Hygenic Hong Kong

Hong Kong was a peaceful retreat as we approach our 12 month anniversary of living in India. Coming from Bangalore, Hong Kong was a breeze to navigate, public transportation and trains arrived every two minutes, perfectly manicured parks, clean, street food, pristine public toilets, beaches, hiking. We soaked in a dreamy oasis in a big city of for lack of better words, organization and logic.

Bangalore sometimes seems to defy logic in my brain-especially when it relates to hygiene and pollution, and lack of earth conservation. Some people say there is so much pollution due to the high levels of population in the city. However, there are 8 million people in Bangalore compared to HK’s 7 million, so that doesn’t necessarily cut the pickle for me. Certainly, accessibility, money and government play a huge role. But, let’s be honest- sometimes it is matter of caring and picking up our own refuse.  

To be fair, local grocers seem to do their part in reducing plastic by asking customers to bring in their own tote bags, charging an additional 3 rupees perplastic carry bag needed. However, I leave the grocery store to see chai plastic cups strew across the ground.  Adam and I have started our own recycling here of separating our plastics and glass. Guys come around with huge canvas bags and collect the plastic to bring in for a refund. I guess we think we are saving them a little more time and revenue of less searching through the trash piles for the bottles. We have also seen ladies walk up to our dropped off bag of plastic water bottles and take them for their own use. I suppose the reuse pattern of recycling is followed. Not sure of how sanitary these practices are, however.

Bangaloreans take great care of their appearance, and gorgeous hair. However, one aggravating thing I have noticed is how often some folks clean out their systems in public. I am not just saying peeing in public, which is all too common. It appears there is a motivation to clear out anything in the nostrils or throat as well. Morning walks in the park prove to be followed by guttural sounds of executing routine practices of coughing up and sniffing out mucus.

Lack of hand washing with soap is another issue. It is common to find hand washing stations post meals, but what about before? Or post bathroom use? Really, now I do see the reason it is considered unclean to shake with the left hand. It is.

On to Hong Kong. We spent four days here soaking in the sanitation practices. No stray dogs. But perfectly groomed pets abound. (Suppose one could argue sanitation issues arising of having your pet poodle next to you in the restaurant booth which we did see) Pigeons weren’t even around too much, because they are not allowed to be fed. Fined on the spot if found feeding. 150 hkd.

Signage abounded to prevent public littering of all sorts. Spittle? 1500 hkd fine. Leaving your pet dog do do on the street? 1500 hkd fine. Littering trash? 1500 hkd fine. Signage in every bathroom showed how to properly wash hands, clean the toilet using provided disinfectants, and more.

Okay, so seeing superb hygiene and order isn’t the only reason I came to love Hong Kong. I loved the people, the international representation, the energy, hustle and bustle of the city, being welcomed to join in a tai chi class, public green spaces, Chinese green tea, beaches, the food. OMG, the amazing dining options! I am not bitter about my life here in India, but it is clearly a constant matter of severe distaste,  the lack of hygiene in food prep, especially in dining out whether it be a street vendor or 5 star hotel.

But back to reality of India. If you’ve hung on this far in my ranting post, the fact is that sometimes the grass is greener on the other side. Literally, it is greener on HK’s side! J A few days upon our return, I sat in our surprisingly clean and very efficient single line metro headed to Indiranagar in Bangalore. To enter my own Bangalore oasis- yoga. The yoga house- an amazing yoga facility I have been coming to for a few months now. And, I was feeling a bit homesick, or hong kong sick, I couldn’t tell. I thought to myself, “how have I lasted 12 months here?” As India always does, as soon as I think one thing, a contradiction is thrown into my view- I looked out the window to a sunset, a rooftop, albeit dirty, to see a mother in her colorful sari, holding her child up high into the air, with laughter and love abound. And I think to myself, in the words of the great Satchmo, “what a wonderful world.”

doggie do do stations.

T'ai Chi.



That's almost 200.00 usd.

All smiles from a hike to the peak.

enough said.



seriously?

Chinese tea house and dim sum.

Beautiful Lamma Island beach. Not a bottle in sight.



A welcome change to Kingfisher.

kimchee pancake and green juice.

night views from ferry.



 

 

Save Adam!

Just over two weeks ago I came down with a bit of a fever. After attempting to fight it off for a few days, it got worse and I was instructed by my lovely wife that we were going into the doctor...now! A conversation with a local medical doctor and an official blood test and there you have it, I was the lucky recipient of Dengue Fever. An infectious tropical disease caught only by none other than our favorite, the mosquito.


