DAY 22 WITHOUT WAWA

Originally Posted: February 15, 2015

Day 22 without Wawa: Not only surviving, but thriving.

March 18th greeted me with delicious smells chased with matching tastes. Aunty, Apoorva and I kicked it off with pancakes, toast spread with Russian dressing, scrambled cheese eggs, and chocolate milk. We could have called it day after that and it would’ve been a fulfilling day. That’s not how days work, however, so we had plenty of time to try to make this one even better.

The hallways leading to Apoorva’s apartment are sort of outdoors. This is the view over the edge of the hallway.

Unfortunately for me (and probably a relief for them), we were closing in on the end of my stay in Gurgaon. Aunty said she couldn’t let me leave India without taking me out to lunch at a local hotspot called Cafe Delhi Heights! I’m glad she felt that way because wow, that place is seriously wonderful. It also happens to be one of the rare places in India that you can order a beef burger. I loved their menu so much I had to post some of it for you to enjoy.

Child Beer?

Looking at the menu, I saw a wide array of tempting options, each looking more enticing than the last. I spotted the highly esteemed JUICY LUCY, a lamb burger that had been highly recommended from day one and something I was looking forward to get my hands on. There was also chicken cacciatore, famous thai red curry, biriyani, fondu, Australian grilled lamb chops, red snapper, roasted lamb, and multi mushroom stroganoff!

I looked our waitress dead in the eye, “I’ll have the beef burger.”

Sorry I’m not sorry. I’m a shot caller and I won’t apologize for my decisions. In my defense, it had already been nearly four weeks since I’d had a trusty beef burger, and sometimes there’s no way to keep your American on a leash for that long.

Aunty and I at Cafe Delhi Heights. Thanks for making this whole trip possible and for being an incredibly kind and generous host! And no that’s not paint on my face it’s a just a scratch from wrestling at the akhara! Fond memories

Glancing around, I realized that the interior of this place was hard to stop looking at. Along the wall to my right were professional photos of many Indian landmarks, and I was pleased to realize that I had already been to a majority of the sites pictured. There was a half decent mural on the wall and a cricket game on tv. There were drapes around the booths and painted red pipes. There is no word to fully describe the eclectic decor and atmosphere in this place, but I enjoyed every second.

Cricket games were always on TVs, pretty much wherever you went

Looking at the wall trying to figure out which of these photos are of sites that I’d already explored. A little over half

When Apoorva’s strawberry lemonade came out I immediately realized my water needed an upgrade. A second one arrived at our table shortly thereafter. This strawberry lemonade was certainly no American flavored water bs. No. This was a frothy cold liquid smoothie with chunks of fruit in it and the deep magenta-red color alone had more flavor than American juice drinks. Even the girth of the straw itself sent a clear message: I am not to be trifled with.

You know your drink is serious when you can fit your pinky in the straw.

The burger that followed did not disappoint. Although it wasn’t an American burger, it came dangerously close. Kudos Cafe Delhi Heights; you’ve won me over.  Apoozle had some type of penne in alfredo sauce that, judging from my photo, was bangin, while I think Aunty ordered the Juicy Lucy. My beef burger was a welcome taste of home.

The American fiesta in my mouth was brought to an unceremonious end when we stepped back out in to the Indian sun, which was short lived before we hopped in the elevator down to the garage under the building. This garage is full of cars packed like sardines. Apoorva’s car is tiny so it works out. I’m trying to imagine my mom driving her Suburban in here and it elicits images of a big Chevy Godzilla crushing little Indian cars under its wheels. In this parking garage, paying for parking (or not paying, I should say) is hit or miss. It mostly depends on if the parking guy is actually standing at the entrance when you pull up, which is a total crap shoot. If he is, he approaches your car. Sometimes we roll down the window and talk with him and give him however many rupees he wants, other times Apoorva just gives him a wave and a smile and rolls on by him. It’s kinda informal around here.

That night gave us a beautifully tranquil and cloudless sunset. We were front row spectators to a seamless transition between a gunmetal blue trickling down to a weak orange. A great way to unwind from they type of day you really don’t need any unwinding from.

Second photo of the day from the Apoorva’s hallway, looking out between the towers to the West.

I was starting prepare for my departure, and had to make sure I had a few trinkets and things to take home with me. The trinkets would come in a shopping trip to Cannaught Place the next day, but It was time to address my real needs: sweets. At the pre-Holi ceremony and a few other points during my stay, I’d fallen in love with little half moon pleasures called Gujias. They’re basically minature Indian hot pockets full of sweet things and slightly glazed with a maple syrup-like coating of goodness. Apoorva took me to the Bikanervala outlet store in a nearby stripmall that had more sweets and Indian pastries/desserts than I could imagine. I ordered one Kilo of gujias. I paid but they were so busy I think they forgot about my order. Apoorva went and told them off in Hindi and out they came! The rest of the night involved a stop at Apoorva’s aunt’s house that put the finishing touch on an outstanding day.

Bikanervala run for a Kilo of Gujias! Gujia = the thing cut in half on the white plate near the upper left of this photo

At Apoorva’s aunt’s house, this was in the entrance hallway. I just thought all these little Indian statues looked really cool!

Because no one knows what gujias are, I added a couple photos of them below. They’re like three inches of awesomeness, second only to gulab jamuns (the sticky golfball pancakes). They were all sporadically coated in patches of silver which is so unbelievably thin that you can just eat it. Many of Bikanervala’s more lavish desserts have full silver coatings.

HOLI COW!

Originally Posted: January 23, 2015

I woke up on the morning of March 17th, 2014 more excited than I did on the morning of December 25th. Imagine waking up on Christmas morning as a 23 year old who’s never had the chance to celebrate a Christmas before. No sooner had my eyes opened than my feet hit the floor, ready for what could possibly be my most fun day in India. After showering, I put on my Holi clothes: a plain white tee and a pair of shiny white basketball shorts that I thought looked really cool in 10th grade. I walked into the living room where I met Apoorva and Aunty and together we filled the room with the smell of toast, Slice mango juice, and happy chatter about what the day would have in store.

Not my photo, this is what the bags of color looked like

First up on the docket was the Regency Park Apartment complex Party. Apoorva couldn’t help herself to build it up, and it didn’t disappoint! After breakfast we took the elevator down to the ground floor and walked outside. The concrete courtyard between the two main buildings, which was normally reserved for a few old people and an occasional dog walker, was brimming with party. Packed with color. Water. Noise. It’s just what I imagined, but wetter. 10 AM offered us a beautiful clear blue sky and a hot sun, and we were eager to take advantage of it.

There were children everywhere; old women, old men. Parents laughing and joyous voices blanketing the whole Park. The three of us navigated through the whirling sea of ecstatic youth and made our way to the center of it all. In front of us was a tower or balcony of sorts about 20-25 feet tall with a DJ on it pumping the jams. off to the left, obstructed from my view by the crowd, was a fire hose aimed vertically, launching a fat jet of water many stories high. While the water going up was a solid thunderous stream, it spread near it’s peak and returned, showering water indiscriminately on the Holi-ers.

There’s no nicer group of people than a pack of Indians “playing Holi,” as they called it. I was walking around the place with a bag of color, throwing it at kids, smearing it on people my age, and respectfully dabbing it on the elders. Throw one handful, take the playful return fire to the face as you reach for the next handful. It’s a cross between a block party, holiday, and what I imagine the Blue Man Group’s 9th birthday party would have been like. I don’t recall how, but I got my hands on one of the many waterguns kids were wielding and filled it in one of the massive tubs of colored water. Started blasting. The fun level rose steadily with the sun, but before we knew it we had to head back inside to get ready. That was the pre-party; a Holi appetizer.

We went inside, pretended to clean ourselves up, and met Dhruv. Vedanti and Rhea joined shortly after. The five of us had tickets procured via connections or something to this big Holi party at a big farm. I obviously knew the least about what was going to happen that day, but I’m intelligent enough to pick up on the fact that it was worth getting excited about. I was having trouble figuring out if this event we were going to was technically legal. It seemed like a legitimate event, what with professionally made tickets and a whole venue rented and all. On the other hand, the conversation on the way there trended on “I hope we don’t get caught.” The occasional thought of concern was quickly overruled by the two words that precede every great decision: “f*** it!”

Dhruv, Apoorva and I at the start of the Holi Cow Festival

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, and while I’ve included photos mixed into my story below, 30 frames per second means a LOT of words, so below is a video which captures the essence. This is Holi in all it’s glory – from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani. Didn’t even spell check that. How’s my Hindi?

If you’re too lazy to check the clip, the easiest way for Americans to understand this Holi party is to just think miniature Indian Firefly Festival meets Color Run sans running.

“Holi Cow,” as the event was known, promised three things: color, music, and good times. There was food, a pool, a higher than normal concentration of fellow white people for some reason, a few different stages with many many different artists playing throughout the day, and “bhang.” I have to admit, the first few days I heard the word thrown around I thought Apoorva was saying pong in her standard Indian accent (see three/tdee). Turns out, it’s “bhang,” not pong, and instead a fun game of mini-hoops that I usually dominate, it refers to a beverage. Bhang is, from what I gathered, a milk-looking drink made with marijuana leaves, and EVERYONE drinks it on Holi. Yes… weed milk. After spending 40 minutes trying to find this place and driving down the bumpiest road we could find, the car slowed and we finally creeped into a crowd of Holi Cowers.

We passed through security, they gave each of us a lei, and we entered the compound. A stage and a large flat grassy lawn gave way to another lounge area. Around the massive bathroom and bar lines, we found the yard curving. On the left, an entrance in a wall from whence an endless stream of soaking wet people emerged, while other dry people waited to enter. The pool party zone, apparently. We followed the lawn around to the right, and found the food court area and another, much larger stage. Music from whatever band was performing filled the air. Anticipating a great chance of getting soaked and messy, we all put our phones in a plastic bag that someone hid or held onto, I don’t know and can’t remember. Anyway, it was just us, the immense potential to lose each other, and empty pockets.

Rhea and Vedanti before things got messy

The five of us!

We all made our way back to the gate in the wall, which opened up into a large pool party. On the left hand side of the pool was an in-pool bar you could swim up to, and opposite us, about 20 feet down a short hill from the pool was yet another small stage with a DJ on it playing random electro/techno/house/hip-hop. The color was endless, and the pool had turned a festive pinkish color. Throughout the day, it shifted through different reddish-pinkish-purple hues, depending on what the popular colors of the hour were. By the end of the day, it had lost its luster and shifted more in the direction of brown after so many colors had filled it. It also may have been a result of the mud pit in front of the DJ… Can’t tell if it was by design or purely accident, but water from the pool splashed down the hill all day, and the ravers in front of the DJ were constantly churning the ground to thick mud.


This is a tiny clip from the pool party of me jumping in, and one of the only videos I have from Holi Cow.

copyright Dhruv Kalra Photography. L to R – Apoorva’s back, Dhruv, Rhea, Crazy fun dude, rando rando rando not me more randos. Thanks for cropping me and Vedanti out of the shot Mr. Photo man.

copyright Dhruv Kalra Photography. L to R – Apoorva’s back, Dhruv, Rhea, Crazy fun dude, rando rando rando not me more randos. Thanks for cropping me and Vedanti out of the shot Mr. Photo man.

Found this photo on the Holi Cow facebook page, I’m in the white shorts on the edge of the pool

The pool. There was some dude with a GoPro who kept asking me to do backflips into the pool. Still mad I can’t find his movie online anywhere

Dhruv looks like he’s had a little too much bhang

We did a lot of things, making one-day friends, splashing and cannonballing, going around to the different stages to dance to different types of what I would call Hindi-rock. Get it? Lame. Anyway, it was a few very different party feels all rolled into one, and could be most easily described as bliss.

The stage in front of the larger dance area had different bands playing all day.

Not my photo, just some DJ’s from a Holi Cow festival, although I think this was from 2010

One of the singers (photo copyright Dhruv Kalra) at the Festival we were at. Diggin the kermit look. She makes it look easy being green

There were different bands and artists performing on the stage all day, like the two DJs and singer above. Vedanti or Rhea knew someone in one of the bands, so part of the time was spent hanging backstage with the band. They seemed really chill, but given that I was the only person not smoking cigarettes (still super popular in India), I eventually took that time to go adventuring on my own. That didn’t last long though, as they caught up to me shortly after and we started dancing.

