I am pretty sure they were cut out from the looks of it.
Didi and Sagar were giggling on the ride up, I am pretty sure it was in terror as they slide back and forth between Rohit and me. Thankfully we arrived safely at the top, with only a few near misses up the mountainside, and we all managed to not soil ourselves! I call those two bonuses from the way the trip went. I can only hope the ride down will be less startling.
A train to Shangra La? Wait.. sorry, I meant Shimla
To get from Delhi to where Rahul went to school, Solan City, we took two separate trains. First we took a sleeper train to Kalka, which sadly had no AC because we did not book our tickets in time. I blame Rahul for this, but I have since forgiven him for making me suffer in the night heat. :P
The first leg of the ride was riddled with a few stops, at each I woke up because there was no wind to cool me off, but I was kept company by the ever smiling Rohit. Rohit being the younger son in the family is usually asked/told to help out in all things the family does. Even though this is an extra burden on his shoulders, you cannot seem to wipe the smile off of his face. He is a pretty jovial cat indeed. This made the up and down of the trip not so harsh but still tiring.
Sweaty and worn out, we arrived in Kalka. After a short wait at the station, we boarded what Rahul called a short train, probably because it is only about 7-8 cars long, opposed to the at least double for other trains. This ride was much more pleasant. Did I mention that every ten minutes of the 3 hour train ride it dropped about one degree? If not, that is important to note, as leaving the sweltering temperatures of New Delhi behind for the cool reprieve of the mountainous state of Himachal Pradesh was a welcomed change.
Although I was quite tired from the lack of sleep over the past few days, I was not able to turn my eyes from the view. The rise to Solan City was littered with small stops at hill stations, places to grab snacks, stretch and use the restroom, making it a bit longer then it needs to be. I enjoyed these small ten minute rests though. It gave us a chance to look around at the scenery minus the blur of motion from the train. The mountains are covered in a lush jungle composed of many rare species only found in this state. As we continued to rise, we started to pass through a large amount of mist, did I say mist, I meant clouds. That is right, we were surrounded in low level cloud cover, making the ride just that more serene.
The cool breeze, the lush scenery, and the quiet ride made for a great trip up the mountain. It gave me a good amount of time to finally contemplate what I have seen in the past few days.
The first leg of the ride was riddled with a few stops, at each I woke up because there was no wind to cool me off, but I was kept company by the ever smiling Rohit. Rohit being the younger son in the family is usually asked/told to help out in all things the family does. Even though this is an extra burden on his shoulders, you cannot seem to wipe the smile off of his face. He is a pretty jovial cat indeed. This made the up and down of the trip not so harsh but still tiring.
Sweaty and worn out, we arrived in Kalka. After a short wait at the station, we boarded what Rahul called a short train, probably because it is only about 7-8 cars long, opposed to the at least double for other trains. This ride was much more pleasant. Did I mention that every ten minutes of the 3 hour train ride it dropped about one degree? If not, that is important to note, as leaving the sweltering temperatures of New Delhi behind for the cool reprieve of the mountainous state of Himachal Pradesh was a welcomed change.
Although I was quite tired from the lack of sleep over the past few days, I was not able to turn my eyes from the view. The rise to Solan City was littered with small stops at hill stations, places to grab snacks, stretch and use the restroom, making it a bit longer then it needs to be. I enjoyed these small ten minute rests though. It gave us a chance to look around at the scenery minus the blur of motion from the train. The mountains are covered in a lush jungle composed of many rare species only found in this state. As we continued to rise, we started to pass through a large amount of mist, did I say mist, I meant clouds. That is right, we were surrounded in low level cloud cover, making the ride just that more serene.
The cool breeze, the lush scenery, and the quiet ride made for a great trip up the mountain. It gave me a good amount of time to finally contemplate what I have seen in the past few days.
Failed plans, but a nice recovery
We had planned to visit a new temple that had just been constructed in the past few years, Akshardham, but we did not have time in the day, as we had to meet back up with Rahul’s father and sister before 5 o’clock. None of us have seen the newly constructed temple as of yet, so we were all excited to make the trip, but alas, some plans just fall through and there is not much you can do about it. So instead, we contacted Ashutosh and the four of us headed into Sarojani Nagar, a nice market with decent priced clothing. Rahul picked up a nice shirt, with help from Ashutosh and me, I bought a few tshirts and a pair of jeans for our upcoming trip to the Shimla area. We got to chat with Ashutosh a little bit before we had to head back into town.
Arriving back at the hotel a bit late due to traffic, the ever present and always enjoyable traffic of Delhi, we met Ruby and Rahul’s father. A ‘friendly’ little argument ensued in Hindi, one of which I do not know most of the content, lack of Hindi speaking and all, but it at least seemed resolved when his father left for the train. Didi, Ruby’s nickname meaning older sister, stayed behind with Sagar, her son, to travel with us until we headed to Varanasi. Didi presented me with a very nice gift, a shirt that they picked up from the market for me. It was very kind of them to do so, and I am still trying to figure out what present to get them for allowing me to stay in Varanasi—Rahul is being no help in this matter.
Didi wanted to head to an underground market to kill some time before our train left for Kalka that night. This market used to be one of the more popular and higher quality markets, but due to malls opening around the area, this has become a secondary market where lower quality goods are exchanged. For instance, a vendor was trying to sell us CK One, cologne Rahul purchased before we left Chicago, for 650 rupees, about 13 US dollars. Before purchasing this, as it seemed too good to be true, a 45 dollar bottle for only 13 bucks, we asked to smell it. Not only was it a knock off, it was a poor knock off. Anyone who has smelled CK One before would have been able to let you know it was a sad attempt at faking the cologne. At least Rahul got a decent pair of pants for 350 rupees that he had been looking for for a few days. Getting annoyed by the barrage of ‘Come look at just one shirt, please sir,’ ‘Please come into my shop, finest quality,’ and ‘I have the best clothes at best prices. Please sir,” statements, we headed out for our evening train ride. This long day would finally come to a nice long sleeper train ride end.
Arriving back at the hotel a bit late due to traffic, the ever present and always enjoyable traffic of Delhi, we met Ruby and Rahul’s father. A ‘friendly’ little argument ensued in Hindi, one of which I do not know most of the content, lack of Hindi speaking and all, but it at least seemed resolved when his father left for the train. Didi, Ruby’s nickname meaning older sister, stayed behind with Sagar, her son, to travel with us until we headed to Varanasi. Didi presented me with a very nice gift, a shirt that they picked up from the market for me. It was very kind of them to do so, and I am still trying to figure out what present to get them for allowing me to stay in Varanasi—Rahul is being no help in this matter.