After a long weekend of this crazy tropical fever and not much more movement than from the bed to the couch, I started to come back to life. Slowly the fever subsided and the other symptoms went away. Then, after a several days of feeling like I had narcolepsy, I was back to normal! It took a second weekend of rest to be fully back with it.




The most amazing thing I came to realize, is when you have Dengue, word spreads. I was greeted by the construction guy at our building asking how my health was. Our British neighbors stopped by with some carrots, chocolate and tea; wishing me well. Colleague after colleague at work came up to me or checked in with me to see how I was doing. Friends and family back home checked in via Facebook or email. 



But the kicker was when I was at lunch today. A few people stopped by the table welcoming me back, I found out the President of Target India asked how I was doing and then someone walked by and gave me the double pointer finger gun saying "It's good to have you back". Just prior to lunch I had a conversation with another colleague who mentioned "I'm so glad you are still with us." Needless to say, the support was unbelievable.


However, I began to feel like I transported to 1986, on the movie set of Ferris Bueller's Day off where a campaign was started to "Save Ferris" due to his fake sickness, but in this case it was "Save Adam" and the Dengue was all too real! I looked up and found out there is actually a 5% mortality rate from this thing. Holy crap! A prominent Bollywood film director fell victim this past weekend. Well folks, I live to write about this and I am continuing to round out the true experience of India. Here's to Dengue and here's to life. Save Adam!

 

Bundh

Today was a snow day in Bangalore. Well, not really, but it was the equivalent to our snow days in Minnesota. It was a Bundh (or strike) day. In the state of Karnataka, a bundh was called by various organizations in opposition of the direction of Karnataka to release 9,000 cu sec of River Cauvery water everyday to neighboring state, Tamil Nadu.

When a strike occurs in Bangalore, the whole city shuts down. Every store closes. The streets become deserted. It was the strangest phenomenon  Silence. In a city of 8.5 million that never stops, people remained quarantined to their homes. 

For Adam, it meant eyes glued to his computer and three cell phones all day, making sure Target India crisis plans were in place. In the afternoon, we walked around the block to take it in. No rickshaws. no trucks. no horns. Even the  street dogs must have gotten the message. Ahhh, Peace. I guess this is another Bangalore paradox. Paradox or Irony? Alanis, can you help me out? Usually a strike includes violent protest, throwing rocks, and burning buses (thank goodness, it seems things were overall fairly safe). In reality, it was the most peaceful day I have experienced in Bangalore. 


The irony didn't come from rain on a wedding day, which would be just unfortunate, really.  But, situational irony did exist today on our walk. The skies opened up and it rained. It poured. The strike was against sharing water with their neighboring state, due to less rain this monsoon season. However, God provided with abundant water today and probably drenched a few protesters.

Peace on this Bundh day. 

Lavelle Road- empty.

Normally sheer chaos.

Karnataka state flag, to show support. 

And the rains came... Could of used an arc to get back home.

fight or flight on a bike in the night in Cubbon Park

Adam and I have been back one week in Bangalore from taking a three week escapade to Europe, Africa and the U.S. Actually, one week vacay for Adam and I. Two weeks of work for the hubby. For me, relishing in two weeks of rejuvenation in the fall bliss of Minnesota. Taking long walks around the lakes with Dosh, eating at the favorite ol’ hangouts, coffees and lunches with friends, weddings and receptions, grandparent visits and more. Oh, how I now miss and crave for my daily luxuries of  kombucha, farmers markets, lakes...

Anyways, I digress. Back to Bangalore. Awakened to sounds of 24 hr construction of this silicon city, smells of piling garbage, horns, diesel, crowded traffic. Do I miss my home in Minnesota? Absolutely.  Do I wish I were still there? The answer is a surprising no. Despite the craziness of Bangalore, the life outshine here. As quoted from The Marigold Hotel (which by the way is rather spot on to life here in Bangalore) the character of Grahm states after being asked, “What do you see here that I don’t?” and he responds, ‘The lights, the colors, the smiles. It teaches me something.”

Certainly it has taught me something. These are the things that matter. Traffic, we can wait in it. The construction noise? Put on some streaming MPR. The garbage and pollution? Ok, maybe too far. That isn’t so fun. But all the life and light and smiles of all the people, all of India’s many lessons; This is how I am sustained here.

But what happens when it is still night and we venture out into it? More lessons, if not a possible needs for a tetanus shot or loss of a leg… This morning, Adam and I both awoke wide awake at 4:00 am. Our jet lag continues to taunt us. Instead of fight it, we got up and I had another brilliant idea. Let’s try biking again. Really, Lori? Did it really work so well the first time?