Apoorva got a little camera happy

And we were just happy

Had to show these clowns how to Rockette. Dhruv’s almost there. Vedanti is baffled

Not my photo, I just hope I get to celebrate Holi here one day.

Also not my photo, but it’s a beautiful one. Please forgive my use of the attractive woman staring seductively at the camera. The last time I set a really attractive woman as the link photo to the blog, my blog view stats for that post more than tripled the normal amount #facts. It’s good to know people come for my stories lol.

I’m gonna take credit for this photo, although Rhea may claim she took it

Apoorva and the selfies. Thank me for not putting up the 37 others.

The day slowed down after we had left the pool and had enough dancing by the second stage. We ended up laying in the grass in front of the much more chill hippie stage area and relaxed. We were tired and dehydrated and the slower music emanating from this stage was more tuned to what we needed by late afternoon. Eventually, we left with nothing but freshly squeezed lingering memories and a longing for a cool shower on our minds.

We’re beat. Slower jams on the first stage was a good place to relax

Eventually we partied ourselves out. We ate some pizza, the others indulged in their weed-milk (and no, I did not partake). Come to think of it, I didn’t DD either, because to be honest, a native Indian high as a kite still probably has a better chance of making it home safely than an American driving a vehicle on those streets. I don’t know if I blogged about it already but I drove once while in India and that was enough.

Hippies doing their thang. This guy was a REALLY good cover musician

Apoorva likes selfies

Long after becoming content that we had gotten our money’s worth from this little gem of a festival, we went home. We showered immediately, and although I have no photos from the rest of the day, I’m sure it involved a much needed nap and some chai. :)

VISHNU AND A TIGER HUNT; HOLI EVE

Originally posted: January 16th, 2015

Pre-Holi ceremony

Turns out I skipped the second half of March 15th that should have been added to my last post, so here it is in all it’s glory.

It was approaching dinner time, and we had visitors at the apartment to celebrate the pre-kickoff of Holi. The dinner party consisted of me, Apoorva, Her Mom, Grandfather (aka Nana**), Aunt & Uncle, and Cousin Dhruv. This was a special night because it marked the start of Holi, which is a holiday that, I can assure you, all Hindus go absolutely bananas for. Holi is also (sources tell me) the Hindu new year and symbolic start of Summer. The holiday is based in legend, and that legend goes a little sum-somethin like thissssss… (bulleted for time)

– King Hiranyakashipu gets a badass boon that makes him invincible
– He gets cocky, makes everyone worship him and not the other gods
– His son Prahlada is like, “Naaa pops, I’m gonna give love to Vishnu and worship him cause he’s a boss.”
– King longname is most displeased. Tries to punish him in a million ways, eventually burning him in a fire
****Cue Holika, enters from stage left****
– Holika (the King’s evil sister) tricks Prahlada into sitting in a fire with her, but she’s secretly wearing a fireblanket (I’m picturing one of those crinkly inside-of-a-sun-chip-bag lookin blankets that marathoners sport post-race)
– Plan backfires, the blanket envelops Prahlada, Holika goes up in flame instead. The King is like WHAAAA, this shit’s wack, and then Vishnu shows up and kills his evil ass.

Analysis – Pyre of Fire translates to light, goodness, etc. Vishnu comes out on top, I hope Prahlada thanked Vishnu, and the holiday of Holi was thus born to celebrate it all. The holiday of color and love that also serves as their symbolic start of spring and the point at which Indians can ditch all the pants and long sleeves for more reasonable attire.

Disclaimer: if you want a more accurate recounting of events, please seek a Hindu person, cause I may have missed a few things or introduced subtle inaccuracies into the plot. ANYWAY, there we were, hanging out in Auntie Mathur’s condo, chilling.

COLOR! – notice the box of gujias at the top of the photos mmmmm

We had ourselves a lovely dinner and good conversation. —OH PS – I’m serving up a hot story about a tiger hunt at the end of this post, so don’t bail on me now— We ate wonderful food, which I’m assuming was delicious and right in my danger zone of spiciness, but I was only sweating from my forehead and not drooling or crying or anything drastic, so I’d say I was handling the dinner well. After dinner, the box of Gujias came out, and if you don’t know what they are, order some. Pay the shipping. It’ll cost you, but it’ll be worth it. They’re basically little pastries stuffed with delicious sweet things and glazed with a light coating of something I will, for lack of any term at all, call maple syrup. Traditionally, the family gets together the night before Holi for this ceremony, but in this case we did it two nights before for logistical reasons. It is traditional to eat sweet things and say sweet things about other people so that you “enter the new year with a sweet taste in your mouth.” After we enjoyed dinner and the sweet treats for dessert, the small ceremony happened.

Since it is the festival of color, they pulled out these bags of color… Being somewhat of a mediocre artist, I think of color in hues and tones and wavelengths. Intangible. But here I was holding heavy, store-bought bags of color with my hands.
“What is it?”
“It’s color?”
“I mean, what is it really?”
“Color. What do you mean what is it?”
I give up. It turned out to be just basically dyed flour, but no no no, it’s not dyed flour, it’s color. For accuracy’s sake, they could have said “messy color” #waytowearanicewhiteshirtApoorva
Anyway, Nana, the grandfather, went first, taking some pinches of color, and after bowing his head and saying some prayers to a cabinet full of gods, sprinkled some color into the cabinate over statues of Vishnu (the god most closely associated with Holi) and Ganesh (elephant boss who’s like the Mathur family’s favorite choice of god/main god/based god). Then we each took turns in descending order of age, saying a prayer and spritzing Vishnu and Ganesh and the rest in the cabinet with color. I wonder how my prayers compared to Nana’s. After that, we gathered in the middle of the family room for the ceremonial dabbing of color on peoples faces. Nana put some on Aunty Mathur’s chin and cheeks, and she returned the favor, then other people started doing it, so I joined in, YAY!
Ummmmm, turns out there’s a specific order that it was supposed to happen in, and boy did I blow it. Everyone kinda stopped and looked at me. Walk it off. Holi 0, Colin -1.

Anyway, I was not ridiculed or made fun of or laughed at (that I know of) or stoned or berated or relegated to the kids table or sent directly to hell. They went with it and we had a good time putting color on each other, while trying not to get it on the nice white furniture. GREAT SUCCESS!

We were settled into chairs and chaises and couches as the night wound down and the group traded ceremony for conversation. Near the end of the night, Nana captured everyone’s attention by bringing up a story about his father-in-law, who was a financial advisor for the Emperor at the time. One day, the Emperor invited this man, Apoorva’s mother’s father’s wife’s dad, to come on a hunt with him in the jungle. I’m assuming that this must have been a great honor, after all, it’s not like anyone I know’s been invited to go hunting with Obama (although perhaps Washington doesn’t go hunting since that time Dick shot an attorney in the heart). Anyways, they’re out hunting, and a tiger comes out of nowhere! In a wildly incomprehensible moment, the tiger leaps through the air towards the Emperor. In one quick motion, Nana’s father-in-law wheels, raises his weapon, and fires a shot right into the great feline assassin, killing it and saving the Emporer’s life. As a token of appreciation for saving his life, the Emperor later bequeaths unto him a grand estate worth untold lakhs. That is why Nana’s wife was considered a sort of princess. Although she denies it on a technicality about how her Nani married into a non-“royal” family, I’d say that makes Apoorva like 1/4 Indian princess.

No one could really hold a candle to that story, so the night petered out shortly thereafter. With a belly full of good food and a mind full of good stories, I do believe I slept quite well that night.

The next day was a day of wrestling at the akhara. That night was pretty relaxing, and included good food and a walk through her beautiful gated apartment complex.

Somethin tasty

View from the balcony during golden hour

Apoorva likes to pull her socks halfway down her foot to ‘cool off.’ #notnormal

GrandAunty liked to sit by the window in the late afternoon as the sun set

We went for a walk before passing out.

Looking down from the hallway outside their door

Check back later for my next post which will include accounts of one of the coolest parties I’ve ever been to, and the day-long celebration of HOLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you are Hindu or just more knowledgeable, feel free to comment any corrections/insights about the story of Holi or anything else.

**Nana (pronounced Nah-Nah) is the Hindi word for the maternal grandfather, which is confusing because Nana (pronounced NAN-uh) is a word for a grandmother in english, (and what I call my Mom’s Mom)

PUMP-FAKE TO JAIPUR

Originally posted: January 13th, 2015

I’M BACK! #letsdothis

On the next day of my trip, March 14th, I woke up to go practice the ancient martial art of Kushti, or Indian wrestling. That’s already been covered in my blog though, so if you want to read about that or just go for the photos of me wearing next to nothing, sweating, and covered in mud, here ya go (If I were a hot girl, promoting my blog would be SO easy):

First day of Kushti

Second day of Kushti

Since that’s already been covered, we fast forward to the following day, March 15th, which was the big day trip to Jaipur, a beautiful city with historical and architectural intrigue. Known as the Pink City for its many structures with a pinkish hue, it is one of the “must-sees” for Northern India. We had this whole Saturday picked out in advance for our Jaipur trip, so woke bright and early and got ready to embark on the day trip of a lifetime; I was so excited! I’m struggling to recall if Nilesh was with us, but I hope so, cause he’s dope and has great taste in music (very important on long car rides). Anyway, we got in the car, and our driver whisked us away on an adventure sure to be filled with exciting places, beautiful sights, fascinating people, and a day of exploring with close friends. 

“Hawa Mahal” Palace of the Winds (not my photo)

View out the window as we approach a toll. I LOVED these birds

Sitting. Creeping forward a few feet. Sitting again. Early morning cacophony of horns and occasional shouting. Waiting. This is traffic in Delhi. I was willing to endure, because being in a foreign country is like being 7 months old again; everything is riveting and sitting in a car on a packed highway with friends certainly isn’t the worst thing in the world. Having grown up in Delhi, however, my companions were not as keen on the prospect of sitting in traffic for possibly the next 7 hours. Also, Apoorva had been to Jaipur with other people numerous times so it really wasn’t worth it. We turned around after 40 minutes and saved ourselves the hassle. The way I see it, not going to Jaipur means I’ll just have to make another trip to India. 

Not my photo. I googled Jaipur and found this… Apparently men ride lions there, as if I needed another reason to go

We navigated our way home, and passed the final stop on Apoorva’s metro line, HUDA City Centre, which the architect obviously modeled after the beautiful marriage of a Carnival Cruise and the Starship Enterprise (see below). We arrived home just in time for nap time. I can’t get over how many warm fuzzies I get just reminiscing on this trip.

Are we in space? – HUDA City Center, the final station on Apoorva’s metro line

Woke up from my nap to catch a peeping tom. Goodmorning friend! I was half waiting for him to fly into the room!

We woke up from our nap and had to figure out what to do for the day. We called up some friends and met them at Cyber Hub, a kind of shopping village/series of strip malls with great restaurants and an always bustling population. We went to Starbucks and Apoorva bought me a berry iced tea thing (so kind)(ps.. I tried to pay, but sometimes, when you’re a guest overseas, that just doesn’t work) that was really refreshing and tasty and really helped to cool me down. All the brown people got coffee cause I guess when you grow up in India, 85º (29º C) doesn’t phase you and you’re just like, ‘yeah, I’m not sweating and I can totally order a cup of steaming hot drink right now and be fine.’ We sat outside and chatted and I went back to my favorite hobby, people watching.

This is our view outside of Starbucks.

This is the last photo I have from the 15th, so I’m not really sure what we did with the rest of the day/night. Apoorva if you see this and recall, feel free to comment with your version of events. I’m guessing it involved hanging out at Rhea’s with Tara and Vedanti and Allie Cat (her dog) and having a wonderful time. I must say, Apoorva chose some awesome people to be close with. A1

Random thoughts:

Since it has been months since my trip, I’m writing the remaining blog posts from memory. My process is simple. Because iPhoto (bless it’s soul) automatically separates photos by date, I just open up the folder for one of the days, look at the photos, recreate what happened that day from the photos, tell you about it in the least boring way I can manage, add my favorite/relevant photos to the text, and hit publish. Generally speaking, I’m doing one blog post for each day. Amazingly simple. The best part is, since re-embarking on my bloggarific quest, going through this process is like I’m reliving the whole adventure. It’s a trip.