Didi wanted to head to an underground market to kill some time before our train left for Kalka that night. This market used to be one of the more popular and higher quality markets, but due to malls opening around the area, this has become a secondary market where lower quality goods are exchanged. For instance, a vendor was trying to sell us CK One, cologne Rahul purchased before we left Chicago, for 650 rupees, about 13 US dollars. Before purchasing this, as it seemed too good to be true, a 45 dollar bottle for only 13 bucks, we asked to smell it. Not only was it a knock off, it was a poor knock off. Anyone who has smelled CK One before would have been able to let you know it was a sad attempt at faking the cologne. At least Rahul got a decent pair of pants for 350 rupees that he had been looking for for a few days. Getting annoyed by the barrage of ‘Come look at just one shirt, please sir,’ ‘Please come into my shop, finest quality,’ and ‘I have the best clothes at best prices. Please sir,” statements, we headed out for our evening train ride. This long day would finally come to a nice long sleeper train ride end.
Rahul’s Family Arrives, early of course
With another early start to the day, waking up around 6a and tossing and turning until about 8a, I realize that sleep may not be an easy thing for me to come by while I am here. Not sleeping in a bed with a thickness I am used to is a bit harder than I imagined, hopefully I will get used to it at some point in the near future. I rolled out of bed just before 8a so I could shower and get a shave across the street before Rahul’s family came in. He told me originally they should be in around 9:30, so I had plenty of time, until he knocked on the door before I started my bath and let me know they would be there in about 15 minutes. *smacks head* Apparently they had been in the area for an hour trying to find the hotel, not an easy task for most places, as though they have formal addresses, are hard to locate and people give very vague directions like turn left after the red brick building and walk about 50m, then go right and it is in front of you. So I rush to at least get a shower in before they arrive, and just as I finish up, I hear a knock on the door. Freshly showered, I greet Rahul’s brother, Rohit; his sister and her son Ruby and Segar; his father, Raj Naran; and his father manager, Lal Bahadur. All seemed very pleasant in disposition, and were very pleased to meet me. I took leave to get a shave down at the barber’s shop on the corner, and returned to them all finishing bathing also. I now did not feel so out of place that I just finished up—early morning baths, you got to love ‘em.
What ensued for the next 30 minutes have or so I can hardly fill you in on, as it was all in Hindi, with a few translation breaks from Rahul. If you ever seen a dubbed Martial art film where the native language says about 10 sentences, and the dubbing fills you in with one, then you know how I felt. It seemed like much more was being said then I was filled in on. I am sure they were just catching up, as they have not all seen each other in about a year.
Chatting out of the way, we took a few moments to celebrate Raksha Bandhan, described in a previous post. I was lucky enough to have Didi offer to let me partake in the celebration. With a knot tied around my hand, a dot with rice placed on my forehead, and sweets offered, the celebration was almost complete. Luckily I got to skip out on the last part, the sister asking for money from you, as I had no rupees on me for the day yet.
We then separated into two groups to do some shopping and exploring; Rohit, Rahul and I went to Chandni Chauk, and the rest headed to another market for clothes, etc. The three of us grabbed a few somosa’s from the shop around the corner from GTE’s, and returned to see Gaurov for our daily cup of chai. We were greeted by a beardless Gaurov, which was a shock to us, as he had quite a bit of growth the previous two days. The somosas were overpriced for the taste, but they were at least filling enough to not complain to the vendor. Through our morning banter, we discovered that GTE actually has a real name, Sharma Tea House. Gaurov chuckled at our title, informed us it was okay to tell people how to get there for future chai cups, and we parted ways.
So all you travelers out there look forward for directions to Sharma’s Tea House, also known as Gourov’s Tea Emporium!
What ensued for the next 30 minutes have or so I can hardly fill you in on, as it was all in Hindi, with a few translation breaks from Rahul. If you ever seen a dubbed Martial art film where the native language says about 10 sentences, and the dubbing fills you in with one, then you know how I felt. It seemed like much more was being said then I was filled in on. I am sure they were just catching up, as they have not all seen each other in about a year.
Chatting out of the way, we took a few moments to celebrate Raksha Bandhan, described in a previous post. I was lucky enough to have Didi offer to let me partake in the celebration. With a knot tied around my hand, a dot with rice placed on my forehead, and sweets offered, the celebration was almost complete. Luckily I got to skip out on the last part, the sister asking for money from you, as I had no rupees on me for the day yet.
We then separated into two groups to do some shopping and exploring; Rohit, Rahul and I went to Chandni Chauk, and the rest headed to another market for clothes, etc. The three of us grabbed a few somosa’s from the shop around the corner from GTE’s, and returned to see Gaurov for our daily cup of chai. We were greeted by a beardless Gaurov, which was a shock to us, as he had quite a bit of growth the previous two days. The somosas were overpriced for the taste, but they were at least filling enough to not complain to the vendor. Through our morning banter, we discovered that GTE actually has a real name, Sharma Tea House. Gaurov chuckled at our title, informed us it was okay to tell people how to get there for future chai cups, and we parted ways.
So all you travelers out there look forward for directions to Sharma’s Tea House, also known as Gourov’s Tea Emporium!
Arc de Triomphe of India
Next stop the India Gate, or maybe the Arc de Triumph of India? Although the India Gate is not too distant from PVR Priya, we walked a large portion of the distance. As an aside, If you have never walked towards a monument that you can see in the distance, it always seems closer than it actually its’ due to its size. The rikshaw ride was short, about 20 minutes, and then the walking started, and continued, and kept going a bit further, until we were almost there, and then we walked some more..
Even though it was about 9p when we arrived at the gate, it was still packed with people and vendors who do not commonly clear out until 11p from what I am told. The gate is a large four column structure with an enclosed top, similar to the Arc de Triomphe in France. Three flags sit in front of the gate symbolizing the three parts of the military in India; the Army, the Navy and the Air Force. Sheltered under the gate is an eternal flame that burns to memorialize all of those who have given their lives in the defense of the country. Sitting next to this flame is a gun with a helmet balanced on the hilt. Visiting the memorial at night made it shine in the darkness, a beacon of hope in the surrounding darkness of the park.