Yes, well, no, but this is different. It is before dawn. There won’t be cars. The park will be free of people and traffic, we can cruise to our hearts content. Um. No.  We bravely made our way in the dim light to the park- no problem. As we determined our route, we found that more people were walking at this time of day than expected. Plus, we discovered traffic does not let up outside the park, so we were left with cycling in a 2 mile perimeter. Not exactly Minneapolis trails, here folks.

And what is the one important factor that I left out about biking at 5am? DOGS. Apparently, before dawn, India streets are a dog’s domain. Don’t mess. We began on a fairly open stretch of pavement and I began to speed up, feeling a baby rush of biking again outdoors. No sooner did I speed up that I passed five sleeping stray dogs. Normally, when passing on foot or jogging they remain asleep. But, they were not use to a single lamp and swishing of my bike tires in the night. They began to surround and chase me, bare their teeth, bark and move closer and closer to my pumping ankles. All I could think to do was bark back and keep biking. I barked, “NO! NO! NO! NO!” over and over again, until they let up. Upon their dismissal and boredom of scaring the living life that I appreciate here out of me, I turn around to see my husband who had been a bit behind me and had not yet passed the dogs. The dogs were settled down again and curled up for a nap, while Adam slowly walked his bike up to join me.

He said, “Wow. That was scary!” Really, Babe? You were scared? You were so gallant and brave to come save me or scare away the dogs yourself? Thanks for your manly protection? Just climb off your bike and walk your bike, while my leg is being chewed off. Really, I am fine. Thanks,love. Love you too. Now I know how you respond to a life or death situation. Save yourself. Sure.

I tell this parable not to toss my husband under the bus (like he did me!) or to ridicule my husband for his own self sacrifice, but really as a lesson on stress. As in previous posts, I like to reflect on stress as I think it is something every American faces more often than most, and yet it is not discussed as being a major cause to a lot of distress in our life.

This morning I really did fight and flight as a response to an immediate stressor. But what about the times, when we are faced with an internal stressor that we cannot get up and run from? As we sit in a meeting? Mis-communicate with our partner? When the stress remains subconsciously tucked away? What happens when stress sits and we can’t fight or flight? The stress festers. Dis-ease and disease happen.

I am currently taking an online graduate course on Integrative Health and Healing through the University of Minnesota. So far in all of the ancient traditional healing forms we have studied there is a focus on stress being a major cause of disease. In Chinese Medicine, our “Qi” or energy flow is often blocked in certain parts of our body due to stress. This blockage can cause and lead to many forms of disease (in my case digestive and chronic headaches). So then what?

In the past few weeks, I have gained knowledge on coping with stress from wise souls in India and in the U.S. My yoga teacher, Devenand, shared with us that stress in itself is not so much stressful, but it is our perception of stress that causes our discontention within ourselves. How can we prevent stress? We can’t in some regards, i.e. the chasing dogs, but as Davenand says we can “expect and the accept” that stress is a part of our lives. This doesn’t mean living in anticipation of the negative to occur, but it does we accept the ups and downs that are inevitable.  We can create a space for them.

For me, my headaches came about from not expecting or accepting the stress. I thought it was worth it to try and have control and perfect situations. Fat chance of that happening in Bangalore, let me tell ya. In India, women often cook with pressure cookers-A cooking vessel with a tight lid and whistle top. When the water is sufficiently boiled the whistle top blows off. This is what stress is like. We have a certain threshold and amount we can take before we blow. This is followed by suffering in physical, spiritual or mental illness.

I think in India, there is a difference in stressors in the fact that stressors appear more obvious. In the U.S. in many of our lives, we don’t anticipate the traffic to come to a halt on our morning commute. In Bangalore, there appears to be fewer accidents because the crazy drivers making up their own rules are expected and accepted. Traffic is a part of everyday life, so how can we get stressed about it?

In the U.S. I find myself blessed with a life that flows fairly “free”: of traffic: good jobs, good friends, lovely home, amazing nature, etc. But yet, stress was often self created in the world of the “shoulds.” Here in Bangalore, Adam and I sometimes take the full weekend to do nothing. Nothing. To do nothing is something, I think. At home, five minutes would go by on a Sunday morning, and guilt would overcome us to go to church, or the farmer’s market, to Target, or the “shoulds”. We should do this. We should do that. I mentioned this to our friend Matt at dinner when we were home in Minneapolis. He spoke words I won’t forget. He said, “Should” doesn’t need to be in the picture. If you want to do something or need to something, then do it. Otherwise, forget it.  “Shoulds” just continue the stress cycle.

Loving Being Home in the U.S.A.

Next time I ‘should’ know better than to cycle at 5am amidst packs of street dogs. But, even if I don’t make this same mistake twice, I am pretty sure India will throw another stress ball my way. I will expect and accept it with all my heart. I can say this confidently in the light of the day anyways.

