I can handle the Truth!

We were warned before coming to India that dealing with the locals could be at times difficult.  In particular, Indians have a 'talent' for telling people what they want to hear or they'll tell you what they THINK you want to hear.  What they don't realize is what I (and probably all Westerners) want to hear is the TRUTH!!!

This evening, the girls and I went to a Lindt Chocolate event at the Hyderabad Westin.  They were handing out small boxes of cookies to everyone there.  I instructed both girls, who are allergic to various nuts, to check with me before eating anything.  Inside this little goodie box were small shell shaped madeline cookies with chocolate chips, and seemed innocuous enough.  I asked the girl handing out the boxes if there were any nuts in the cookies.  She didn't know and said she would find out.  She quickly returned saying, "No, no nuts".  Ok, Cory go ahead and have one of the cookies.  Within a few minutes, she looked distressed: "My lips feel funny, I think I'm going to throw up." Hack hack, small splat....Yup, there are definitely cashews or pistachios in those.  Cory and I spent 20 minutes in the ladies room while her little body tried to rid itself of the offending nuts.  Sammy was a good girl and told my good friend what had happened while I ran off with Cory to the loo.  Thankfully Cory's reactions are so quick and noticeable, that she doesn't ingest enough to cause any breathing problems: just swollen lips, and vomiting.  I've never had to use her Epi-pen and I am grateful for that.

Once we returned to the event, I gave the 3rd degree to the staff including the girl who initially reported to me "No, no nuts."  Up the ladder I interrogated, until an assistant manager returned from speaking with the pastry chef who confirmed, "there are walnuts and cashews in the cookies".  Cory figured that out quite a while ago.  They gave apologies, I gave a lecture, they gave more apologies, I spoke with the manager.  All I want is the Truth, and I want someone to discover the Truth if they don't already know it.

Home and Home again

The girls and I spent 5 weeks this summer outside of India.  Bill, being the breadwinner, had to work so he managed a trip to Shanghai, China before returning to India a week before us.  We spent our time away enjoying a long weekend in Dubai, a speed trip to Boston (and a Red Sox Game) and time at our home sweet home in Virginia. Before packing up and heading back to Hyderabad we managed to squeeze in a week visiting Bill's parents in Myrtle Beach.

It's always surprising how easy it is for us to slip back into our comfort zone.  Settling into our own house was like slipping on a comfy pair of slippers after a long winter.  Although we hadn't been there in a while, it felt just like home.  Strangely enough, I felt the same way after returning to Hyderabad.  After a 32 hour journey: car, plane, layover, plane, layover, plane, file complaint about missing baggage, car, I walked into our home here in Hyderabad, sat down in our living room, and amazingly, it felt like home!  I'm pretty lucky that I can leave home, travel 9,000miles over 32 hours, and arrive back home.

Oh What a Heathen I am...

I spent a good chunk of my day today on a multi-phase mission.  This mission sent me down to the old city of Hyderabad, which is the very Muslim part of the city, on a Friday (the holiest day of the week in Islam), around 1pm (when the faithful are at the mosque), with temperatures around 40'C (104'F).  What on earth could this mission be?  Oh yes...I was looking for felt...for a poker table.  

Now I'm going to sit in front of the TV in a tank top and shorts and drink a beer.  Just to make my heathenism complete.  

A Lovely Summer Beverage (courtesy of the Novotel Hyderabad)

Friday mornings I attend a cooking class.  I don't actually cook at cooking class-I watch one of the Novotel hotel's chefs do all of the grunt work.  Then sample what was made :)  It is a very pleasant way to spend a Friday morning.  A typical week's recipes will include a beverage (non-alcoholic), a vegetarian dish, a meat dish, and a dessert.

The primary attendees are expat ladies who are looking for some chit chat, a coffee, and a few recipes.  Apart from the usual crew of expats, there is one Indian woman who occasionally attends (after arriving late) and constantly grills the chef as to how to prepare things without eggs, since she is a strict vegetarian.  (Here, egg yolks are considered non-veg, but the whites are ok).  It has never crossed my mind that one could make a cake without eggs, but rather than listening to the chef's suggestions, I find myself trying to come to terms with the whole "it's ok to eat egg whites, but not the yolk" thing, since you can't crack an egg without getting both.  It's the same for people who don't want to kill cows, but wear leather.  I just don't get it.  Be consistent!!  (Sorry for the small tangent...)