We rested for a little bit in the grassy area around the Gate, Rahul bought a small toy for his nephews and niece, and we all discussed the amount of litter that existed in the near vicinity. Even after nearly 20 minutes of talking about how the litter problem is created, propagated and possible solutions, two of the party members who will remain unnamed added to the problem. You know who you are Rahul and Monu, so I will spare you the shame of public flaming. :P
After some more walking, we parted ways, jumped in separate rikshaws and headed to our respective homes for the evening. We called it an earlier night, as Rahul’s family was arriving in the morning. We had another good day in India, minus the heavy smog starting to take a toll on my breathing.
Even though it was about 9p when we arrived at the gate, it was still packed with people and vendors who do not commonly clear out until 11p from what I am told. The gate is a large four column structure with an enclosed top, similar to the Arc de Triomphe in France. Three flags sit in front of the gate symbolizing the three parts of the military in India; the Army, the Navy and the Air Force. Sheltered under the gate is an eternal flame that burns to memorialize all of those who have given their lives in the defense of the country. Sitting next to this flame is a gun with a helmet balanced on the hilt. Visiting the memorial at night made it shine in the darkness, a beacon of hope in the surrounding darkness of the park.
We rested for a little bit in the grassy area around the Gate, Rahul bought a small toy for his nephews and niece, and we all discussed the amount of litter that existed in the near vicinity. Even after nearly 20 minutes of talking about how the litter problem is created, propagated and possible solutions, two of the party members who will remain unnamed added to the problem. You know who you are Rahul and Monu, so I will spare you the shame of public flaming. :P
After some more walking, we parted ways, jumped in separate rikshaws and headed to our respective homes for the evening. We called it an earlier night, as Rahul’s family was arriving in the morning. We had another good day in India, minus the heavy smog starting to take a toll on my breathing.
Posh drinks
PVR Priya, the market area that we headed to, was, as I was informed after we arrived and went through security, a target for a terrorist attack in the past. It has since become very secure, and guards are dispersed throughout, and tend to all of the entries, so I was not concerned about safety issues. We wandered around a bit looking at the stores that scatter the market area, most familiar to me and some not. We then came across a fountain to sit down at, which I think from the steep incline of the slick stones in front of the fountain we were not actually supposed to sit there, and took a few pictures.
Being in a posh area, we decided to splurge at a fancy coffee house after our photo session, this is not a common extravagance that students get to have, so Rahul and I were happy to give the Bihar brothers and Ashutosh a small treat and rest from the heat of the day inside the AC. The interior is very similar to chain coffee houses in the States, i.e. Starbucks, but the service is much, much, much slower. To their defense, they do serve you at the table, but still they move at the pace of snails. I was later told that this was caused by the people that tend to populate coffee houses in India. Couples, lacking much money but still wanting to spend time with each other, will go to a coffee house, order a 100 rupee coffee, and sit and talk with each other for hours on end. If you are looking for a fast cup of joe, this is not a place you would want to go.
On order from our table included 3 mint mojitos, non-alcoholic if you were wondering, a ginger spritzer, and mango chill. My drink of choice, being an against the grain kind of guy at that moment, was the bright pink ginger spritzer. It was like a herd of ginger-beasts trampled the prairie of my taste buds; my sinuses began to hurt a bit after I finished the drink. All of the beverages were drinkable, but the mojito was by far the best drink, as the mango was watery, and the ginger being as it was previously described, was not the favored drink. Sad I had to finish that concoction. That is what I get for being different I guess.
Being in a posh area, we decided to splurge at a fancy coffee house after our photo session, this is not a common extravagance that students get to have, so Rahul and I were happy to give the Bihar brothers and Ashutosh a small treat and rest from the heat of the day inside the AC. The interior is very similar to chain coffee houses in the States, i.e. Starbucks, but the service is much, much, much slower. To their defense, they do serve you at the table, but still they move at the pace of snails. I was later told that this was caused by the people that tend to populate coffee houses in India. Couples, lacking much money but still wanting to spend time with each other, will go to a coffee house, order a 100 rupee coffee, and sit and talk with each other for hours on end. If you are looking for a fast cup of joe, this is not a place you would want to go.
On order from our table included 3 mint mojitos, non-alcoholic if you were wondering, a ginger spritzer, and mango chill. My drink of choice, being an against the grain kind of guy at that moment, was the bright pink ginger spritzer. It was like a herd of ginger-beasts trampled the prairie of my taste buds; my sinuses began to hurt a bit after I finished the drink. All of the beverages were drinkable, but the mojito was by far the best drink, as the mango was watery, and the ginger being as it was previously described, was not the favored drink. Sad I had to finish that concoction. That is what I get for being different I guess.
Eat your heart out Little Bo Peep – Lunch at Ashutosh’s place
After leaving the Red Fort, we headed back down to South Delhi to grab some lunch with Ashutosh. Traffic was as expected, hectic and teeth grinding, but we made it safely. We arrived starving and unable to get a hold of Ashutosh, so we grabbed a snack of mushroom cauliflower curry at a small restaurant down the street from his flat. After food, Ashutosh called us back, so we headed up to his place to meet up with the Bihar brothers and Ashutosh at his flat. He rents a flat in an area heavily populated by students, as the rates are quite manageable, even for students.
Student housing is quite simple, even compared to standards in the States. It is not uncommon for students to move every couple months, sometimes to a flat just across the street, so the arduous task of moving furniture is mitigated by just not purchasing it in the first place. Ashutosh pays around 60 US dollars for a studio sized apartment with a small kitchen off to the side and a shared bathroom. The flat is shared between the two roommates, who, with a lack of beds and furniture, find the space to be plenty large for them. Even with the five of us occupying the majority of the floor space for lunch and chatting, more on that in a few lines, there was plenty of space for several more to have joined in. It was quaint but comfortable, and I sincerely thank Ashutosh for sharing his place with Rahul and me.
We hung out for about an hour, catching up with each other, and sharing a bit about India versus the US. Thankfully most of the conversation today was in English, I really wish I could speak Hindi fluently, this trip would be much smoother for me. Rahul offered to cook some food for us, as the three we met were hungry, and our snack was rather small in terms of lunch proportions in India. The Bihar brothers hung out with me while Rahul and Ashutosh ran to the market for ingredients.
While gone, the Bihar brothers and I shared a few jokes, flipped through photos of Facebook talking about my life in the States and my recent studies. It was nice getting to know them a bit better. Shortly after leaving, Rahul and Ashutosh returned from the market with lunch ingredients, and everyone pitched in to help cook, minus the guest, myself. I would have liked to help out, but all the jobs were filled up. Monu chopped the onions, Sonu crushed up the garlic, Rahul prepared the main ingredients, and Ashutosh walked outside to have a cigarette. With Rahul behind the wheel, I trusted lunch would be good.