If you’re here but don’t have time to read, hope you enjoy the photos! <– most useless sentence ever. Note: All photos in this blog are mine unless stated otherwise

I just had surgery a few days ago and am home from work and on Oxy, so I hope these blog posts from the past few days have made sense.

Anyways, until we meet again, stay classy.

 

Jacobpura, Sector-12A, Gurgaon, Haryana 122001, India

INDIA’S GARDEN GAME ON POINT

Originally posted: January 11th, 2015

My life in India was made up of best day ever after best day ever. I’ve never felt so alive as I did in my month abroad, and March 13th was no exception (and by that I mean it was exceptional). Imagine actually living the life you advise other people to live when you put up inspiring quotes about ‘getting the most out of every second’ in a fancy font on your instagram page as you sit on their ass and binge watch House of Cards. There’s something about being in a foreign place that amped up my desire to see, to feel, to taste and smell. To introduce myself to people whose actions cause their path in life to bump gently into mine. To ask questions, to walk down streets not as a means of reaching a destination, but to experience the street itself. Each second has meaning, each day offers me 24 hours to learn as much as I want about this matrix into which we are all placed, and I can do with it whatever I want. It’s an attitude I’m sad to say I haven’t quite retained as well as hoped. Not to say I don’t get out and live, but nothing compares to the traveling lifestyle.

The breakfast of eggs and toast with Russian dressing, the metro ride to Delhi, talking with Apoorva, listening to strangers, seeing interactions, looks, smiles, a playful punch between teenage boys. It’s all learning. Watching and learning. Listening. All before the “day” started. Said goodbye to Apoorva at work and took off on foot towards my favorite spot in Delhi, Lodhi Garden. The temperature was in the sweet spot, not as hot as the previous day, but the sun still warmed all the skin it could find. Inside Lodhi Garden was bright and beautiful, with shadows from many types of trees and leaves decorating the paths with fancy designs. I walk toward a large ancient building and climb the age old stairwell to the interior of the domed space. To my left was a massive archway through which a sprawling expanse of stepped patio laid warming in the direct sunlight.

A man approached me and started talking to me, kindly enough. Conversation turned seamlessly from my background and my trip to the place where we stood, and the history carved into the stone. He was very knowledgable, and started walking around with me, telling me the secrets of the sculptures. For 15 minutes we walked, him doing the talking, me doing the asking and the learning. He shook my hand and thanked me for listening, and said it was customary that people offered him a 500 rupee ‘thank you’ for his sharing of information. I hate this. I gave him a thank you, but one that was nowhere near what he claimed was ‘customary.’ Bye.

Sat and drew on the ledge in the middle ground on the right.

The diversity of life here is amazing. Not so much in the human form, but the plants and rest of the animal kingdom is reppin hard

Spent half the day wondering if this girl was famous or just a bride to be trying to get some good shots

I walk out on to the patio and sit with my legs dangling off the edge, 10-15 feet above the spotted yard below, when the heroine arrived. A beautiful woman, with long black hair flowing into her long black sari with gold accents. In a matter of seconds, from security guards to little boys, to a group of girls on a school trip, every foot was still, and every eye following her progress across the grass. She was accompanied by a man, and I watched the two pass under my vantage point and walk up the tiered patio on which I sat. Without much hesitation, the photo shoot started, her posing, him dancing around the steps, shooting and getting what I’m sure were some great photos. Eventually, the security guard overcame his gawking and approached them, apparently telling them they weren’t allowed to shoot there. This was baffling, because it seemed like a free enough space, and I’m not sure what rules they have against photo shoots for Shraddha Kapoor looking women in Lodhi Garden.

 

Product of my doodles of the morning. May have taken some artistic liberties with reality

This building has many facets of historical significance. Most recently, it’s role has been photo shoot set

After she left, I spent a couple hours sitting and thinking, drawing, watching kids play in the gardens, and teens from some type of group trip flirting amongst themselves. I finished my drawing (not before some Japanese tourists complimented me) and reclined, laying my back on the warm, almost flat stones and watching the birds dance around their cobalt stage. A phone call from Apoorva to check in on me and invite me to lunch pulled me from my mind and back into the real world, and I headed off to meet her for lunch!

Got the shot. Didn’t die.

The dining area at the Indian Habitat Center is one of the best places to eat. But I have a lot to report on, so I’ll save this for another day. I ate there plenty. Also. Penalty. I don’t know if it’s an Indian thing or just a food thing, but they call the cakes there “Penalty” because they’re so damn good and unhealthy you’re penalizing your body if you eat them. Chances are fairly high that Apoorva just made that shit up, but hey, this is her country and I’m not gonna question it.

I left lunch and took an auto to the metro stop, then hopped a train South out of Delhi to the closest station to the Garden of the Five Senses. While I was still in an area that offered wifi, I loaded up Google maps and screenshotted all of the maps I would need to navigate my way from the station to the Garden and back without getting lost in the Indian hood.

On my walk to the Garden of the Five Senses, I followed this street for about 20 minutes.

The Garden of the Five Senses was a nice place to walk, but was rather dry. It is also apparently the hot spot to take a date, because it was occupied by no one but me and 50 couples wandering the paths. I was content to sit on a shady bench and draw a beautiful stone clearing, which offered me not only a pleasant environment, but the entertainment of watching two skittish girls attempt to get on a camel. I put my sketchpad down and just watched while trying not to laugh out loud. Life’s little pleasures.

I made plans to meet up with Apoorva as the day wound down and left the Garden. Walking home, I came around a bend in the road to find a bull standing in the middle of the road and a few people standing well back watching it. I started to walk to the left of the sidewalk to give it a wide berth when I the bull ran forward, I quickly threw it in reverse, back pedaling, thinking he was going to crunch the car between us. It was then that I realized there was a second bull I did not see on the other side of the car. The two butted heads and wrestled each other for a bit, and I stood back in amazement. The two bulls broke apart, staring at each other, circling. A standoff wrought with suspense for everyone involved, including us spectators. They came together again, and the larger bull pushed the other up over the other sidewalk and up an adjoining street. I briskly walked past the area and kept on my journey through the dry streets back to the station.

 

Saw it and knew we had to do it. Go big or go home.

I met up with Apoorva, and upon arriving home, she told me she would take me to go do the flying ball ride thingy that Auntie and I had spotted outside the Kingdom of Dreams. This was beyond exciting and I was giddy the whole way there. The ride consisted of an eight foot ball, tied with giant glorified rubberbands between two sticks shooting a hundred feet or so out of the ground. You climb in the ball while it’s locked to the ground, they crank the bands super tight, and then let fly. We yelled the whole way as we shot straight to the sky, spinning backwards, and forwards. As we hit the zenith of our ride, we slowed to a fleeting stop and caught a glimpse of all of Gurgaon and Delhi’s suburbs stretch towards the sunset. It was a quarter second, it was upside down, it was colorful, and it was breathtaking. We started plummeting towards the ground and began yelling again, it was so much fun. We slowed before hitting the ground, and shot back up, bouncing up and down until we came to a stop and they lowered us back down. A perfect way to end the day. We hit up some shops on the way back and I picked up some dirt cheap drawing supplies and we got some deli meat. Home included chai and pleasant conversations, and thus concluded a day of my life I would happily relive if I could.

I owe so much to Apoorva, Auntie, and Apoorva’s grandmother for letting me stay with them, and any reminiscing on my journey always comes with the standard rush of gratitude for them and their extended family who welcomed me. The greatest experience of my life is due to their generosity, hospitality, and overall willingness to bend their lives to show me the glory that is India. I just became so moved I had to send Apoorva another thank you snapchat. Cheerio!

 

No one’s scared of terrorists quite like Indians, and their omnipresent security reflects that. Don’t play around in the metro, there’s AK’s peering around.

DAY OF THE TOMBS

Originally posted: January 11th, 2014

I apologize for the long hiatus, life happens. I left off on March 11th, and writing about my travels was quickly occupying an ever-increasing amount of time I would much rather spend exploring and getting lost in the beautifully fascinating city of Delhi than writing. I realized I could write about my journey at any time, but my precious seconds in the foreign country kept ticking away. I decided the writing could wait, I wanted to see as much as I could, engage with as many strangers as I could, and smell the smells and walk as many sidewalks and curious alleyways as I could before my limited time there expired. Upon returning to the States, I got a job, injured myself, took some trips and saw friends, and my duty to my memoirs escaped me. Let’s see if I can chronicle the remainder of my adventures without life getting in the way again.

We pick up on March 12th, which I’ve christened the Day of the Tombs. I had spent much of the previous night staying up writing, and was exhausted as I left Apoorva at work and walked East towards the Isa Khan Tomb near the edge of the city and the Yamuna River. It was hot, with temperatures into the 80s, and despite being the only male not outfitted in dress shirt, slacks, and a sweater vest, I was sweating in my t shirt and loose jeans. The Indian sun rose and began to bake me, which compounded with my lack of sleep, resulted in me taking a seat right there on the sidewalk under a low hanging branch which both shielded me from the beating sun and the notice of the frequent unobservant passerby. I relished the reprieve from the heat, able to watch people of all walks pass by, nearly all oblivious to my gaze. I twisted my backpack strap around my leg (my antitheft device) as I leaned back against a low wall and drifted off.

After an unknown amount of time passed napping on the Delhi sidewalk, I woke up semi-refreshed, and continued East. I walked through a street full of people that had commandeered the roadway and converted it to a living space. It’s pretty easy to be overwhelmed with a sense of gratefulness with all you have when walking through a place like this. The poverty was real, it was suffocating. Uncomforable even. I’d never felt a sense of guilt for having the simplest things, a backpack with two bottles of potable water. I was greeted with smiles, or just stared at. Eventually the roadway mini-village ended, and I was back walking along the yellow and black striped curbs of one of the offshoots of Lodi Road. Eventually I made it to where I thought I was headed, Isa Khan’s Tomb. 

After paying a few Rs. to get in, I found myself in a beautiful lush green park with palm trees and high stone walls. I navigated the perfectly manicured sidewalks and up a set of stairs through an archway that opened up into a large, gorgeous, octagonal courtyard with the centerpiece, Isa Khan’s Tomb positioned powerfully dead ahead. The entranceway was in the outer wall and was flanked by a little room on either side, which had wide low stone windows overlooking the yard. I pulled out my sketchbook, sat in the windowsill, and drew for a while, drinking in all the colors, lights and darks that I could.

Sitting here drawing, this group of hippies came in and stood chatting for 5 minutes before realizing I was sitting quietly in the corner with my sketchbook lol

After drawing, people watching, and exploring the amazing detail of the tomb itself, I left by early afternoon and made my way down the street towards the even more grandiose Humayun’s Tomb. THIS PLACE IS THE BOMMMBBBBB dot com

I read some of the informational pieces in the entrance building, I took some photos, I wandered the very green lawns and developed a bit of a following. There’s something about being a big white guy in India that automatically grants you D-list celebrity status. I went to a spot in front of and to the left of the tomb’s main building, walking back, forward, left, right, eyeing up the angles until I pinpointed a spot that offered up an interesting composition. I sat in the soft grass and began to draw.

It didn’t take long for people to come join me. The group, who didn’t strike me as super-wealthy, could have been made up of teens, 20s, or 30 somethings. I find it remarkably hard to judge ages of Indian people. It didn’t help that they were all probably south of 5 feet. They tentatively approached me sitting in the grass, looking questioningly at me as if they were unsure I would want them to join. A hello and a smile quickly alleviated their uncertainty, and they sat in a circle around me jibbering in happy tones. Hardly any spoke english, which was rare, but the bubbly heavyset man could communicate with me well enough for the whole group. They were fascinated with looking through my sketchbook, and even more intrigued by my rubber eraser, a common drawing tool that is unfamiliar to non-artists. We were all happy and content, me, drawing, them, chatting and passing around my eraser to play with (it acts like dough) and asking me questions. It was a great way to spend the rest of the afternoon. As I stood up to leave and say goodbye, they wanted photos with me so we took turns taking pictures with different cameras. Nothing decidedly amazing happened in our time together, just chatting and making jokes. There was no one moment that was unbelievable, but it’s hours like these, meeting strange people and learning about them, that makes the whole world seem a little smaller every time. We said goodbyes and parted ways, and I left with another notch in my belt of human experience.