As for the recipes, there are some big hits as well as some big misses.  Sometimes dishes are too spicy, too time consuming, or too laden with oil.  When Indian desserts are demonstrated, we in the audience often gasp, cringe, or just stare in shock at the VOLUME of ghee (clarified butter) and sugar which are the primary ingredients.  Gulab Jamun, which can best be described as a donut hole fried in ghee, then soaked in sugar syrup, is Bill's favorite.  I should really show him the ingredient list which is as follows:
Ghee 2kg
Khoa (a solid milk product) 1kg
Sugar 2kg
Milk 1L
Cardamom Powder 10g 
Vinegar 20g
Saffron 1 pinch 


Watching the demonstration, eyebrows were raised, breaths were held, and cholesterol levels rose as  the chef began by pouring 2kg (4.4lbs) of clarified, melted butter into a large pot, followed by 2kg (4.4lbs) of sugar!!!  This is not to say that the Indian desserts aren't good, but they are typically very very sweet, and definitely not good for the diet.

Other times recipes are big winners when even the most composed ladies can't resist going up to serve themselves another helping, and background conversations end as faces are stuffed.  Such was the case with Chili Paneer, Stuffed Crumb Fried Mushroom with Garlic Aioli, and Aloo Gobi, Mugh Malai Tikka, and several others.

A recent beverage 'winner' was demonstrated few weeks ago: "Watermelon Zo Zo" (they do get creative with the names!), and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who went home and mixed some up:
5 chunks of Watermelon
3 sprigs of mint
splash of Lemon juice (optional)
Sprite


-Put the watermelon chunks into a glass and mash (muddle) them up
add the mint and do the same
add ice
top off with Sprite.


There is currently a stash of mint as well as a small watermelon in my fridge waiting for me to come and dig out a few scoops to mix up my next glass, which reminds me...I'm out of Sprite.

Watermelon Zo Zo: definitely a winner.  :)

Driving in India...or...Why we have a Driver

The traffic here in Hyderabad is not gridlock like you may expect in a city of 6+million people, perhaps because we live in the 'burbs, and perhaps because we don't go anywhere when it's really crowded with vehicles. Even without gridlock, there are plenty of frustrations. The assortment of vehicles is staggering: subcompact cars, motorcycles, bicycles, auto-rickshaws, bull-pulled carts, the ubiquitous Toyota Innovas, white Tata Indica taxicabs, huge and highly decorated "Road King" trucks, tractors pulling various carts and trailers, water buffalo, and pedestrians-we can't forget those brave souls who intersperse themselves in the mele. The honking of horns is heard from every direction and often goes unnoticed.

In addition to the moving hazards, the roads themselves pose their own threat. Instead of closing a road when it is under construction, a common method of blocking off, for example, a freshly dug hole, is to place bowling ball size rocks in front of the precipice. No signs, or warnings, just rocks. On other occasions, one might see huge piles of sand or gravel instead. It is the responsibility of the driver to avoid these literal pitfalls, and swerve, oftentimes, into the oncoming traffic lanes. The oncoming traffic is accustomed to this and is completely unfazed. In the truest sense, everyone really does "Share the Road".

Click here for a great youtube video showing the organized chaos we experience every day.

In the face of this insanity, there is a small daredevil part of me that desires to join in the fray. That would mean both driving on the left side of the road (and car) and driving a standard transmission car, which, in my defense, I can do-although not well. Imagine the freedom of no real traffic lights, stop signs, and driving lanes! While driving standard transmission cars, I have the most difficulty going from stopped into 1st gear, so here I could feasibly only need to do that once per outing! Once I overcame the left side of the road, and the transmission, I would have to tackle that great unknown: the traffic. So for the time being, my inner daredevil is staying quietly subdued and strapped into the back seat while our trusty driver, Prasad, deals with the chaos around us.

There and Back

Our first trip home from India met all of our expectations and surpassed some. The crushing jet-lag, happiness at seeing friends and family we missed, the shocking amount of snow that fell our first weekend back, all were lasting memories of our time home. What was probably the most surprising thing was that after 5 weeks in the US we were eager to return to India. Certainly the warm temps that awaited us in Hyderabad were a factor, but more so was the life we left: one where we see friends frequently, have places to go, events to attend, school for the girls, a maid to clean, and the constant reminders of how lucky we are and how much we have.

I know that some friends and family members thought we were completely crazy to move to India, and would think about all the things/events they'd miss by being away from home. What I was able to put my finger on while at home was: life is what happens to you, not what happens around you. During the 8 months we were away, we didn't miss a thing.

Now that we've returned to India, Bill and I have decided that we're going to do an even better job of getting out, getting together and doing things. In the words of the great Bon Jovi:
"It's my life, it's now or never.
I ain't gonna live forever.
I just want to live while I'm alive...it's my life. "

Did anybody miss me?

When you're away from home from an absurdly long time, you often wonder: "Am I out of sight, and out of mind?" or "Did people actually miss me while I was gone?" These types of thoughts had been going through my mind lately as our return to the US drew closer. Then yesterday, I received an email from a friend about a girls weekend she had planned. In it she wrote: "When I figured out you would be back and could come, I nearly wet myself!!! P L E A S E come with us ... P L E A S E!!!!"

Questions answered. Thanks C!