Served up for lunch was mushroom fried rice and a dish composed of mutton hearts. That is right Little Bo Peep, mutton hearts. Mutton is lamb over the age of 2 years, a bit hard to find in the States unless you know where to look, and definitely not as popular as in most other countries. The fried rice was on par with what Rahul usually cooks, meaning delicious, and the mutton heart, although a bit dry and chewy, as heart usually is from what I was informed, was an interesting new dish for me. For the first time that I had heart meat, I was pleasantly surprised. Eating commonly fattier meats, the dryness took me back a bit, but I just slapped on a bit more gravy and dug in. I do not know if I would say heart is my favorite meat, but I am willing to try it again in the future. Finishing the meal with a cold drink, Thumbs Up, which is similar to Coke but not as sweet, we started to discuss plans for the evening.
Next culinary exploration, the kidneys?
Student housing is quite simple, even compared to standards in the States. It is not uncommon for students to move every couple months, sometimes to a flat just across the street, so the arduous task of moving furniture is mitigated by just not purchasing it in the first place. Ashutosh pays around 60 US dollars for a studio sized apartment with a small kitchen off to the side and a shared bathroom. The flat is shared between the two roommates, who, with a lack of beds and furniture, find the space to be plenty large for them. Even with the five of us occupying the majority of the floor space for lunch and chatting, more on that in a few lines, there was plenty of space for several more to have joined in. It was quaint but comfortable, and I sincerely thank Ashutosh for sharing his place with Rahul and me.
We hung out for about an hour, catching up with each other, and sharing a bit about India versus the US. Thankfully most of the conversation today was in English, I really wish I could speak Hindi fluently, this trip would be much smoother for me. Rahul offered to cook some food for us, as the three we met were hungry, and our snack was rather small in terms of lunch proportions in India. The Bihar brothers hung out with me while Rahul and Ashutosh ran to the market for ingredients.
While gone, the Bihar brothers and I shared a few jokes, flipped through photos of Facebook talking about my life in the States and my recent studies. It was nice getting to know them a bit better. Shortly after leaving, Rahul and Ashutosh returned from the market with lunch ingredients, and everyone pitched in to help cook, minus the guest, myself. I would have liked to help out, but all the jobs were filled up. Monu chopped the onions, Sonu crushed up the garlic, Rahul prepared the main ingredients, and Ashutosh walked outside to have a cigarette. With Rahul behind the wheel, I trusted lunch would be good.
Served up for lunch was mushroom fried rice and a dish composed of mutton hearts. That is right Little Bo Peep, mutton hearts. Mutton is lamb over the age of 2 years, a bit hard to find in the States unless you know where to look, and definitely not as popular as in most other countries. The fried rice was on par with what Rahul usually cooks, meaning delicious, and the mutton heart, although a bit dry and chewy, as heart usually is from what I was informed, was an interesting new dish for me. For the first time that I had heart meat, I was pleasantly surprised. Eating commonly fattier meats, the dryness took me back a bit, but I just slapped on a bit more gravy and dug in. I do not know if I would say heart is my favorite meat, but I am willing to try it again in the future. Finishing the meal with a cold drink, Thumbs Up, which is similar to Coke but not as sweet, we started to discuss plans for the evening.
Next culinary exploration, the kidneys?
Tourists pay how much more?!
The queue for the fort was quite long, but moved quickly. We were pretty happy to be inside, but then realized we were just past the first of four steps to get in to the fort. Next we had to purchase our tickets, another line to stand in, but at least they separate it out into Indians and foreigners, so my line went quickly. I thought the separation was nice, until I paid my ticket and asked Rahul what he paid for his. Indians pay 15 rupees for the admission, about 30 cents US, and foreigners pay 250 rupees, about 5 dollars US. That is right, I paid almost 20 times the local price.. *sigh*
Rahul and I had a good chuckle about the price discrepancy, and moved on to the next step, baggage checking, as you are not permitted to take your bags in to the fort, or so the signs say. Later we found out it was fine. The officer running the baggage check told me to think of a number in my mind that we should pay for the locker. I found this to be interesting, but went along with it. I chose 20 rupees, and he said that was fine. I took the key, met Rahul outside, and opened the claim check to find out that it only costs 2 rupees per bag. Since we put two bags in the locker, it should have been only 4 rupees. I assume he pocketed the leftovers, as he seemed pretty happy about the 20 rupees I was willing to pay. Oh well.
Step four, another security check point, where we found out we did not actually have to check our bags, silly signs. Stepping across the now empty moat, and through the one remaining wooden gate, we had finally arrived inside! Several vendors had set up shops where the market used to exist, and we found a place to grab some water before heading for the courtyard. There were quite a few tourists in the area, which was expected, but I am fairly sure they were all European. Not many of them responded well to my smile and nod, can’t a white guy get a break around here!? Even fellow tourists do not smile back!
The interior of the Red Fort is enormous, with the ability to house over 50,000 troops and supporting facilities/people it had to be large. It now is mostly a historic place, but also houses a small amount of Army soldiers in the converted hotels. The grounds were quite clean, a stark change from the area surrounding the Fort. Entering the courtyard, we were greeted by the Royal Court where the Mughal emperors would address their subjects. It has since been stripped of some of the more extravagant features, like a series of silver guardrails and a golden separation between the emperor and his subjects, but the elaborately hewn marble throne and seating area remain intact. Rising about 20 feet above the subjects’ gathering area, the throne is an ornate, at the least, pure white marble masterpiece. The detail is lavish, and the stone rare, making this costly even when origin actually constructed. But this throne was only a glimpse at what awaited us.
The Red Fort is a true sight to behold. An entire city resides within its’ walls, capable of housing 50,000 soldiers of the emperor’s army, along with all their accompanying support. Waterways riddle the interior, feeding the large and ornate fountains that reside within the courtyard. Buildings made of marble and red stone house columns with intricate stone inlays and meticulously hard carved embellishing. The windows are screened with exquisitely detailed metal flowers, and the ceilings are lavishly garnished with silver working. It is sad that I could not have visited this place around 300 years ago when the waters still flowed; I bet that would have been a majestic sight to say the least. Oh, and I would have been able to take a nice cold dip in the marble lined bathhouse, tempting a more then welcome reprieve from the 100+ degree temperature outside.
At least we had the shade trees to help us stay cool.