I explored my way out of the complex, taking more photos and embarking on the long walk back to India Habitat Centre to meet Apoorva and Nilesh, and maybe grab an ice cream for the trip home. The rest of the day surely included a fun ride home, chai, chats with Apoorva and Auntie, a delicious dinner, and some Big Bang theory before bed. Wow I miss those days. I’m getting so nostalgic just thinking about it. In the words of Ice Cube, I gotta say, today was a good day.

Notes. I kinda want to work for the Indian government so I can feel like 007 pushin this James Bond whip

Sorry I haven’t posted for so long. Life happens. Glad to be back in my memory and sharing stories again. Holla if you got this far, I’ll give you a high five or a hug next time I see you.

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CHANDNI CHOWK: A PORTAL INTO OLD DELHI

Originally posted: April 14th, 2014

March 11th was an awesome day of exploring. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no recollection of what happened the entire morning, but we packed enough into the afternoon to more than make up for it. I’m assuming Apoorva and I left early from her work to go see the Red Fort and Jama Masjid, which required a metro trip to the Chandni Chowk station in Old Delhi. Old Delhi is wild. It is the crowded section of Delhi and there are people, dogs, cows, birds, etc. EVERYWHERE. We exited the station and I slowed way down to give Apoorva a lot of space as we approached the throngs of rickshaw drivers waiting for fares. I put a good 30 or 40 feet between us because since I am a large man by Indian standards, my size would be heavy for a rickshaw cyclist and would hamper Apoorva’s price negotiations. Once I saw that a fare was arranged and Apoorva started to get in the rick I would close the gap, hop in, and off we’d go.

Americans throw the phrase bumper-to-bumper around like it ain’t no thang, but let’s be honest, there’s always a good 3-5 (or more) feet between cars stuck in traffic on 95 at rush hour. Here, bumper to bumper means you stop moving when you hit the rickshaw in front of you. Who needs brakes when you can just use the stopped vehicle you’re stuck behind...

The last time we tried to see the Jama Masjid (but failed because the Imam was in town/everything was on lockdown), we had to get out of the rickshaw, follow the driver as he lifted the rickshaw over the foot-high curbed median, and then get back in so he could navigate us through the oncoming traffic to the other side of the road. This time was relatively uneventful.

We followed Chandni Chowk road all the way east to its end, where the monolithic façade of the Red Fort loomed into view. Sidenote, it’s like 85º out.  The Red Fort is a massive 250+ acres that, from the outside, looked like something Khaleesi would roll up on and take over with dragons. The inside was spacious, green with grass and full of beautiful architecture, which is definitely a theme in Delhi. After walking for a while we checked out a museum (which mysteriously had little pools of blood on the floor in one of the rooms that trailed elsewhere).

Me and Samir chillin at Red Fort. JK I don’t know this dude, but props to him of doing a great job of framing himself into my photo. Anyway, the Red Fort’s walls extend wayyyyyyy out on either side several hundred yards and it’s got a moat and everything. Worth exploring. I wish I had had time to sketch this place.


Oh, subtle 2,400% increase on my ticket price because I’m not Indian. Das racist

Normally, 90 Rs. is too steep a fare to go from the Red Fort to Jama Masjid, but when the driver says something that roughly translates to, “I am a good hardworking rickshaw driver, hop on my helicopter and fly to your destination!,” ya just can’t really say no to that.

Jama Masjidddddd. Cant capture this whole place with just a camera

Next we arrived at the largest mosque in India, the Jama Masjid. Once the Muslim prayer was over, we took our shoes off and were allowed to enter. This place was massive and breathtaking. We explored for a while and were stopped by a small Indian man excitedly asking for a photo with me because he thought I was famous Australian cricketer David Warner. Apoorva shut him down in Hindi, which was a bit of a bummer because I normally enjoy showing love to all my fans around the world.

This is David Warner. I wish I had known what the man was saying to Apoorva so I could have whipped out my Aussie accent and just gone with it. I think I can pull off David Warner for a day. Does anyone know what Hindi sounds like in an Australian accent? I really want to hear that right now.

Jama Masjid as we were leaving. It’s gorgeous even when you can’t see it

We decided to walk the last leg of the journey in Old Delhi before it got really dark. The sun was dropping behind the buildings and from what I’ve gathered, the streets of Old Delhi are NOT the best place to be at night, especially for women. We made moves to the metro to go meet up with friends at Hauz Khas Village, a nice section of town where Vedanti works (I think?). We ate dinner at ThirtyNine after walking around a bit and checking out an antique shop. ThirtyNine is a restaurant/bar where the atmosphere is about 5 times better than the food. Luckily, we were really there for camaraderie rather than cuisine and within an hour or two we had transformed from a pair to a party of eight.

Winding down the day on the rooftop restaurant of ThirtyNine with friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of friends, all certifiably great company and a very welcoming bunch of characters. Everywhere I go I fall in love with people. It has plenty of problems, but at the end of the day, what a great world we live in.

Luckily the rain held off until we were going home, and we got dumped on during the ride. We somehow packed four people in an autorickshaw and my left leg and arm provided a nice rain blocker for the doorless sides.  After parting with friends, one final auto took Apoorva and I home through the now flooded backstreets of Delhi. All that could be seen of the “road” ahead were the headlights of oncoming autos shimmering off the surface of what I mentally christened Lake Street. Luckily, the driver knew how to navigate all of the major potholes by heart so we did not fall into a ditch and get soaked. Getting home with dry feet was the perfect end to the day.

For my previous post, I shared a link on Facebook with a photo of a hot Bollywood actress. Not because she had anything with the post, but the last time I used a photo of an attractive woman in my link preview, my page views quadrupled. #justsayin

ROCKY AND DI GHENT :)

Originally posted: April 9th, 2014

Sorry about the hiatus, I’ve been back in the USA and was busy with a lot of stuff and will pick up where I left off before all the writing about wrestling around on the ground with mostly naked sweaty dudes covered in dirt. For some reason, I no longer have perfect recall so since my memory of the trip is dissipating, I must refer once again to iPhoto and notebook records for clues as to what all happened. Picking back up with the next unblogged day, March 10th seems to be pretty uneventful, judging from the seven photos I took that day. By the way, thank goodness iPhoto catalogues the times and dates of every photo! These photos lead me to believe I ate some gujias, went to Di Ghent again, visited Mausi’s house (where Apoorva’s unbelievably cool cousin Arjun, aunt and uncle and grandfather live), and ate a tasty dinner of chicken, potatoes and green beans at home. Ok I guess I use the term “home” for Apoorva’s Mom’s apartment. You know they make you feel at home when you accidentally call their place home. THAT’S how good their hospitality is.

Highlight of the day: I found a Rocky poster (of him on top of the Philly Art Museum steps) in Arjun’s room. Not only is Arjun a hilarious snapchat fiend, superbrainiac (best grades in everything, even Hindi, which was shocking, cause his Hindi sounded a little rusty to me), and extremely chill dude, he has a ROCKY POSTER. I like this kid already. First time I’ve seen something that reminded me of home on this trip.


Poster of Philadelphia all the way in Delhi. Auntie and Mausi just kinda stared at me as I was overcome with excitement and started taking photos of it when I saw this on the wall…

Since there is not much event-wise to talk about on the 10th, I have to take some time to talk about one of my top spots in Delhi, Café Di Ghent. Set on the second floor of a large building within walking distance of Apoorva’s apartment, this quaint establishment gives you a taste of the better life. Be it breakfast, lunch, or an afternoon snack, I can think of no place I’d rather go (beside’s Auntie’s kitchen table of course) to treat my taste buds with food delicious beyond measure. While the outside is nondescript, the inside somehow pulls off ‘warm and cozy’ while still remaining well lit and open at the same time! Natural light flooding in through the large windows and the manager Shefali’s welcoming smile combine to brighten the room and automatically make you feel at home as you take your seats. Apoorva and Shefali were friends from high school and I’m so thankful for that because otherwise I would have never met her and missed out on some of the best food in town. She is gracious, professional, and packs unearthly amounts of friendliness in her four foot nothing frame. She even sat with us as we ate on our fourth trip there. After eating a scrumptious breakfast of eggs benedict with mushrooms and an Oreo shake, she left us to bring us a bill and I quietly asked Apoorva if it would be too forward to propose to her when she returned. Ultimately, I didn’t, but only because I’m a pretty shy guy. Anyway, it takes a special restaurant to make me remember everything I’ve ever eaten there, and if any place can, it’s Di Ghent.

Ok so now I guess I gotta try.

Eyck Panini (chicken/sundried tomato + other stuff)
Broken Brownie shake
Part of Apoorva’s bangin cupcake, whose name I can’t remember (help me out Apoops)
Oreo shake
Charles V Panini (Chicken pesto)
Towering dark & white chocolate mousse with crazy delicious sauce that was richer than Bill Gates and vanilla ice cream.
Some type of cheesecake with caramel sauce UGH SO GOOD!
Eggs Benedict with mushrooms
Oreo Shake

…….yeah I think I remember every bite from this joint.


Cheesecake and crazy chocolate mousse cake finished off a bangin meal with the fam. Drooling while I’m writing this. Happy Birthday Apoorva!!!!!!!

SHEFALIIIIIII!!!! She’s approximately the size of a chess piece but you can’t tell when she’s on her tippy toes.

Bottom line, great people, great food, great ambiance.. If you’re ever in Delhi, go check it out. PS This is definitely getting copy/pasted into yelp. Is there Yelp in India? And Apoorva before you call me out for stupid questions just remember your cousin asked me if I had ever heard of MANCHESTER UNITED. Ps How was I supposed to know Nutella was a global company?!?!

Amendment ~ Yelp doesn’t have anything in India. Verdict: Not a stupid question

KUSHTI: ROUND 2

Originally posted: March 24th, 2014

Kushti is a form of South Asian wrestling that traces its origins back to 5,000 BC. FIVE THOUSAND BC! A few days after my first Kushti trip to the akhara, Apoorva took me for round two. The coach and wrestlers training there were just as nice the second time, and I was more prepared. I did a bit more of a real warmup, like a quarter of my college warmup, as opposed to the 5 minute jog I thought would work the first time haha. Anyway, the warmup opened up my vessels and got my blood pumping, and I blew my lungs out as well with some sprints so my body would know it’s about to compete and get all systems go. This time they had me touch the ground in front of a little temple inside the complex. Not to say that I knew what I was doing, I just played simon says with my opponent and did exactly what he did in the little ritual. Then when we were on the dirt, they had us waft some fumes from a burning incense stick before we went to battle. 

Underhook far knee pick like butter

This day was much more successful. My thumb felt alright and didn’t get tweaked this time, although I did leave this day with scratches all over my face and neck. I was able to score consistently on this guy (the same man I wrestled the first day) and pick him apart with different attacks. I gave up one takedown but hey, I’m two years out of shape and my Old Man Strength isn’t yet fully engaged. This time I got a little tired, but thanks to my kickass warmup didn’t fully gas or get too fatigued. Other improvements included Apoorva filmed the whole match horizontally and got some sweet action shots, and there was a family of monkeys with about 5 babies running along the walls of the akhara and playing in the trees. After about a 10 minute live go with the first guy, I took a breather and then some dude asked in Hindi if he could wrestle me. He was much lighter than me and I was able to open up on him, with an under/over to an inside trip to a body lock for two + more, ankle pick, cross ankle pick, double, and some takedown I invented on the fly that started with my arm around his low back (he had a wizzer) to a standing roll through navy (BLOOP BLOOP!) to a tilt. I forgot we were wrestling freestyle so he also go points cause I went across my back, but it was cool anyway. Whatever. 