Himalayan Recharge

In late July, Lori and I had a chance to take a week long trek through the Himalayas.  We flew into the city of Leh in the Ladakh region of North India on a Saturday morning and from there I kept a 'micro journal' - one word and one photo to accompany each day.

Day 1 - Rest



A view from our Guesthouse in Leh

Recently someone at work mentioned the importance of "taking rest when your body is tired".  As logical as this concept is, I do not think it is often followed as much as it should be.  Especially from a western lifestyle perspective. I started this trip exhausted and was looking forward to doing exactly what my body was asking for - rest.

Day 2 - Spiritual



Leh Palace (Buddhist Temple behind to the right)

In the city of Leh, there are many Tibetan refugees. The majority of the population is Buddhist (nearly 80%) and there is a strong spiritual energy throughout the town.  Many prayer flags line the streets, a temple sits at the top of town overlooking the valley and in general a it is a very warm and welcoming culture.  Lori and I took the second day of our trip to continue acclimating to the altitude of  over 3500 meters (this is compared to the less than 1000 meters of Bangalore and less than 300 meters of Minneapolis).  We walked around the town and took a 'day trek' up to the temple which sits on top of the town, showcasing the best view of the city.

Day 3 - Explore



Rested and ready to go!

Ahhhh.  Two days of rest and fully (or close to) acclimated to 3500+ meters.  Lets do this Himalayas, bring it.  Lori and I were packed up and ready at 6:30 a.m. to take on a 5 day trek through the Markha Valley.

Day 4 - Determination



Attempting to capture the beauty of Markha Valley

Yes, even one day into the trek, Lori and I needed to reach deep down and find our determined spirits.  It doesn't take too much for us to do that, we can both be stubborn and determined people.  I think that is what we love about each other and what can drive us crazy. Two perfectionists in a pod.  We had a crew (with ponies) to carry our stuff and a guide to lead the way. All we basically needed to do was walk - and yet, we still had our work cut out for us.  High elevation, various weather climates and a difficult and rocky terrain.

Day 5 - Light


Look real close to see a house with a view (top left peak)

On the fifth day of our trip, Lori and I were getting a bit tired and run down. This trek was known as a 'moderate to challenging' level of difficulty. And challenging it was at times. Nonetheless, we kept moving. One thing that helped me were the countless photo ops.  Everything was incredibly picturesque.  By focusing on capturing the breathtaking views through taking photos, I was able to keep my mind away from the physical challenges of the trek itself.  Lori and I recently took a photo class with some friends in Bangalore. We learned the basics of the camera, how to stay away from flash/auto settings and how good light helped in taking great photographs.  We were lucky to have great views and amazing light each day.

Day 6 - Sight

Glacier Reflection

Another long day of trekking...we were averaging about 8-9 hours per day by this point.  As mentioned, the photography was a huge help in preoccupying my mind versus thinking of being tired or weak.  Another game I started to play was pretending we were in the Olympics (Lori was not a fan of this one).  We had met some great people, from around the world - France, Austria, Slovenia  and England.  I quickly found out, the French are amazing trekkers. Somehow, each day (no matter how early us eager Americans left camp) the French would come in first.  I wanted to take my time, enjoy the views and not push it too hard. But I also wanted to win.  I mean, come on, its the gold at stake here!

Day 7 - Finish

I'm still waiting for the Olympic Committee to send us our Gold Medal

The second to last day of the trek, we were scheduled to reach the summit.  5130 meters.  Lori and I were tired, but we were feeling fairly good.  We were the first to leave camp and made a great start.  Our goal was to take our time.  We didn't want to push it too hard and we had all day to accomplish our goal of reaching the top.  In all seriousness, we were not trying to 'win' however I did start to realize we were not being passed up, even by those speedy French.  By the time the peak was in sight, I started to realize what may happen.  The gold may be ours.  And it was.  A freezing cold victory.

Day 8 - Home

Relax and recharge complete.

I love to get away and disconnect. I don't wear a watch, I shut off all technology and fully reset and recharge.  Its a great way to clear my mind and refresh.  However, even after a great vacation; a week on a beach, a week in the mountains, wherever or whatever it is; its great to return home.

Unrequited Taste Buds

So here it is. One of peoples’ favorite things to twitter, instagram, pin,and FB about is food. For the most part, I have yet to do so. Perhaps out of fear of needless complaining over the world wide web. I will leave out all names to protect my fellow Bangalorean chefs and restaurant owners. Just a few anecdotes on the Bangalore food scene.