Rahul and I had a good chuckle about the price discrepancy, and moved on to the next step, baggage checking, as you are not permitted to take your bags in to the fort, or so the signs say. Later we found out it was fine. The officer running the baggage check told me to think of a number in my mind that we should pay for the locker. I found this to be interesting, but went along with it. I chose 20 rupees, and he said that was fine. I took the key, met Rahul outside, and opened the claim check to find out that it only costs 2 rupees per bag. Since we put two bags in the locker, it should have been only 4 rupees. I assume he pocketed the leftovers, as he seemed pretty happy about the 20 rupees I was willing to pay. Oh well.
Step four, another security check point, where we found out we did not actually have to check our bags, silly signs. Stepping across the now empty moat, and through the one remaining wooden gate, we had finally arrived inside! Several vendors had set up shops where the market used to exist, and we found a place to grab some water before heading for the courtyard. There were quite a few tourists in the area, which was expected, but I am fairly sure they were all European. Not many of them responded well to my smile and nod, can’t a white guy get a break around here!? Even fellow tourists do not smile back!
The interior of the Red Fort is enormous, with the ability to house over 50,000 troops and supporting facilities/people it had to be large. It now is mostly a historic place, but also houses a small amount of Army soldiers in the converted hotels. The grounds were quite clean, a stark change from the area surrounding the Fort. Entering the courtyard, we were greeted by the Royal Court where the Mughal emperors would address their subjects. It has since been stripped of some of the more extravagant features, like a series of silver guardrails and a golden separation between the emperor and his subjects, but the elaborately hewn marble throne and seating area remain intact. Rising about 20 feet above the subjects’ gathering area, the throne is an ornate, at the least, pure white marble masterpiece. The detail is lavish, and the stone rare, making this costly even when origin actually constructed. But this throne was only a glimpse at what awaited us.
The Red Fort is a true sight to behold. An entire city resides within its’ walls, capable of housing 50,000 soldiers of the emperor’s army, along with all their accompanying support. Waterways riddle the interior, feeding the large and ornate fountains that reside within the courtyard. Buildings made of marble and red stone house columns with intricate stone inlays and meticulously hard carved embellishing. The windows are screened with exquisitely detailed metal flowers, and the ceilings are lavishly garnished with silver working. It is sad that I could not have visited this place around 300 years ago when the waters still flowed; I bet that would have been a majestic sight to say the least. Oh, and I would have been able to take a nice cold dip in the marble lined bathhouse, tempting a more then welcome reprieve from the 100+ degree temperature outside.
At least we had the shade trees to help us stay cool.
Morning chai
We slept through the night much better, as we had a working air conditioning! Rahul got up some time around 6a, and I rolled out of bed around 8:30ish. We did not have a huge day planned; we just had a few things we wanted to see, so there was no rush to be out of the door early.
After we got ready, we took the metro into Chandni Chauk and stopped by a sweet shop for breakfast. That is right, I am on vacation, and I can have sweets in the morning if I want to! Well the real reason we stopped in for sweets was Raksha Bandhan, a festival that day where sisters tie knots on their brother’s wrists, give them sweets, and then demand rupees at knife point. Crazy I know. Well the last part about the knife is not true, but the brothers do commonly give the sisters money. So for breakfast we had a few somosas, kachauris, dhokla, and a few sweets. Kachauris are fried wheat cakes stuffed with lentils and spices, and dhokla is a Gujarati dish made of a cake soaked in some spicy oil topped with chopped greens like cilantro. Out of every dish I have eaten so far, dhokla is the first Indian dish that I just could not handle. I think it is the combination of flavors and textures that just do not seem edible after you start to chew on it. The sweets that we purchased were cashew paste filled with some dried fruit, a drop of saffron juice, and big sugar cubes all wrapped in a piece of silver foil. They say the silver is good for your health, I did not really see any benefit minus making my fingers shiny. Even without the added health benefits, they were mighty tasty.
After breakfast, we stopped by Gaurav’s Tea Emporium for our obligatory cup of morning chai, said hello, and chatted a bit. The special chai here is something I will surely miss when we leave Delhi.
After we got ready, we took the metro into Chandni Chauk and stopped by a sweet shop for breakfast. That is right, I am on vacation, and I can have sweets in the morning if I want to! Well the real reason we stopped in for sweets was Raksha Bandhan, a festival that day where sisters tie knots on their brother’s wrists, give them sweets, and then demand rupees at knife point. Crazy I know. Well the last part about the knife is not true, but the brothers do commonly give the sisters money. So for breakfast we had a few somosas, kachauris, dhokla, and a few sweets. Kachauris are fried wheat cakes stuffed with lentils and spices, and dhokla is a Gujarati dish made of a cake soaked in some spicy oil topped with chopped greens like cilantro. Out of every dish I have eaten so far, dhokla is the first Indian dish that I just could not handle. I think it is the combination of flavors and textures that just do not seem edible after you start to chew on it. The sweets that we purchased were cashew paste filled with some dried fruit, a drop of saffron juice, and big sugar cubes all wrapped in a piece of silver foil. They say the silver is good for your health, I did not really see any benefit minus making my fingers shiny. Even without the added health benefits, they were mighty tasty.
After breakfast, we stopped by Gaurav’s Tea Emporium for our obligatory cup of morning chai, said hello, and chatted a bit. The special chai here is something I will surely miss when we leave Delhi.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Day one recap - New Dehli
Warning – The following content is full of long details, and a bit of adult content (discussions on alcohol). Read at your own risk.
Day one started out bright and early at 5a, oh, did I mention it was overly hot, and I was soaked in sweat. Overnight our AC flipped the breaker 3 times. When we found out that it was cooler outside then it was inside, we chose to just stay up and got out for a walk. We started with hoping on a rikshaw and heading in to town to find a new hotel. The streets were not yet bustling with commotion, quite odd to see by the way, as it was way too early for a sane person to be up. And before you ask, I promise you that our rikshaw driver was insane, as noted by his mismanaged directions and haphazard peddling. We located an overpriced government hotel, ended up not booking a room, and grabbed a limca to cool off. On a side note, most of the sodas made in India are produced with pure natural sugar, not that HFCS crap we get in the U.S., and limca is no exception to a tasty cold drink with a strong lime flavor. I am trying to not drink too many, as I doubt I will be able to find a steady supply in the states to feed an addiction. *scratches neck from not drinking one while typing this*
After our hike to find a hotel, we returned to our first hotel, the one with the crappy AC and what we then found out rude staff, where they tried to transfer us over to a new room to which we said no dice. Not quite sure if that is what Rahul really said, but I will take a bit of poetic license in the translation. We checked out a day early, received no discount due to our broken AC, and Rahul came to the rescue with locating a much cleaner, and colder hotel room just down the street. We moved our stuff, rested in the glory of the AC for a short bit, and headed back towards town. We decided to hoof it to the metro, as opposed to taking an overpriced auto rikshaw, saving ourselves 80 rupees, almost 2 US dollars.