TAKE A SEAT! #AMERICA got your ankle

The main coach Sripal (I think) and I started chatting about rules (via translator Apoorva) and he wanted me to teach his wrestlers some moves/tips. Sidenote: This coach is good friends with Sushil Kumar (Olympic Gold medalist) and competed internationally himself until 2006 when he had a back injury that ended his career #FACTDROP — Anyway, I taught them my bread and butters, my variation of an ankle pick, the Mike Rogers reverse grip setups to a double series (elbow pass, and post), and an underhook to a far knee pick. Then I didn’t want to pass up such an opportunity to learn something from him so he taught me some freestyle mat wrestling and a basic leg lace. WHAT AN EXPERIENCE! So thankful for Auntie and Apoorva for taking me to the akhara and fulfilling my dream of seeing different international styles. A learning experience I’ll never forget SHABASH

They throw dirt on your shoulders after points/breaks in action to absorb sweat and improve grip. When you wrestle 20 minutes live though, it’s no longer dirt. After we finished wrestling, they brought out a huge glass and handed it to me after washing it in the basin with questionable water. Then this little Indian dude came out with a big silver pitcher full of what looked like foam. He poured me a glass, full to the very brim. I don’t mean to the brim as an exaggeration. The water tension was doing WORK keeping this stuff in the glass. The drink was a light green/yellow color and super-frothy. I had no idea what it was but figured it would be really rude to refuse. I look over at Apoorva questioningly and silently mouthed, “is this beer?” She laughed and asked, and I was informed it was “orange juice.” Forgive me, I’m used to my orange juice being orange. Even the OJ at d hall was orange, and we all know it wasn’t orange juice. Apparently they use green oranges that aren’t ripe yet or something. Ok whatever, at least it’s not beer. I didn’t want to be rude so I took it to the head like a champ. After about 30 seconds I was a third of the way down the glass when the little homie came and TOPPED ME OFF. WHAT??! I look across the yard at my opponent who I had just whooped and he was standing there having emptied his glass already like it was nothing. Oh it’s like that? Ok I got this. I put my poker face on and chugged the whole thing. Smiled at him. Like a boss. We chatted a little while longer, I touched the guru’s feet and the feet of the elder there, leaned in and whispered to Apoorva, “Lets bounce before all of that juice comes back up.” We hit the road. (I never threw up btw)

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KUSHTI: TRADITIONAL INDIAN WRESTLING

Originally posted: March 15th, 2014

Helloyoutubes!*

I was planning on writing all of these posts as chronological installments of my trip, and have been meaning to write one focusing on the past few days since my last post (which you should probably read if you have absolutely nothing to do right now, or a ton of stuff you need to do but want to procrastinate). However, this morning totally thew a wrench into those plans. When I came to India, I had three goals (apart from visiting all the standard historical sites and attractions) that I wanted to check off my bucket list. 1) To wrestle the traditional kushti style at an Akhara 2) to experience an Indian wedding 3) to ride an elephant. Well, four goals if you want to count 'not getting "Delhi Belly" and shitting my brains out' as a goal. Anyway, thanks to Apoorva and the marriage of her friends Sahil and Devika, the wedding was checked off on the first weekend! The elephant ride still remains to be put in motion. The wrestling though, perhaps the thing I wanted to try the most, has officially been checked!

After a lot of asking around and a little research online, the Mathur’s had a lead on an akhara not too far from the apartment! An akhara is a wrestling training facility, where wrestlers go to train for up to 8 hours a day. They have two practices a day, one at 6 am and one at 4 pm, and are open every day except Tuesdays. They have been around since the 8th century, and originally were split in two parts: religious ascetics and professional fighters/martial artists. The first akhara (pulling from Wikipedia) had a section of monks and “a highly militant order…to act as a Hindu army.” Today, wrestling is the only remaining martial art taught at akharas, and after India’s recent successes on the world wrestling stage (ie. Sushil Kumar, Olympic gold medalist), enrollment at akharas is regaining in popularity.

Sushil Kumar, the best wrestler in India and part of the reason for the resurgence of wrestling there

Today I woke up at the crack of dawn and went with Auntie in search of this shindig. With the help of Google maps and some roadside bystanders, we found its location and walked inside. Auntie handled the talking, because it seemed not many here spoke great English (some did), and they were very welcoming. The place consisted of a fenced in dirt yard about the size of a MLB infield, and had a central one room building. In front of the building was a raised square pit about 25 feet across, or a small mesa, if you will. It had mounded mini-Cahokia style walls of super hard packed dirt and was filled with dark, very soft dirt. They call it mud, which almost makes sense because it was so soft, but it was not wet. According to handy dandy Wikipedia, they add water, red ochre, buttermilk and oil to this dirt, which serves as the wrestling surface. There were about 20-30 wrestlers standing around or training, climbing the rope suspended 20 feet off the ground or doing this one type of pushup I can’t remember the name of. Everyone was watching us curiously and were smiling and joking around when they realized I wanted to wrestle them. It felt like they were thinking, “oh look at this white boy, wants to come get a taste of some culture and thought wrestling would count. This will be amusing.” They must not have known.

I PLAY FOR KEEPS!


Best photo of the akhara I have

They directed us to the guru, or leader of the akhara who told me to go change in the building. I walked in and found a large empty room with a few more people, a bench press, a few other old pieces of weightroom equipment, and a table (really just a stack of some type of gym class lookin mats). I stripped down to my Under Armour compression shorts and t shirt as the guy kept motioning for me to take more clothes off. Then I went outside and they told me to warm up, so I ran around the yard for a while and stretched. Then they brought out this other powerful but not very lean looking fellow and pointed to the center of the pit.

We wrestled. I did ok initially, taking him down a few times in the first few minutes. I’m definitely so far from wrestling shape though so I gassed (hit a wall), and after that he started scoring. His style and tendencies were slightly different than what I’m used to feeling from US wrestlers, so it was interesting to feel his steps and trips and handfighting. I noticed one rule change, you’re allowed to pull and bend back individual fingers here, whereas in the US folkstyle (the type of wrestling that schools and colleges use) you need four. My thumb is on ice. Auntie translated afterwards that the guru (head teacher) was telling the rest of the wrestlers to learn from me, and that he was yelling at his own guy for being a disgrace and letting the white guy beat him. Not sure if that’s true or if she was just trying to make me feel better. The guy I wrestled wore me down though and after that he started beating me up. That part was embarrassing.

Monkey’s on the walls of the training facility

Kushti is a trip. GET IT!?!?!?!

CCNF Domination Station in the beginning… until my lack of cardio caught up with me. Then it got ugly

After wrestling live for about 10 minutes, I was spent. Auntie told me that I should touch the guru’s feet, as a sign of respect. I felt like throwing up and they told me to lie down on the special dirt because it had medicinal properties. After doing so, I actually felt much better. I was so out of shape that I felt nauseous for about 15 minutes. They had a rope to climb too so I did that a couple times. We chatted for a bit, meaning Auntie talked to them in Hindi, and I stood there trying to pick up what I could. Then I went over to the washing area, where I washed myself down with a hose until I had cleaned off most of the mud and dirt, then I toweled off and changed back in the building. After a bit more chatting, discussing freestyle and Greco among other things, we headed home. Auntie told me they refused to let us pay them and invited me back for every day for the remainder of the stay. I think I will go back Sunday and do it all over again, although I’m dreading wrestling without being able to tape my thumb.

Some rope climbs after the wrestling

*Ronald Jenkees reference

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THERE’S ICE SKATING IN DELHI?

Originally posted: March 11th, 2014

Auntie: “Guess what Colin and I had for lunch today”
Apoorva: “How am I supposed to guess?”
Auntie: “It’s something Colin really likes.”
Apoorva: “Chicken and pasta! Pancakes! Maple syrup!” *Auntie laughs* “What!? He loves maple syrup. He’ll eat anything with maple syrup on it”

Day 13 in Hindustan and I still haven’t met Shraddha Kapoor yet. What is going on? Where is she? Bombay probably. Don’t worry I’m keeping my eyes peeled. If you don’t know who she is, she’s a Bollywood star and she is up there with Shakira, Michelle Jenneke, and Greek’s cousin on the list of people Colin wants to take out to dinner. If you don’t know about Bollywood, it is basically the Vinny Chase to Hollywood’s Johnny Drama. For those of you too lazy to google search this woman, BAM! Faced.

Shraddha Kapoor from Aashiqui 2, a good but depressing movie I watched on the plane over here. Apoorva told me I’d have a shot with her if I ever met her. She might have been lying, but she insisted she wasn’t. I’ll take it.

Yesterday was a pretty awesome day! I woke up and took a autorick to the metro and headed towards central Delhi. When I got in one dude’s auto another auto driver came up and started yelling at him about how I was HIS passenger. They fought over me briefly, which was ten percent alarming and the rest entertaining. Soon enough I was on the metro. I was in the front of the second car in the train, which meant I was just behind the all-female compartment. On every train in every line of the Delhi metro, the first car is designated female only, I think for comfort and safety purposes of the women passengers. It looked so calm and not very congested compared to every other packed compartment, so I often caught myself wishing I could go stand (or even sit, what a thought) in that one. Oh well

The first car in every train on every metro in Delhi is designated the sexist compartment.

Fresh outta the metro, I made my way to the Shangri La Eros Hotel in Delhi to meet up with step-friend and former co-worker Margot in the lap of luxury. We chatted poolside, I went for a swim***, and then we went for a walk around Delhi before retreating from the heat to the penthouse restaurant back at her hotel. It was a good time catching up and trading travel stories, but I had to leave before long due to plans to go ice skating.
***Apoorva’s reaction upon finding out: “You went for a swim!? In this weather???” – It was nearing 80º, which is frigid to people here

Wait, what? Ice skating in Delhi? I found myself an hour later in a mall with Apoorva and Vedanti getting tickets to go ice skating. The rink was about a quarter the size of a normal hockey rink but I was too excited to care. I had been trying to go ice skating in the US for about a month before I left but some people just always flake out or can’t do the same days as you and whoopty-do, it never happened. The skates, it turns out, were not sharp. They were completely flat across the bottoms…. There was no hollow and no real edges, and you could slide laterally across the ice on them. Oh well. Threw the bad boys on and hit the ice for some good old fashioned skating. Because of the skates, it was difficult until I got used to the ‘no grip on the edges’ feel. I was cracking up the whole time because it turns out the idea that most people know how to ice skate is something I took for granted back in the US of A. Out of the 100-200 or so Indians on the ice, maybe ten had ever skated before by the looks of it. At least 60% did not leave the boards the whole time, and a slow line of narps hobbled tenderly around the edge, one hand on the boards at all times. Can’t really blame them, seeing as how they’re in Delhi, but they should stick to cricket.

Check this picture homies and homiettes. You KNOW this dude’s about to wtfo. If your acronym game isn’t as raw as mine, here’s a hint: that last one starts with Wipe.

I guess I can’t really judge though because A) I don’t think ponds freeze over solid for the whole winter here and B) The skates did make it difficult to have any real control. Apoorva did much better than I expected, falling over only a few times, but I was proud of her cause she had the cajones to go pretty fast. Vedanti only ate it once, so it was a pretty successful day for everyone. The photographer for the rink had apparently never had a white person before either and, according to Vedanti, was trying to get photos of us as we skated for like 5 laps straight. At least I’m not Margot, who is whiter than I am and also a redhead – quite the indigenous Indian photographer’s dream. It was a fun time for all (except for the girl in the red shirt that concussed herself on the ice), and we left smiling. We came home, I introduced Vedanti to Kevin Hart, and we chilled for a while chatting and watching youtube before passing out.

Vedanti and I cruising past this grown ass tween girl who is wayyyyyyyy too old to still be using a penguin-ice-walker that’s designed for ages 3-6 #narpalert

BONUS CONTENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Throughout the day I keep notes of stuff I see and thoughts I think in my phone. Here are some things. Many are sweeping generalizations I’ve made about an entire culture based on my experiences with as few as, well, one person.

– Indians: Unbelievable at balancing things on their heads. #IndianThings

– Apoorva’s first word was sausages. High pitched talking to baby voice: “What do you want for breakfast Apoorva!?!”
“Chachuges!”

– Question: What do dance, Tae Kwon Do, piano, and violin all have in common? Answer: THE DAILY DOUBLE! Apoorva learned all of them. (She was just a yellow belt, so it doesn’t really count)

– I parallel parked Apoozle’s car. With the wheel on the right side. In a spot she couldn’t get into. Apoorva’s a really good driver so I was quite proud of myself. Shut up.

– Don’t worry Mom, I’m still not married.

– Indians love presenting their restaurant checks in odd, fancy, or creative ways #IndianThings – Examples so far: Bill in a pinecone, bill on a dish, bill on a plate, more bills on dishes, bill in a cookie tin, bill in a bowl of coffee beans. I can’t wait to go to new restaurants and see how our bill is delivered next!

– Indians love conspicuous consumption. #IndianThings

– Piggybacking that last one: Watches. The bigger the better over here. There are no girls watches. Girls wear mens watches, men wear straight up clocks on their wrists.