Self admitting, I am a bit a of a picky eater. (I know, a bit is an understatement, mom and dad!) I have been since childhood. In the glorious days of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s when travelling on family road trips (the back seat clearly divided with a pillow between my sister and I after fighting over the viewfinder), we would do what every American family does. Eat not at, but through a McDonald’s drive-thru. At my pre-foodie stage in life, I would refuse everything on the menu except 2 or 3 hashbrowns (more if monopoly game cards were on it), a small orange pop, and occasionally if feeling daring I would ask for a plain biscuit with honey. Ok, nasty.

Now at 28, I continue to be picky, but McDonald’s is not a word in my vocabulary. Pickiness moved into health conscious. I choose to fill my palate with what some may deem “hippy-esque” in nature. Local, organic, healthy, lots of green stuff. Not sure where this transition occurred, but over time it is what feels good to every sense in my being.

Living in Bangalore means I need to compromise some desires. As the saying goes,When in Rome…stay in Rome and eat good pizza, dammit! Generally speaking, the best food I have eaten out in Bangalore, is local cuisine. Dosas, idyll, sambar, rice, dal, roti. I have even found one, self proclaimed organic local veg. joint to appreciate. My favorite meal to make for myself for lunch is red rice, green gram dal, steamed veggies or salad, an indian pickle and a homemade greek goddess dressing. (Perhaps I will post my favorite tweaked South Indian recipes for my fellow foodies, soon!)

However, some days you need a break from Indian. I love to cook other meals at home, but washing all the vegetable and preparation takes ages, much less being able to find all the ingredients at one store, or any stores. One day, rice vineagar is available, one day its gone. You see frenzied ex-pat women stocking up on imported food items such as buffalo mozzarella and Oreos like it is the return of Tickle-Me- Elmo at Christmas time. For me, I rock my "super market sweep" strategies when I find arugula or mustard greens! It does make it like a treasure hunt and make that evenings meal more appreciated.

So that brings us to eating out- and to be frankly pessimistic, finding a favorite spot is like searching for the diamond in the rough. Everything is sub-par in my opinion. Most recently, I have be yearning for my Minneapolis stomping grounds. Especially after coming back from our trek in the Himalayas in not-so-cleanly-desirable conditions. (I will spare the nitty gritty, but lets just say the nitty gritty found its way into my bowl a few times).On the airplane ride home,  I painfully reminisced how within a short bike ride or drive from our 3732 home, I could be chowing down on a “grass-fed” gyro from Gardens of Salonica or at Wise Acres savoring organically raised/grown something or rather. Or organic pizza at Luce’s, or a turkey burger at Birchwood, or Sea Salt or Seward or Lucia’s or trying out Butcher and the Boar or…..or or or or or ! Aghhhh! I cannot wait to come home in a few weeks and savor a Wedge fresh juice that is not made with contaminated water and with fruit seeped in pesticidal chemicals.

Ok, sidetrack rant. When entering any restaurant in Bangalore often deemed “Continental Cuisine," you are seated and handed a bible of a menu, which lists their specialties of Chinese, Tex-Mex, Leb-Mex, Mexican, Vietenamese, Italian and the obligatory North and South Indian cuisine. Sorry, but I don’t know of one restaurant that succeeds at all 108 menu items. In addition, they might as well not describe what’s in it, cause most the time you are left with what’s not in it.

But I have gotten ahead of myself- first beverages. On innumerable times, I am handed a hefty wine list. My eyes peruse the extensive tasting notes and my mouth begins to water. Why do I always fall into the same trap? I say to the waiter, “which rose’ do you recommend?” The response is, “sorry m’am we are all out of Roses.” Okay, which Sauvignon Blanc (out of the 5 on the menu) is available? Which is ofen followed by “Ma’m we have the Sula Chardonnay” I am slowly learning to be satisftied with ordering a “glass of white.” That's the other thing though about dining out, it isn’t really worth it to drink that less than satisfactory glass, because it costs more than your app, dinner and dessert combined for two people. Guess that's where you can eat local for 50 rps. all you can eat buffet ($1) versus the $10 splurge for one glass of vinegary vino.

Onto a food story. My favorite is most recent. We enter a new chic restaurant in our neighborhood. Ambience is amazing, except the music is so loud it is suitable for the club or a rave versus a dimly lit French café. That aside I open the menu and I see it. The craving is so strong. I have been mostly veg for 7 months with the occasional bacon allowance. And now, my vision narrows to one thing only-a pulled pork sandwhich. Ah, what I would give for succulent bbq pulled pork! So forgetting where I am, I order it. The Salad beforehand is a huge success actually- when I ask for dressing on the side, it is actually on the side and not a dressed salad with additional dressing on the side. And it is actually green, not a side of tomatoes with cumin on it, not iceberg, but the real deal. So my expectations remain high. Lesson no. 1, when dining out, keep your expectations low and you may be pleasantly surprised. When delivering the sandwich, they proudly state that they have achieved my dairy free wishes on the sandwich, no cheese, no butter, no milk. The cow is holy but cow products aside from beef reign over every dish. (and typically, if I say no dairy, they serve something covered with cream.)