The metro station is quite clean, a big change from the surrounding area. The metro system is quite advanced, being funded by Japan, and prompt. It cost us 12 rupees to head into Chandni Chauk, a fairly famous shopping area and market that has a good night life and lively back alleys. As you may have put together, a place with a strong nightlife rarely has a strong morninglife also. As you may have also put together, it is still probably really early, like 8a early.. Stupid broken AC..
We explored around to see what was open , and noticed everyone was having their morning chai. After spotting several people with the same china tea cups, we attempted to locate the source, as it had to be popular with the locals for a reason. We then stumbled upon Gaurav’s Tea Emporium, name inserted as I really do not think he has a name for his quaint, yet profitable back alley stand. Gaurav runs a simple business, and prepare regular tea for 5 rupees, or special chai with ginger for 7 rupees a cup. You can get these either in plastic, Styrofoam, china tea cup, or glasses for your drinking pleasure, and believe me, it is a damn good cup of chai. He starts with about 16-20l of fresh milk bought that morning, using it up by 3p and buying more due to the high demand of his cup of brew, boiling it with sugar, cardamom, ginger and tea letting it create a frothy concoction. He vigorously sloshes around the pot and scraps down to ensure only the best cup of chai will come from his 5x2 foot slab of limestone that he uses to work on. Not only is the chai that he produces delicious, he is a great guy to chat with, that is if you speak Hindi. Thankfully Rahul translated for me. We enjoyed our cup of tea, read a bit of the paper, and told Gaurav that we would see him tomorrow, and headed off.
Running low on rupees, only enough for a regular cup of tea which we did not get, we walked around and happened on a Sikh temple, a religion that spurred from Hinduism during the time of forced Muslim conversions. The Sikh are a generous and happy religious sect that do not require you to convert to follow their beliefs. It is not uncommon to see followers of the Sikh handing out food to the daily workers who line the street. This is supported through donations from the local followers in the understanding that we all are equal, whatever God has given to us is to help us do good to others. I recommend looking into their religion, it follows a simple code of conduct that revolves around helping people out, a common theme in faith that is uncommon in practice.
After a brief history lesson from Rahul, we prayed, took part in the delicious offering, and realized that the temple was a very holy place to the Sikh’s. The offering, known as halwa, is made from deshi ghee, wheat flour, dried fruits, sugar and coconut milk. It was a random happenstance that we discovered the place of death one of the most important martyrs of the Sikh religion. We had a great experience for it starting out as a random encounter of a, what we thought, common place temple.
After putting our shoes back on, as they are not allowed in the temple, we trekked it over to the ATM, stocked up on some rupees, yay!, and headed to grab a bite to eat. My first traditional meal in India, I am not counting the sandwich at McDonalds at 1a a meal, was Masala Dosa. For those of you not in the know, which I will say I was not until then, Masala Dosa is similar to a pancake or crepe, coated in a mixture of spices, and rolled up around a combination of potatoes, dried fruits and vegetables. On the side was served a soup made of mixed vegetables and lentils known as sambhar. The meager 55 rupees, about a dollar and some change, was worth every paisa, the equivalent to a penny. Stuffed, sweating from the heat outside and the spices in our tummies, we departed and headed back to the new hotel to rest up a bit and prepare for the night.
A bit later, Rahul got in contact with one of his friends, Ashutosh, who agreed to meet up with us for dinner that night. Tagging along was the dynamic duo Sonu and Monu, a set of brothers from Bihar, who, although seemingly shy, were quite the hysterical group. We meet up in the streets outside of our hotel, came back to rally, and decided to locate a famous chicken joint known as Karim’s. Given some basic directions, describing that it would be right around the corner, we set off on a 50 minute adventure! Turn this corner, walk straight, turn that corner, walk some more, keep walking, walk a bit further, it is between these two shops, wait no it is not, keep walking, and you get the picture.
Finally, we locate the Mecca that is Karim’s. As happy as we were to finally find dinner, as we were all hungry, we were even more excited about the fact that there was AC in the restaurant, although weak and not very cold, it was better than outside. We ordered a few different dishes to sample, and then I reminded Rahul that he never went to the ATM for dinner cash, as they do not accept card(I am writing this reluctantly).. And the adventure begins again! I stick around with the Bihar duo while we wait for Ashutosh and Rahul to return with payment. The dinner arrives shortly after they leave, and although we are starving, we wait patiently to partake. After about 10 minutes we give them a ring, get a status update of 5 minutes ETA, and continue to wait. Another 10 minutes goes by, and we decide they are not worth waiting for any longer. Right as we start to dig in, they show up—lucky them. The food was amazing! Tandoori chicken, two types of chicken curry (a spicy/sweet combo and a earthy/tomato base), mutton curry, daal makhani, paneer skewers and a few types of rotis garnished the table.
*dinner plates get filled/emptied/filled again, jokes start flying around and time passes*
Stuffed and groggy, we decide to roll out of the restaurant and head back to the hotel to hang out. On the way we grab some beer, which still has yet to be even opened, and bought a few bags of ice. What followed was a few hours of political chatting, whiskey drinking, lots of Hindi being spoken, the white guy being lost, the doorman requesting ID’s for the non-renters on file, and quite a few laughs. On the final warning from the doorman, we parted ways on the promise of lunch the next day. Rahul and I chatted for a bit afterwards about life, and crashed out. It was a good close to the first night in India.
Day one started out bright and early at 5a, oh, did I mention it was overly hot, and I was soaked in sweat. Overnight our AC flipped the breaker 3 times. When we found out that it was cooler outside then it was inside, we chose to just stay up and got out for a walk. We started with hoping on a rikshaw and heading in to town to find a new hotel. The streets were not yet bustling with commotion, quite odd to see by the way, as it was way too early for a sane person to be up. And before you ask, I promise you that our rikshaw driver was insane, as noted by his mismanaged directions and haphazard peddling. We located an overpriced government hotel, ended up not booking a room, and grabbed a limca to cool off. On a side note, most of the sodas made in India are produced with pure natural sugar, not that HFCS crap we get in the U.S., and limca is no exception to a tasty cold drink with a strong lime flavor. I am trying to not drink too many, as I doubt I will be able to find a steady supply in the states to feed an addiction. *scratches neck from not drinking one while typing this*
After our hike to find a hotel, we returned to our first hotel, the one with the crappy AC and what we then found out rude staff, where they tried to transfer us over to a new room to which we said no dice. Not quite sure if that is what Rahul really said, but I will take a bit of poetic license in the translation. We checked out a day early, received no discount due to our broken AC, and Rahul came to the rescue with locating a much cleaner, and colder hotel room just down the street. We moved our stuff, rested in the glory of the AC for a short bit, and headed back towards town. We decided to hoof it to the metro, as opposed to taking an overpriced auto rikshaw, saving ourselves 80 rupees, almost 2 US dollars.