– I’ve asked the question “What comes to mind when you think of America?” to Apoorva and her friends. Responses included 1) barbecue all day 2) guns 3) basements 4) Abe Lincoln 5) fried food 6) fat people ………”basements?” – “Yeah, everyone in America has a basement. We don’t have basements here.”

– I asked them to speak in an American accent, and it was hilarious… Instead of getting what all the Americans I know sound like, I got about 65% Valley Girl accent “Like omg, we’re totally going to the MALLL laterrrr” and 35% southern accent “We fry evryTHANG”

– Indians think Harleys are really cool #IndianThings

– Apoorva confirmed for me today that yes, India does have rabbits. Just checking #IndianThings

Totally unrelated, this was in my suggested links on youtube. What? What the heck is the Monkey Man? Should I be concerned?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6gUFs9fIu8#t=327

Goodnight Readership

TAJ MAHAL AND DANCE PARTY CAR RIDES

Originally posted: March 10th, 2014

March 8th
SATURDAY’S A RUGBY DAY! Except not in India. When you go on a kickass roadtrip with a couple friends and a drive to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and the Fatehpur Sikri, even better. Apoorva, Nilesh, Nilesh’s driver, and I left at 6 am and embarked on a 5.5 hour ride (traffic) to Fatehpur Sikri, a jive place built buy Akbar who ruled over the Mughal Empire from his seat at this mountaintop palatial area. He had three wives, a Christian wife, a Muslim wife, and a Hindu wife. The Hindu wife was his favorite wife because she was the only one that could bear him children. This red sandstone and white marble acropolis had examples of impressive architecture galore. I could spend hours describing everything I saw, but for the sake of time, know that it’s oh so very impressive!

Gardens in the Fatehpur Sikri

West gate in the background, with Apoorva and Nilesh

On the way out, Nilesh was bragging about buying a knife for only 200 rs. Little did he know he got HAD, another kid (the whole place is crawling with 7 year olds peddling goods) offered me a knife for 200, which means I could have talked him into giving it to me for 80. Nilesh was pissed. Also, I had a 10 year old pulling on my arm through the window of the bus telling me to get off the bus and fight him. He wanted to fight me for money. He offered me “One thousand million rupees” to come down off the bus and fight. He wanted to catch a beatdown. Alright kid. Na. Props to him on his confidence and fighting spirit though!

We also saw a little kid yell at us “YO! MICHAEL JACKSON!” and then proceeded to do the double arm roll with a twist and a hand-on-the-nutsack-hip-pop in true MJ fashion. He still had a way to go on the hat tricks though.

Next we hit up the Taj Mahal. When I first walked through the gate-no, back up. FIRST of all, a ticket costs 20 rupees, if you’re Indian. My ticket, being a whitey from another country, cost me 750!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?! What rubbish. Anyway, when I first walked through the gate I could immediately understand what all the hype was about. I could tell why it was worth 8 or 9 hours in a car. It was unfathomably jaw dropping. All white, towering above the skyline (the whole outer contour of the Taj IS the skyline, as it was designed so that when you look at it, there is nothing but sky visible behind it. No hills, no trees, no other buildings. It’s just the Taj set against a a beautifully cloudless powder blue sky. The original bluescreen backdrop. I felt like I had walked into a video game, because surely mere mortals could only pull something like this off in a digital realm. Right? No. This was real. I walked up and touched it with my own two hands. The archtecture incorporated the use of illusion, the mathematics of perspective (shoutout to Annalisa Crannell), stone inlay, and beautifully clean marble to build one of the most magnificent structures on the planet. Apoorva had Nilesh and I going nuts with her mystery question. “Everything about the Taj is symmetrical from the gate all the way down the hundreds of yards of garden through the building. Each side is an exact mirror image of it’s other half. All except for one thing. What is it?” I, who pride myself on my powers of observation, was going nuts looking for the tiniest detail that was not mirrored on the other side. A flower on a wall with an extra petal, a minaret with an extra layer of marble, a color that was different. Eventually I saw it and realized Apoorva had built it up so much when really it was the most obvious thing in the world. I won’t say in case any of you are going to the Taj and want to find out for yourself. Anyway, I loved my time there, even though I had had to pee since before we even rolled up and they gave me a free bottle of water cause I’m a “High Paying Gent.” On the way out our tour guide (not Apoorva, the other one) took us to a shop and showed us a tutorial on how the stone inlay is done, which was actually one of the things I was most curious about.

Taj Mahal from afar!

After the Taj we went to a Pizza Hut, ordered a pitcher of god-awful iced tea and a delicious pizza, and hit the road. We slept some, then Apoops took the reigns in the DJ booth, the windows were rolled down, and Nilesh and I had a dance party for the last two hours of the trip, much to the shock of everyone on the road around us. We even got too excited for the car and pulled over to dance on the side of the road a bit until two guys on a motorbike pulled up next to us and started talking in rapid Hindi to my co-adventurers. I thought they were just making sure we were alright or offering us help or hitting on Apoorva or making fun of our dancing but I realized I should take them seriously when I saw the guy on the back had a submachine gun slung around his back. They were cops, and they had told us to make less noise. Oh.
By the time we arrived home, Apoorva was absolutely exhausted and went straight to bed, but this was the night (day in the US) of the EIWA Championships!!! I fired up flowrestling and watched F&M compete at Easterns! It was not a great performance but nothing makes me feel like home more than watching F&M Wrestling. Stayed up way too late watching the tournament before passing out.

Let Ice Cube play out, kick back and ease off the gas….. Today was a good day
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RySHMuLN4Jg

Bahleywood or Bowleywude?

Originally posted: March 10th, 2014

Sorry for the hiatus, I realized when Apoorva told me it’d been four days since I wrote a post and I logged on to facebook to find this message from my mom “Why no blog in the last few days…is everything ok?” that I realized I should probably add another one. It’s so hard to keep blogging away because entertaining the masses takes so much time, and I would so much rather be out getting harassed by auto drivers or buying a pair of knockoff Ray Bans for 120 rupees or $2 (they’re super sweet by the way) than sit inside and blogging about the cool stuff I did earlier before I sat down to write. There’s a lot to cover, so excuse me while I refer to my iphoto time stamps to Encyclopedia Brown my way to the truth as to what the hell I’ve been doing since my last post.

Metrosnaps! This photo is like 24hoursofhappy.com

March 6th was a rest day. I stayed home and hung out and Auntie Mathur took me to Kingdom of Dreams, a huge awesome emporium that had shops representing many of the different states of India. IT WAS VISUAL STIMULI OVERLOAD. Sculptures, paintings, people, shops. Auntie Mathur took me on a shopping spree and refused to let me pay for anything, which was kind of frustrating but she’s so generous, you can’t not love the hospitality here.

Auntie and I at the Kingdom of Dreams! Thanks for everything!

March 7th I went to the Akshardham Temple, which is maybe the most finely decorated/ornately carved structure in the world. Thousands of sculptures, millions of man-hours to create, excessive decorations adorning the walls of everything. Unbelievable. Getting in was a trip in itself. No backpacks, no phones, no cameras, no tomagotchis, I couldn’t even bring in my notebook and a pencil to DRAW the place. The only thing I could take in was my wallet, my clothes, and my rugged good looks. I have never in my life gone through more strict security, and I’ve been inside the Pentagon. The second guy to pat me down was a little liberal with his use of the hands near my marbles, and I almost dropped him. “Not as handsy as the Turkish bath,” I told myself, thought better of it, continued inside. I can’t describe how cool this place was, and I couldn’t take photos, but google image search Akshardham Temple and you will get 1% of an idea of how awe-inspiring it was. I learned about the child-yogi Neelkanth Varni who journeyed thousands of miles barefoot spreading his ideas. He is the central figure in Swaminarayan Hinduism. Also, he was a feminist #FACTDROP After the temple I went back to Lodhi Gardens to sketch again and wait for Apoorva to get off work. I also mixed some art gallery viewing in there somewhere too!! Check out this work of art that is my favorite by far.

This is the whole 48″ x 48″ piece. The deep amber color is powerful and the detail of the white henna patterns covering the subject’s whole figure is beautifully intricate. I’ve seen other paintings in the galleries here incorporating similar patterns, but none in the context of henna on a figure and none that create the the same aesthetic. I could stare at this for hours. Simple and pleasing, there isn’t too much going on but the design in the upper left gives it just enough energy to offset the subdued activity. It is calming without being boring, and the figure, while not overworked, is a convincing feminine form.

 

I’ve never wanted to buy a painting so bad in my life.

At night, we went to Apoorva’s Aunt and Uncle’s house and got some family time in and watched a movie about Natalie Portman after she accidentally killed her baby and had a view like thisssssss

HAPPY HAPPY GOOD DAY TO YOU

Originally posted: March 3rd, 2014

Yesterday was an awesome day consisting of a trek through Delhi. I walked a mile from Apoorva’s work to Khan Market, then another 2.5 miles to the president’s house. I sat on a bench under a small obelisk in the yard of a government building and drew in my notebook for a couple hours before setting off again. Another 2 miles had me pass a hunger strike and a man who I bought a miniature wooden chess set off of, and I found myself at my third stop of the day, Jantar Mantar. This is a complex of 17th century astronomical buildings that were visually very cool. There was also an exhibition of astronomical landscape photography spread throughout the grounds that was stunning!

Jantar Mantar flowers, astronomical landscape photography exhibition, 17th century astronomical building!

I wish I had stayed to draw some of these, but I had called Apoorva’s friend Rhea and had made plans to hang out with her because Apoopies had to work late. Then I got a call that Apoorva was not in fact working late and that she could pick me up from the metro stop by her house and take me home. Sorry Rhea. Then it was metro back, and hung out with some people and went to sleep. I feel like I’m missing something.

Today was good too! Drove to central secretariat with Apoorva and Nilesh where they dropped me. Took the metro to Kalkaji Mandir and walked to the Baha’i House of Worship, the Lotus Temple, and it was quite impressive! I went into the information center before I got to the temple and was fascinated by the Bahá’í Faith, which is a world religion centered on the idea of unity and truth (based on what I gleaned from a tour of the information center and a bit of reading). They believe that war is silly, all world religions are similar at their core, and vary only in ‘the unnecessary details,’ or something along those lines. It was really interesting stuff and although I am not religious, was maybe the most compelling basis for a religion I’ve ever seen. The faith respects the search for truth through science and research and demands a tolerance of all religions and races, encouraging people to celebrate differences rather than use them to justify hatred.

“All blessings are divine in origin, but none can be compared with this power of intellectual investigation and research, which is an eternal gift producing fruits of unending delight. Man is ever partaking of these fruits. All other blessings are temporary; this is an everlasting possession. Even sovereignty has its limitations and overthrow; this is a kingship and dominion to which none may usurp or destroy. Briefly, it is an eternal blessing and divine bestowal, the supreme gift of God to man. Therefore, you should put forward your most earnest efforts toward the acquisition of science and arts. The greater your attainment, the higher your standard in the divine purpose. The man of science is perceiving and endowed with vision, whereas he who is ignorant and neglectful of this development is blind. The investigating mind is attentive, alive; the callous and indifferent mind is deaf and dead…”
– Abdu’l-Bahá

I loved the writings in there, it was all very unexpectedly thought provoking. There was also a great quote about the unity of the world but I don’t have it. Go to the Lotus Temple yourself and find it!

After coming out of the Lotus Temple (in which you are not allowed to take pictures or even draw), I sat on a bench and started drawing. Indians and foreign travelers might be the nicest people ever. I’ve never gotten so many compliments on such a rubbish drawing as I did with this one. The next hour was hilarious because I had maybe 25-30 people, over the course of the hour, stop at my bench and ask to take a photo with me. I’m just sitting there like, y’all act like you’ve never seen a white person before, jaws all on the floor like Pam, like Tommy just burst through the door. Some of these people think a) I’m photoworthy cause I’m white, b) I’m rich because I’m American, etc. It’s really odd. America is wonderful, but it’s strange to be looked up to because of where I was born. It was as alarming as it was enjoyable.

I did get to meet an Afghani man named Sami who I had a nice half hour long chat with. He studies at a University in Afghanistan, is visiting grandparents in India, and is engaged to his cousin, who lives in Virginia and who he will move to the USA to marry. He was really nice and we took a photo together too. There was also an entire group of about 10 who each took turns sitting on the bench next to me while the rest of them snapped away photos. I can finally check “become tourist attraction at a tourist attraction” off my bucket list.