So back to the pork. Or not. I take one bite. Huh? I lift the bun. Um, yeaaahh.. so it appears to be the other white meat-chicken? In a white mayonnaise sauce with a fried egg, and a few measly pieces of bacon. So, calmly I say to the waiter- I think I may have the wrong sandwich. He regards the sandwhich and says, “no, mam, that is the pulled pork sandwich. See it has bacon on it?” Yes. bacon is the "same, same" to pulled pork. check. literally, check please.

So, aside from food rants, I am learning once again to go more with the flow. And simply relishing in a few gems I have found here. And tipping like crazy when I get a correct order.

My favorite beverage mishap came a few days later. I go into a coffee shop and I see mint tea on the menu. I ask the waiter, is the mint tea with black tea? As I learned that most beverages are caffeinated, which I like to avoid. He said yes, but assured me that he could serve it with just mint and hot water. I was wary when he handed over the cup with tinfoil on the top for takeaway. He said, just confirming "you wanted only mint and only hot water, correct" I smiled and said, “YES!” that is correct! I was so excited it was not a bout of rig a morale in ordering and he was happy to get exactly what I asked for. I get in the car and wait for the hot water to cool before removing the foil. Once I do,I smell a something pecularily like “Aquafresh”.  I peer over the cup and see electric green liquid.  I did not taste it to find out, but I assume it was crème de menth syrup in hot water. Delicioso!Boun Appetito!

Or as I learned to say in Hindi "mai naheen katti"- or "I don't eat that."

Gorgeous and tasty tandori bread rolls

It is like being served a punch pizza crust just to snack on. India rocks tandoori roti 

How our eggs traveled for 5 days on our Himalayan trek. The donkey was egg-stra careful with the load.

Any tea tastes good with this view.

But sometimes you just need the real thing. 

Derby Doo- Wop

This past weekend Adam and I attended the Kingfisher Bangalore Derby.  Apparently this was the place to be as it is one of the biggest horse races to occur in India. I kind of wanted to tell people to get off their high horse, forget who's who and just enjoy the day. This was not only our first derby in India, but our first horse race ever.

All the newspapers stated this is the event for glamour, glitz and fashionistas and a bit of sportsmanship as well. But as usual, India Times in Bangalore chose to highlight the ladies before the horses. hmmm. What do you mean news writer by "fashionista?" Is this a formal affair? Or do I go funky? Do I wear a sari? Ack. Sometimes it would be easier if women could just wear suits and ties..'tis not fair. Here I faced yet another of many clothing dilemmas for what is socially acceptable to wear in Bangalore.On one hand, bare shoulders and knees are a big' no- no' but out in the Bangalore fashion world, it is skimpy skimpy skimpy, believe it or not! That is straight from the horses mouth! When we arrived, I was shocked at all the minis, tight tops and matched with large derby hats. I wasn't aware that fashionista meant lots of skin exposed. Funny how at home, I wouldn't blink an eye but here I was like, wow. come on ladies. we are in India. The times they are a changin, but not so fast. Whoa, Nelly!

Well I think I survived the first challenge of the day in my my simple, chic, brown polka dot dress and derby hat. I did feel a bit like Julia Roberts, in Pretty Woman:) That's what I was going for anyways!

Second challenge, fighting through mobs of Indian men, trying to get to the bidding counter. Unfortunatley I encountered  a fellow who was not so Richard Gere. Let's just say he thought it appropriate to take a hold of my behind and give it a squeeze. All I could think to say was, "HEY!" very loudly, as he looked the other way. Why is it when we want to react with a good line or comment in our midst of anger or frustration, we stutter....and say something lame. I wish I had thrown in a bit of hindi that I am learning here. When I shared this with Imran, he said I should have done what other Indian women do, which is apparently to take off you chappal or slipper ( i.e. sandal)and start hitting the guy. Hmmm. I think I like my sandals too much...But the idea was momentarily appealing.

Not sure what was at a higher stake, the large jackpot, or who was best dressed? However, it is quite a thrill to bet on a horse. I lay down a big ol' 100 rps. (i.e. two dollars) and lost. No harm done. Adam took a bigger risk at 250 rps. on horse #1 and wouldn't you know, he won? It was a 10 to 1 payout. 2500 rupees baby! Somebody is going to buy me one helluva dosa!