The metro station is quite clean, a big change from the surrounding area. The metro system is quite advanced, being funded by Japan, and prompt. It cost us 12 rupees to head into Chandni Chauk, a fairly famous shopping area and market that has a good night life and lively back alleys. As you may have put together, a place with a strong nightlife rarely has a strong morninglife also. As you may have also put together, it is still probably really early, like 8a early.. Stupid broken AC..
We explored around to see what was open , and noticed everyone was having their morning chai. After spotting several people with the same china tea cups, we attempted to locate the source, as it had to be popular with the locals for a reason. We then stumbled upon Gaurav’s Tea Emporium, name inserted as I really do not think he has a name for his quaint, yet profitable back alley stand. Gaurav runs a simple business, and prepare regular tea for 5 rupees, or special chai with ginger for 7 rupees a cup. You can get these either in plastic, Styrofoam, china tea cup, or glasses for your drinking pleasure, and believe me, it is a damn good cup of chai. He starts with about 16-20l of fresh milk bought that morning, using it up by 3p and buying more due to the high demand of his cup of brew, boiling it with sugar, cardamom, ginger and tea letting it create a frothy concoction. He vigorously sloshes around the pot and scraps down to ensure only the best cup of chai will come from his 5x2 foot slab of limestone that he uses to work on. Not only is the chai that he produces delicious, he is a great guy to chat with, that is if you speak Hindi. Thankfully Rahul translated for me. We enjoyed our cup of tea, read a bit of the paper, and told Gaurav that we would see him tomorrow, and headed off.
Running low on rupees, only enough for a regular cup of tea which we did not get, we walked around and happened on a Sikh temple, a religion that spurred from Hinduism during the time of forced Muslim conversions. The Sikh are a generous and happy religious sect that do not require you to convert to follow their beliefs. It is not uncommon to see followers of the Sikh handing out food to the daily workers who line the street. This is supported through donations from the local followers in the understanding that we all are equal, whatever God has given to us is to help us do good to others. I recommend looking into their religion, it follows a simple code of conduct that revolves around helping people out, a common theme in faith that is uncommon in practice.
After a brief history lesson from Rahul, we prayed, took part in the delicious offering, and realized that the temple was a very holy place to the Sikh’s. The offering, known as halwa, is made from deshi ghee, wheat flour, dried fruits, sugar and coconut milk. It was a random happenstance that we discovered the place of death one of the most important martyrs of the Sikh religion. We had a great experience for it starting out as a random encounter of a, what we thought, common place temple.
After putting our shoes back on, as they are not allowed in the temple, we trekked it over to the ATM, stocked up on some rupees, yay!, and headed to grab a bite to eat. My first traditional meal in India, I am not counting the sandwich at McDonalds at 1a a meal, was Masala Dosa. For those of you not in the know, which I will say I was not until then, Masala Dosa is similar to a pancake or crepe, coated in a mixture of spices, and rolled up around a combination of potatoes, dried fruits and vegetables. On the side was served a soup made of mixed vegetables and lentils known as sambhar. The meager 55 rupees, about a dollar and some change, was worth every paisa, the equivalent to a penny. Stuffed, sweating from the heat outside and the spices in our tummies, we departed and headed back to the new hotel to rest up a bit and prepare for the night.
A bit later, Rahul got in contact with one of his friends, Ashutosh, who agreed to meet up with us for dinner that night. Tagging along was the dynamic duo Sonu and Monu, a set of brothers from Bihar, who, although seemingly shy, were quite the hysterical group. We meet up in the streets outside of our hotel, came back to rally, and decided to locate a famous chicken joint known as Karim’s. Given some basic directions, describing that it would be right around the corner, we set off on a 50 minute adventure! Turn this corner, walk straight, turn that corner, walk some more, keep walking, walk a bit further, it is between these two shops, wait no it is not, keep walking, and you get the picture.
Finally, we locate the Mecca that is Karim’s. As happy as we were to finally find dinner, as we were all hungry, we were even more excited about the fact that there was AC in the restaurant, although weak and not very cold, it was better than outside. We ordered a few different dishes to sample, and then I reminded Rahul that he never went to the ATM for dinner cash, as they do not accept card(I am writing this reluctantly).. And the adventure begins again! I stick around with the Bihar duo while we wait for Ashutosh and Rahul to return with payment. The dinner arrives shortly after they leave, and although we are starving, we wait patiently to partake. After about 10 minutes we give them a ring, get a status update of 5 minutes ETA, and continue to wait. Another 10 minutes goes by, and we decide they are not worth waiting for any longer. Right as we start to dig in, they show up—lucky them. The food was amazing! Tandoori chicken, two types of chicken curry (a spicy/sweet combo and a earthy/tomato base), mutton curry, daal makhani, paneer skewers and a few types of rotis garnished the table.
*dinner plates get filled/emptied/filled again, jokes start flying around and time passes*
Stuffed and groggy, we decide to roll out of the restaurant and head back to the hotel to hang out. On the way we grab some beer, which still has yet to be even opened, and bought a few bags of ice. What followed was a few hours of political chatting, whiskey drinking, lots of Hindi being spoken, the white guy being lost, the doorman requesting ID’s for the non-renters on file, and quite a few laughs. On the final warning from the doorman, we parted ways on the promise of lunch the next day. Rahul and I chatted for a bit afterwards about life, and crashed out. It was a good close to the first night in India.
Traffic in Dehli
Last year, during my first year in graduate school, Vignesh, one of my friends and colleagues, shared with me a video of traffic in India. I was quite amazing to see an overhead view of traffic flow in Delhi. In the video, traffic followed its own rules, not the rules of the road that we are familiar with in the US. Once you had a chance to cross, you did so, and commonly 100 vehicles followed stopping the flow from the other direction until they edged in to stop the opposing flow. The video helped to prepare me for what I have experienced in India, but only slightly. Being in the thick of it all is much different than watching a distant video of the craziness that is Delhi traffic.