Some of that group that all got photos with me.

FF to later in the day, I met up with Rhea at Jajiv Chowk and we went to a stop near her college (the white trash hippie neighborhood) and got buffalo steaks and milkshakes. Then home, then Auntie Aunt’s (her real aunt) for an e-mail sending tuturial and then home for delicious chicken, Modern Family, and then bed! Great day!

Notes:
-Nicky D, I saw a Jeep that someone had put a Ferrari logo on. OK. Pretty convincing
-UMD, Notre Dame, Syracuse, Ohio State: Some of the schools represented by beggars wearing university sweatshirts on the street.
-Why are all the cars in India so TINY!?!?! If you’ve seen the driving here, you know why
-ANIMALS I’VE SEEN: Giant fruit bat (2′ wingspan), monkeys, green parakeets
-I survived my first batch of chicken momos off the street in crazy hot sauce sold by a 6 year old.
-Lastly, this is a sign they actually had the need for:

Shame on you pissing motorbike man. You can’t even get a proper flow going. Nothing worse than the split stream, although I guess if you’re just aiming at the ground and not a toilet, doesn’t really matter anyway. Rock on

Weddings, Gulab Jamuns, Arranged Marriage Fails, Loving Delhi Life!

Originally posted: March 3rd, 2014

What do bloggers do when events occur more rapidly than is possible to blog about? I don’t want to skip over happenings in my blog, but also want to just shut my computer and sleep. Eff it. Here we go!
Last night was day 3 of the wedding, and it was much more laid back and less stressful. Apoorva swapped the sari life for something simpler (but still crazy fancy looking) and I just rocked business cas. with funky shoes. Getting dressed, getting there, finding people, getting home, everything was easier than the previous night. We mingled with the four or five hundred people there, ate, mingled some more, ate, took photos, etc. The decor was soft, warm, and swanky. Giant tents of fancy looking orange and yellow fabrics with cool gold designs on them dotted the outdoor courtyard roughly the size of a soccer field. Excuse me, football field? Cricket pitch? Idk it was large.

Moving on, the food was next level delicious. The dessert table. Don’t even get me started. It’s not like they just offered a crème brûlée. They had a table full of “Assorted Brûlées,” because just one type isn’t enough. Didn’t know until last night there was more than one type, but there was. Strawberry creme brulee is banging. Anyway, they had cakes and tarts and the brulees and everything anyone could ever want short of Graham Slam. It was kinda like how I’ve always imagined Hogwarts dessert arrays were like after huge feasts. All that aside, there was really only one dessert item that I cared about.

GULAB JAMUNS

If you haven’t had one

Sorry I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Ever since Apoorva and her unhealthy relationship with Tulsi introduced me to GJs nearly 5 years ago, they’ve become a vital part of my existence. Go find them. Eat them. Rejoice with me in their glory. If you want an idea of what they are, think of the best donut you’ve ever had, in golf ball form, soaking in a 4 inch pool of piping hot maple syrup and blessed by angels. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Anyway. Came home. Passed out.

Today was nuts. Saw the Safdarjang’s Tomb (AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL!)

Safdarjang’s Tomb: The last flicker in the dying lamp of Mughal architecture in Delhi

Yeah. Palm trees. The last time I can remember seeing palm trees was playing tiger woods golf in like 2001…..not usually a part of my life.

Then it was lunch with Apoorva (+ coworkers), art gallery touring with 2 of her coworkers who thought it more important to show me art that go back to work for the afternoon, and then leaving to meet up with a couple F&M guys Saif and Rafael at Dilli Haat.

Two friends of Apoorva’s from F&M, Saif and Rafael, behind us in a rickshaw in Old Delhi

From there we went on an adventure to Old Delhi to see sweet buildings and whatnot but the Imam was apparently in town and everything was locked down hardcore. Little police barricades and lots of shouting by military personnel meant we weren’t getting into the GIANT mosque, but that we were going straight for the world famous Karim’s. It was a tiny little place tucked away amongst the busiest streets you can imagine. A quiet respite from the chaos of the streets outside that rested our feet and filled our bellies.

Apoorva practically lost her mind at the first taste of her mutton burra kebab. The desire she has for goat meat is unparalleled by anyone. You can see it in her eyes as she eats that the years she’s spent waiting to get back to Karim’s to try this was well worth it. It was good. Roti was on point too. After dinner we were not allowed to leave the restaurant because the streets were full of all the Muslims praying, so we had to wait until prayer was over before we could leave the restaurant. Made our way to the metro and home.

Walking home from Karim’s through old Delhi

We also hung out with Apoorva’s friends, who are awesome. Even more awesome for me though, was getting to witness a marriage proposal. Sort of. Auntie took a phone call from a friend of a cousin or something who was saying something along the lines of:

“We are looking for a beautiful smart young woman for our son/nephew/friend/whatever he was, and thought we’d ask you if Apoorva would marry him? He is a graduate of so and so ivy league, he is an engineer, he is twenty five years of age and on and on…”
“No thanks.”

-That whole thing made my night. Arranged marriage attempt before my very eyes.

Can’t say I’ve ever seen a proposal over the phone. From the dude’s uncle. To the girl’s mom….”

Indians seriously know how to wingman.

 

 

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Why Haven't I Met And Started A Fiery Romance with Deepika Padukone yet, and Other Things On My Mind

Originally posted: March 2nd, 2014

Dear readers, which most likely consists of the following:
-people with an essay they’re procrastinating
-people who accidentally clicked the link I posted
-people who click just to look at the photos (that’s my style)
-or my most loyal reader, my Mom

I am not going to talk about day three of the wedding I came home from tonight, cause I’ll have to cover that some other time. I have 12 gigs of space in my iphone that’s nearly always filled, and if you’re constantly deleting old photos so it will allow you to take more, you know my struggle. Well my brain has a finite number of storage units, so to clear up room for the adventures of tomorrow, here is a textual regurgitation of bits of thought, from the past I have not yet forgot. I jot these things down in this spot, blogging just a bit, it’s not a lot, but just in case my brain shall rot when I’m laid up on a hospice cot, I’ll read this and recall with joy that with the life I’d had, I’d lived a lot.

– Had an entire conversation with Apoorva about driving in India (contrasted with the US) Indian driving is such an organic, fluid, chaotic, yet surprisingly effective system of freestylijng your way through the city. Much more similar to humans sidewalk foot traffic in the way everything works. “Do you boo boo” seems to be the motto here.

-Punjabi people are the most fun

-Today we had some more of the banana bread Apoorva had made a couple days ago. It was super tasty, moist, and everything it should be. That said, I still miss my bread buddy. I want to see my bread buddy and do the breadmaking dance IF YA KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING and then put a lot of butter on the finished product and BAM, share with the rest of 1611

-I miss writing again on the fridge when I visit that place

-Of everything I miss about the USA, I miss wrestling the most. Is that weird?

-I was planning on running into, asking out, and falling in love with a Bollywood heroine *cough Deepika Padukone cough*, but apparently most of them are in Bombay. Woe is me.

-Tonight was “a more informal” night… Every guy was wearing a nice suit. Wait…THAT’S FORMAL!!!

-Haven’t cuddled in over two weeks

-Haven’t had ice cream in just as long!!!! Wild

-We went to Rhea’s house a few nights ago and looked up at the sky. “Look how many stars are out,” one said. “Yeah, so clear tonight.” responded the other. Meanwhile I’m a PA boy sittin there on the ground (while the puppy named AlleyCat runs all over me) lookin at the “stars.” – Six stars by my count. Maybe seven? I’m wondering to myself, how can this be considered a clear night? Come to Cherry Springs, PA and I’ll give you a tour of our entire f&#*ing galaxy. Clear night by Delhi standards is like closing your eyes super hard and pressing on your eyelids until you see a few little specks of light appear. Doesn’t count.

-Everyone in the US told me I was gonna have stomach problems the whole time. I won't be able to handle the food, the water that isn’t safe, etc. I’m happy to say that I’ve been here a week and haven’t had any problems other than clogging Apoorva’s I’m-not-made-to-handle-American-shits toilet, which was followed by me pulling the handle straight out of the head of the plunger, which ended up getting eaten by the toilet. Alright I digress. My stomach is fine. The food is delicious and I haven’t had anything spicy enough to knock me down yet. Even when Apoorva handed me a wrap-looking thing full of some type of chicken in bright red sauce after saying “This is so spicy. I’d offer you some but you’d die.” I took it anyway, and I took it like a man. My face didn’t even start sweating b-B-B-BOOYAAA I got my tolerance up. So much for my Pennsylvania Dutch diet giving me weak taste buds!

-Can’t speak to the water in Delhi, cause I’ve only ever drank water that’s come from Apoorva’s reverse osmosis machine, which spits out better-than-bottled-water-quality water into bottles they keep stocked on the reg. Now that’s some high quality H2O!

-They searched our trunk before letting us into the Sheraton Four Points for the wedding reception. We’ve also had people search under our car for bombs with mirrors on carts before entering places. Didn’t know India was this scared of terrorists.

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They have people that cook for them, people that wash their cars daily (and clean the inside of their cars every sunday), they have cleaning ladies, and people that iron all of their clothes. All that combined is ALMOST as impressive as the skill displayed here in the folding of my shirt. I came home from the wedding and this was just sitting here on my bed. So perfect I didn’t even want to touch it. Flabber. Gasted.

I just wanted to scribble some things down

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Indian Wedding!!

Originally posted: March 2nd, 2014

Before ever even coming to this country, it seemed to be a pretty commonly agreed upon idea that India has the best weddings of any country/cultural group on the planet. Sure it’s an opinion, but it’s one shared by many people who are not even of Indian descent.  It is no surprise, then, that I was beyond pumped when Apoorva told me Sahil, an F&M student from India was getting married in Delhi during my stay. Happy to report that although we did not go to day one of the wedding, day two lived up to the hype, and today, day three, should bring fun times as well. Last night I donned my kurta and watched in amazement as Apoorva, with her mom’s help, transformed into the most amazing sight I’ve ever seen. I’ve been to maybe 5 or 6 American weddings, and sure, the women all put on nice dresses, but they have nothing on the process or end result of Indian women. I’m probably saying this cause I’ve never really seen women wear saris in person, and new is always cool, but believe me when I say, it’s a good look. The women even ball out on jewelry like no one in the US has ever seen, and I quickly found out it wasn’t just Apoorva. Every woman at this event was draped up and dripped out, saris and gold dangly thingies and bindi’s of all types crawling all over the event. After the wedding, I found myself thinking I hope I meet an Indian woman to marry just so I can have one of these (not knocking anyone’s wedding I’ve been to, of course).

Backing up, Apoorva and I spent the hours leading up to the wedding hanging out with her awesome friend Vedanti before we had to get ready. I showered and threw on my kurta and pantaloons and was invited to come see the sari-putting-on-process. She starts out with a long skirt and a blouse which looks like a mix between a glorified bra and half a tank top. I know theres a name for it in the US but I’m not a girl so you can’t expect me to know the terminology here. Then Auntie (Apoorva’s mom - all adults older than you that you know you call Auntie or Uncle) went to work wrapping five meters of this amazingly beautiful gold designer sari around her with folds and twists and pleats and folds on folds on folds, eventually tying it off and leaving Apoorva looking like this:

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Apart from looking like a million bucks (or 62,500,000 rupees), it was a lucky accident that my kurta matched her sari exactly, so it definitely looked like we planned it. WIN

ps you can’t see her earrings in this but they were some crazy gold contraptions that wrapped around her ear and dangled and looped through and dangled some more and were on some next level trippy bling shit, while still classy. Unbelieveable

Anyway we left, picked up some more friends Ambika and Keya, met to caravan with some more friends, and rolled up 40 minutes later to the wedding. This wasn’t the actual wedding, this was just day two of the events, and was a large outdoor place with a huge bar, endless tables of catering, and several hundred people milling about and mingling, and also looking crazy fancy.

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I also had the pleasure of running into the only other person there that I actually knew, Aradhana, who also looked beautiful. Doubt you’ll ever see this but if you do, it was so nice to see you again!!!