Overall there was a lot of ruckous and cacaphony. I think the horses were looking at us thinking, hold your horses people! Men and women exclaiming together in joy and despair for their horses, winning and losing. I thought to myself, "If you can't beat em join em. Half the time I was shouting along just for the joy of being able to yell and hoot and holler.. not even sure who I was cheering for. I am just happy to be celebrating this exhiliarating life with my Italian Stalion and friends in Bangalore.

P.S. Horse puns definetly intended. Ride on!

Fashion forward?

introducing the race

jokey

ah, sweet

derby, kingfisher beer style!

hitchin a ride

A Priceless Paradox

Adam and I recently visited our good friend, Chuck, in Thailand. Ah, Amazing Thailand. We adored Chiang Mai. It helped to have Chuck show us the ins and outs of where he has lived for the past three years. It truly is a mystical place- Buddhist monasteries and temples, funky markets, delicious Thai cuisine, friendly people, clean. Lovely.


On our way to Sukothai, an early Thai Kingdom in North Central Thailand, Chuck asked, "How do you like living in India?" I usually respond saying, I love it. Why? I don't actually know... Usually my response is a bit of incoherent reasoning followed by examples of why most people would want stay far away from India. Strange.


How can we describe such a place as India? To be frank, how can one describe India without complaining? Without describing the ugly as well as the beautiful? Can India be described with just words? Every time I open my mouth to say one thing, the opposite opinion comes to my brain as well. I  am often left feeling like I haven't said what I want to say about living here, nor do I know how to say it. India defies a definition. It defies reason. humph. I am often left stumped. After living in India for seven months, the only thing I know for certain about life is life's uncertainty. This is true anywhere you live, but India somehow makes this uncertainty more certain. Confused? Welcome to the Bangalore life-a paradoxical world.

In an attempt to explain, a few examples of this paradoxical Bangalorean life comes to mind.
First of all, it is clear that we live in a developing third world country. It is a world of  poor but rich in spirit as well as poor lost souls and their loaded pocket books. Slums are set up outside Technology Parks. Turn a street corner and you find upper and middle class shoppers in India's "first luxury shopping mall" with stores like Louis Vuitton and Burberry. Intermingled in traffic with motorized and man-motored rickshaws you find shiny Beemers and Land Rovers. A delicious meal of dosa and chai can be found for the equivalent of 75 cents and yet dinner at the Taj can cost upwards to $50.00 per person.

We live in  the Silicon Valley of India, booming in technology and yet some of the most primitive ways and approaches are applied. Construction sites are built with basic hand tools and rely on exorbitant amount of man power. We get our clothes ironed outside by a street vendor who builds a fire on the street, lighting charcoal and filling a heavy cast iron. Oxen and cart are not an uncommon site on a major thorough fare (however you will be sure to see that its driver is sms'ing on his way). Newspaper is used for window washing. Recycling is hand sorted through piles of trash collected on the street. 


With all the advanced IT operations and major western influences here, it appears at times that Bangalore is still catching up to things such as pop culture and home economics. Music from the American 90's is mainstream: Oasis, Coldplay, Alanis to name a few. In the Times of India, I just read an article touting the benefits of electric stoves, claiming they are new and improved versions of gas stoves (all the rage of the 1940s and 50s in the U.S.A.)

Women here are quite conservative in their dress and behavior. Religious traditions and rich cultures often mean particular attire and behavior. Wearing sleeveless tops or shorts become risque or a fashion statement. Yet, open up the Bangalore Times and see photos of women that look like they were edited by Hugh Hefner himself. I even found huge stacks of "Fifty Shades of Grey" lining a bookshelf at my favorite small bookshop. (Not that I bought it or anything...)

A few more examples. It happens often when I am walking and I think, mmmm that smells so good, like corn being roasted. Before I can say the words out loud however, I gag by the smell of pee or some other form of only God knows what is rotting on the street. On a Sunday, I may say, wow it feels so peaceful out, no sooner does a car drive by at dangerously close proximity, choosing the perfect time to honk so loudly we jump out of our skins.

The Indian Family unit is oriented to be quite communal. Your house extends beyond siblings and parents and includes grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. But, the communal giving and sharing altogether stop when it comes to waiting in line for the bathroom, the pharmacy, the airport, the grocery store, you name it. It is all about the individual. A do or die motion to be next in line. Do you really need to use your elbows?

As mentioned numerous time in previous blog posts, traffic and congestion and over stimulation reign here. Yet, it remains chill. People do not rush. You rarely see accidents.Traffic flows. So do the people.