Traffic in Old Delhi seems to run like several schools of fish swimming through the sea; large metal encased fish that dart around with no regard to lane markings through smog nearly as thick as water. Horns blare frequently stating, “Here I am,” or “I am coming your way.” At night headlights flash constantly as a warning to get out of the way. It is not uncommon to have vehicles just inches from each other travelling at 40km per hour. I even saw one auto rikshaw driver place his foot on the rikshaw in front of his, seemingly to make sure he would not run in to it. Harsh glances are exchanged when you interrupt someone’s personal direction; words that I do not understand are often yelled, most likely condescending in nature; but I have yet to see a single rude gesture.
It is not uncommon to see an auto rikshaw packed with more than the comfortable 3 passengers to help cut costs. By the way, the meter only runs just in case the drivers are pulled over by the police, rates are agreed upon before the trip starts, usually at least twice the cost if it were metered. Motorcycles usually hold 3-5 people on what is intended to seat two. With the hectic traffic, you should buckle up for safety. Oh wait, did I forget to mention no rikshaw I have been in has a seat belt?
Even in all of this craziness, I have yet to observe one accident. We had a few close calls, stopping only inches from the vehicles in front of us, jerking us out of our seats, but not a single collision. No vehicles, people crossing the road sporadically, or the occasional oxen or cow have been struck. This is a good thing, as I have heard that a vehicle hitting a cow or human is typically mobbed, the driver pulled from the vehicle to be “roughed-up” a bit by the angry mob, and then the vehicle is incinerated. You read it right, incinerated. Burned. Set-a-blaze. Roasted. However you may want to say it, the vehicle is burned. And this is never a good thing when the majority of motorized transportation here runs on compressed natural gas. I bet it would make for quite the show though.
The rule of the road are a bit different in New Delhi, traffic signals are actually obeyed! Now it is most likely due to an office being stationed at most intersections, and traffic cams being installed, but hey, the lights make people stop and that is some improvement. Maybe the trickle-down effect will start to occur through the rest of the state, but I do not see that happening any time soon.
Traffic is a great, albeit stressful way, to wake up in the morning, or any time of the day for that matter. I wish you could be here to experience it. It is pretty mind blowing.
Traffic in Old Delhi seems to run like several schools of fish swimming through the sea; large metal encased fish that dart around with no regard to lane markings through smog nearly as thick as water. Horns blare frequently stating, “Here I am,” or “I am coming your way.” At night headlights flash constantly as a warning to get out of the way. It is not uncommon to have vehicles just inches from each other travelling at 40km per hour. I even saw one auto rikshaw driver place his foot on the rikshaw in front of his, seemingly to make sure he would not run in to it. Harsh glances are exchanged when you interrupt someone’s personal direction; words that I do not understand are often yelled, most likely condescending in nature; but I have yet to see a single rude gesture.
It is not uncommon to see an auto rikshaw packed with more than the comfortable 3 passengers to help cut costs. By the way, the meter only runs just in case the drivers are pulled over by the police, rates are agreed upon before the trip starts, usually at least twice the cost if it were metered. Motorcycles usually hold 3-5 people on what is intended to seat two. With the hectic traffic, you should buckle up for safety. Oh wait, did I forget to mention no rikshaw I have been in has a seat belt?
Even in all of this craziness, I have yet to observe one accident. We had a few close calls, stopping only inches from the vehicles in front of us, jerking us out of our seats, but not a single collision. No vehicles, people crossing the road sporadically, or the occasional oxen or cow have been struck. This is a good thing, as I have heard that a vehicle hitting a cow or human is typically mobbed, the driver pulled from the vehicle to be “roughed-up” a bit by the angry mob, and then the vehicle is incinerated. You read it right, incinerated. Burned. Set-a-blaze. Roasted. However you may want to say it, the vehicle is burned. And this is never a good thing when the majority of motorized transportation here runs on compressed natural gas. I bet it would make for quite the show though.
The rule of the road are a bit different in New Delhi, traffic signals are actually obeyed! Now it is most likely due to an office being stationed at most intersections, and traffic cams being installed, but hey, the lights make people stop and that is some improvement. Maybe the trickle-down effect will start to occur through the rest of the state, but I do not see that happening any time soon.
Traffic is a great, albeit stressful way, to wake up in the morning, or any time of the day for that matter. I wish you could be here to experience it. It is pretty mind blowing.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
First post from Delhi - short, but more to come
So the trip started out a bit rough. My mistake in reading the flight departure put us at the Indiana International Airport about 12 hours early. I do have to say, it is better to be early then late for a flight though. After a few hours of Rahul busting my balls over it, he finally let it go, as we had a good time in Chicago killing the hours. We managed to run in to the city for a few hours, visiting Logan Square and eating at a killer hole-in-the wall dinner. It was Rahul's first experience with Cuban food, and I do have to say, it was a great first experience to have. The empanadas and corn cakes were divine.
So after our rousing adventures in Chicago, always a good place to visit, we boarded our plane a bit early. The flight was comfortable, even for 14.5 hours in coach class, and the landing was hardly noticable. Both Rahul and I slept for about 10 hours on the plane, and experienced something that I have never in my life thought was possible--reverse jetlag. That is right, you heard me, REVERSE jetlag. When we arrived at our hotel finally, around 11p IST, more about the hotel in a future post, we decided to walk around the town a bit. We finally crashed out about 2a, and woke up at 5a, do not ask me why.. We have been running on full steam since this morning, about 10 hours ago. So there you have it, 3 hours of sleep, woke up before most of India, and not a nappy eye in sight. = Reverse Jetlag
I would like to give my first impressions, but we are planning on going to some of the markets soon, which is why I have to cut this short. I promise more about the trip in the next 48 hours.
So after our rousing adventures in Chicago, always a good place to visit, we boarded our plane a bit early. The flight was comfortable, even for 14.5 hours in coach class, and the landing was hardly noticable. Both Rahul and I slept for about 10 hours on the plane, and experienced something that I have never in my life thought was possible--reverse jetlag. That is right, you heard me, REVERSE jetlag. When we arrived at our hotel finally, around 11p IST, more about the hotel in a future post, we decided to walk around the town a bit. We finally crashed out about 2a, and woke up at 5a, do not ask me why.. We have been running on full steam since this morning, about 10 hours ago. So there you have it, 3 hours of sleep, woke up before most of India, and not a nappy eye in sight. = Reverse Jetlag
I would like to give my first impressions, but we are planning on going to some of the markets soon, which is why I have to cut this short. I promise more about the trip in the next 48 hours.
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