First was a video of the bride and groom’s lives, pretty standard. Then everyone gathered around a stage where friends, family, and the bride and groom themselves performed the story of how they grew up and met each other and the blossoming of their romance in the form of over an hour’s worth of dances. Old people did dances, little girls did dances, friends, etc. At least 45 people all had parts in different dances set to some of the sickest Indian music I’ve ever heard (it’s all fun). I was token camera guy, holding three, and trying to film for a couple people that were on stage, so I captured a lot of video for them.

Group of friends of Bride and Groom maybe? Cool dance

Group of friends of Bride and Groom maybe? Cool dance

Parents of Bride and Groom gettin down

Parents of Bride and Groom gettin down

Bride and Groom, Sahil and Devika! Congrats!!!

Bride and Groom, Sahil and Devika! Congrats!!!

After the dances had concluded, the dance floor opened. Apoorva and I ate some food and danced but soon had to leave to beat the late night traffic. Trucks aren’t allowed on the highway before 9pm, so after 9 was super thick traffic, nearly all of which is trucks. After a stressful drive home, we came in and passssssed OUT.

Apoorva driving, in a sari, killing it.

Apoorva driving, in a sari, killing it.

Stellaluna

Originally posted: February 26th, 2014

As a child, one of my favorite books was Stellaluna. It was about a bat that loses its mother and grows up with birds. The differences between Stellaluna and the birds become apparent, but they decide to be friends despite their differences. I’m learning more and more about differences between my culture and other cultures in person: tipping on meals, experiencing the caste system first hand (kinda depressing), eating balls of flavored water?, weddings are apparently so much cooler here, food is awesomely cheap, DRIVING, etc. I think the differences should be celebrated and I’m so happy to have not only Apoorva as a close friend, but people like Aysa and Zeynep and many others from cultures not featured on this journey. I’m learning so much about people and it’s a trip to live the Stellaluna life for a bit.

I’ve been here for three whole days now and I’m loving it! The roads are crazy, the people are kind, the food is good, the slums are dirty, the clothes are colorful, the subways are a lot cleaner and better than the ones in the US, the hotdogs are much worse, the music is different, the language is full of words that are just plain fun to say. Chicken tikka is not only something I had for dinner, but it reminds me of the thing that the natives said over and over again during Ace Ventura movie about guano. CHICKEN TIKKAAAAA!!!!! Other fave words include Dilli Haat, cool in an accent, and Lodhi are fun to say.

Day one included a trip to the Qutub Minar, on day two I went with Apoorva to her work, which is in the coolest office building complex shown in the photo below

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The above photo was taken INSIDE her office building complex. Amazing. I left her at work to walk to Lodhi Garden, a huge park full of ancient monuments, tombs, mosques, etc., and it was beautiful. I walked around, took some photos and videos and took it all in. There were TONS of different bird species, including hundreds of hawks that were regularly swooping down to snatch fish out of the lake. There were also parakeets and a bunch of other birds I didn’t recognize. I also saw a bunch of chipmunks (locals think they’re squirrels, and call them squirrels too) and a mongoose! Walking around this garden was so pleasant because all the birds made for the best music. Below is a photo from the Lodhi Garden

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After Lodhi Garden I met up with Apoorva and her work friends for lunch (Happy Birthday Anushri!!! – totally took a guess on her name, but it was a while ago) and then Apoorva and I took the metro to Dilli Haat, a bazaar-like market place where we (Apoorva) haggled for some sweet goods. I also finally got to meet Rhea, Apoorva’s super cool bestie; long overdue. Also, I am Apoorva’s +1 for a wedding tomorrow so Auntie Mathur took me shopping for a formal kurta that I can wear to the wedding, seeing as how I didn’t bring any of my suits on this trip. Odds on me looking fly as shit vs looking like a horribly out of place tourist white boy in local garb: DEAD EVEN
Thank you so much Mrs. Mathur for the kurta!!!

Today was the first time this little baby bird ventured alone from the nest. Apoorva thought she had some event to go to (before being uninvited #ouch), so she dropped me at the metro and sent me on my way. I rode it for almost an hour to the center of Delhi, where I was jumped on by many men trying to give me sage council and tour me around. How many times does one have to say, “Nay, I’m fine, I know where I’m going. I’m not lost. I don’t need any help. I have to be somewhere. I’m going to meet a friend. No I’m not a tourist. No I’m not American. I live here. Both my parents are Indian and I’m going to meet them for lunch” before they leave you alone. In case you don’t see color, I’m very white, and the fact that I was wearing a bright pink shirt didn’t help me blend in. They smelled tourist on me a mile away. While not as persistent or conniving as Turkish sellers, they did their best to get me to stop and shop at their stands. Nay.
“Where are you from?”
“Philadelphia.”
“Great country, great country!”
I don’t know if they all took the same 3 hour seminar entitled “How to start a conversation with an obvious foreigner 101,” but they all knew. The beginnings of every conversation I had in a half hour period were all exactly the same. Verbatim.
“Where are you from?”
“America”
“Great country. How long have you been in India?”
“A few days.”
“How long are you here for?”
“Three weeks.”
“SHORT TIME!” ……then the conversation would deviate from there, with a lot more “Would you like” from them and a lot more “Nays” from me. It gets old fast.
Although they want you to utilize your services, everyone is very friendly. I roamed through the Palika Bazaar but after deciding I didn’t want to be hassled much more, walked as quickly out of the city center/tourist area as possible. I walked 30 minutes down a road to get to India Gate. Also very touristy, but the people selling goods were much more bearable here, and would go away after only a few nos. I walked around, drew a drawing of the gate while listening to a bunch of Maxxx Flair, took some photos, took some photos for other people, met a couple from LA, some Indian people asked me to be in their photos. Of course I obliged; I was famous for a day.

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Then I came back on the PACKED metro and Apoorva picked me up (what a gal!). She took me to her favorite cafe (which is managed by her absolutely amazing friend Shefali) and had some of the most delicious food I’ve had all trip, and that’s saying something! Shefali, if you ever see this, I love you. That was amazing (The Eyck: Grilled chicken, cheese, peppers, etc., with a “broken brownie” milk shake).

This whole meal (cupcake, hot chocolate/coffee thing, panini, and milkshake cost like $14 USD. Gotta love this country

Then we came home and chilled, went to the market for minced mutton for dinner, which was so good. Apoorva’s cook does amazing things. Minced Mutton with noodles mmmmmmmmmmmmm get at me. That’s about it for a summary so far. Apoorva and her Mom and Nana are outstanding hosts. And I’m not just writing that because she’s gonna read this right after I post it. I’m writing it because I am so grateful for everything they do for me, buying me stuff I tried really hard to pay for, showing me the ropes of Delhi, taking me through the metro without getting pickpocketed, making me food (or having the cook make me food), haggling for me in hindi cause my language skills are not quiiiiiiiiiite at fluent yet, baking banana bread that is DELISH!, calling a plumber to fix the toilet that couldn’t handle 100% grade A certified American shits, taking me to all these amazing places, and even giving me your bed for the time I’m here. I would have been happy with a couch, but I’m living like a king, and it is so very much appreciated!

Thanks a million times over to these two gracious hosts!!!

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Delhi Day One

Originally posted: February 26th, 2014

Chillin in bed after my 1st full Day in India. Some thoughts since I wrote last:

– I miss Dogan’s playlist already…. DMX and Coldplay mixed with traditional Turkish music was solid

– Something else I forgot that was different outside the United States, people carry their babies differently. I saw one lady in the Austian airport curling her baby like a dumbell, with the baby’s head almost hitting the corner of the wall as she rounded a corner, while another man carried his toddler under his arm like a surfboard! YBOLO

– I was in a little meat shop in Gurgaon when a Hindi remix of 50 Cent’s “In da club” came on, and it was awesome

– why is my accent so fickle? I spent 3.5 days with an Aussie and spent the last 2 of them speaking with an australian accent. Wonder what I’ll sound like in tree weeks!

– I’ve watched 3 Bollywood movies in the past week. Bhaag Milkha Bhaag was wonderful. Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani was an amazing film. Loved it! Third, I saw Aashiqui 2, which was amazing but really sad. after watching these, three questions: Why do Bollywood movies make me so emotional? Why are Bollywood movies better than Hollywood movies? Why are the Bollywood actresses so much more desirable than their Hollywood counterparts? Seriously, if going on looks alone, they win. Then you add their unbelievable voices (I really hope they’re not lip syncing). Brb while I pop open a new tab. Ok i’m back, Google tells me they are lip syncing. Scratch that. Bollywood actresses are still gorgeous though. My favorite song was Kabira, or this one from Aashiqui 2- Chahu Main Yaa Naa (the link posted in the original article was taken down for copyright reasons, so here's a link to the song with, incidentally, Turkish subtitles. My travel worlds collide)

– Flying into Delhi at night is cool. The whole city is black and littered with lines of orange and yellow lights. I feel like I’m flying into a volcano. Or Mordor. Pumped.

– Today Apoorva sees me in my t shirt and shorts (for the first time this year) while zipping up her jacket and asks oh my goodness aren’t you cold?!?!  ………………………….Apoorva, it’s 70 degrees out… Where I’m from we don’t put jackets on for this kind of weather

– Also today: Saw a man on the metro wearing a “RICKY MARTIN: LIVE IN INDIA” jacket. Still wondering why I didn’t ask him how many rupees he wanted for it…

– We also went to see the coolest monument ever today, the Qutb Minar. Un. Believable. Plus we had photoshoots because a) it was a breathtaking place, and b) because “like every Indian has had at least  one profile picture taken here.”

Qutb Minar

Qutb Minar

The detail, not only on this minar but the surrounding structures, is raw

The detail, not only on this minar but the surrounding structures, is raw

My mom loves flowers, and we found massive ones. So mom if you still read my blog, this is for you….This is also a test to see if you still read my blog.

My mom loves flowers, and we found massive ones. So mom if you still read my blog, this is for you….This is also a test to see if you still read my blog.

– So much more to talk about (SO MUCH) but I need to sleep. Maybe next time goonies.

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Airport Observations

Originally posted: February 25th, 2014

I had never been kicked awake, to rise from my peaceful albeit uncomfortable slumber and accompanying puddle of drool to open my eyes groggily and find two Bahrainian Airport security personnel standing over me telling me to leave. Now I have. Instead of leaving I made my way halfway around to where they told me to exit and ducked into a stairwell. Now, hours later, I find myself having bought a value meal from Jasmi’s, a cheaper version of McDonalds (even though the USDollar is so weak here it cost more than a trip to the ‘bees does back home). I don’t think they’ve ever had to deal with someone who consumes this much ketchup with a meal before. Two packets with a triple burger and fries? Two packets is like 4 fries. I put ketchup on my ketchup. You gon’ learrrrn today!

-This place is great for people watching. Men seen wearing nothing but towels in the lounge. The man next to me took his suit off and was shirtless before wrapping himself in white linens.

-Also saw a little kid carrying a giant teddy brear through the airport with just his teeth, while holding his mother’s hand with his right hand and picking his nose with his left. Whatever works kid.

-Back in the Istanbul Airport I saw a Canadian Olympian who appeared to be returning from the Sochi games. The name on the mom’s bag said something like Lauren Silvermen…. I’ll look her up later to see if she was worth getting excited about.

-Oh and also in the Istanbul Airport I saw the Azerbaijani Wrestling team. Sized them up… I could take em.

-Also spotted just now, the always awkward speedwalk/run/jog hybrid. I mean, pick one lady. Be confident your plane won’t leave without you and walk. Or realize that your tardy ass needs to get a move on and just run for it. Whatever you do, just own it. I don’t care. Just pick one so you aren’t switching back and forth between walking and running every three seconds and making it uncomfortable for everyone bearing witness.  Or am I the only one?

-It is refreshing, I must say, to be in a place coughnotamericacough where over half the people you see are not obese. I’m sure I could like this place more if I had Arab money, but I’m poor and US dollars do NOT go very far here. Ok so since I’ve arrived in this airport I’ve explored, slept, shook security, changed currency, explored again, ate a meal, drew a picture, and wrote this entry, so now there’s only 14 hours left until my flight takes off…yayyyyy y y y  y    y    y     y         y     y                y                    y
-Woke up for the second time to security standing over me. He did not sound happy but after I showed him my boarding pass he let me be. Got another 2 hours of sleep and there’s only four more hours to wait until I can get on my 6 hour flight. Can’t hold me back world!!!