So how is it that I am finding peace when my head is often left spinning from my paradoxical home here? I hate the trash, the smells, the congestion, the traffic, the poor stray dogs, the stares and always having to practice patience. Sometimes I just want to have my cake and eat it too. But India is most endearing in an inexplicable way. I wouldn't change this experience for the world. The lessons I am receiving are not always clear and only time will tell. One thing is for certain. Life is not perfect. As a wise Swami I recently heard speak said, "Change is inevitable." My Grandma, so wise herself, recently mentioned, "It's just a part of life- you gotta take the good with the bad."

On days and moments when I am not so in love with India, I just think to myself-I may not understand this paradoxical life, but just keep moving, flowing. You don't change India. It changes you.

Photos from our retreat to Thailand:

Adam, Meena, Lori and Chuck

Wise Buddha.

Funky Amphibian

Mystical Soap

Clean and Lovely Sights.

Sushi from a street vendor? Who knew??? mmm..good.

BFFs.

Serene Falls.

crazy. city. cycling.

 I take full credit for a bad idea. A $10.00 death wish. I had been staring longingly at my road bike that sits on its trainer in the middle of my living room. I close my eyes and imagine myself biking along Minnehaha River in the middle of a Minnesota Summer with a pit stop for fish tacos with a fresh lime squeezed on amazing raw oysters with oh so delicious sriacha sauce at Sea Salt, and taking sips from Adam's local brew.
But wait...wake up... "I am in Bangalore. I can't bike here outside. Or can I"? I sign up for a local biking online digest and discover low and behold an organized, biking event called "Go Cycling, Go Green." I thought, my two favorite things- awesome. I close my eyes and imagine Adam and I cruising amongst quaint villages and hidden nature nooks and crannies of India.

But wait again... this is Bangalore. Not exactly biking in say the south of France. But actually this last thought didn't register with me whatsoever. (not unti la bit too late, anyways) What I did think was wow, 10 bucks for breakfast, lunch, fully supported ride, stops, and swimming at a resort mid-way and a t-shirt?  um yeah! Totally, sign me up!

So. Here we begin. It is a 5:00 am wake up call. Water bottles? check. Helmets? Of course (one safety measure we can assure ourselves of on looking back) Adam and I look up the starting point on google maps. Needless to say, don't look up direction on google maps in Bangalore. We get lost. Biking downtown amongst one ways and early morning vendors and trucks. But, we arrive at our starting point at 7:00am. phew.

We are pumped. Lots of thrifty hipster Indians and their bikes, mostly mountain bikes and no helmets. Great dosa and idly breakfast of champions and we are off. Well sort of. By now, it is 8am and traffic is in full swing. We are going to do this how exactly? Immediately faced by honking and crazy streets, not side streets mind you. Straight down MG Road- the busiest in Bangalore. Watch out for the cow $#*& and wow, the cow too. Oookaaay....Stubborn gal that I am., I convince my dear hubby that we can do this.

We proceed to stop and go, stop and go, going between 5km-20km an hour. Which is great actually, a relief seeing because the roads, when paved, were strewn with rubbish and potholes. Now I see why all the other folks have mountain bikes. We are amongst 70 bikers, and it truly felt like survival of the fittest on this extreme biking tour. The entire route was lost amongst the pilot coordinator in the jeep ahead of us. I guess I get my wish to visit a quaint yet bustling village afterall. So, we made our way through bustling narrow streets, attempting to avoid street carpet and fruit vendors, beggars, rocks, buses, trucks and motor bikes. Because, honestly this is not the states- no one will pause or stop for you nor go around you. They will go straight through you if need be.

At utter point of over stimulation however, we reached our first pit stop- a glorious reprieve as we sip coconut water from a guy with his rickshaw in abundance of coconuts for us. A nice break in the rising heat and smouldering diesel fumes we had inhaled along the way.

Finally, for the last 8km of our 42km journey, the lanes of traffic became greater and we had some space and room to bike. Never mind  to say, it was a highway! A welcome change as we cruised on paved roads and rode our sweaty selves to our destination. a nice resort with a pool.

Well, some may say we are cowards for quitting at this point. Some will say we were stupid to even try. We packed up our bikes into our Toyata Innova and came home- Thank you, Imran!- not making the return trek. Exhausted from sensory overload more than the biking.

I thought walking down the street here was sensory overload! Ha- it is all a matter of perspective, I suppose. Before leaving the U.S. I got overstimulated walking in a Twins crowd at Target Field. Look at me now! Move over, Bangalore, a brave chick and handsome hubby conquered your streets!

Go green or go home. Next time, I think I will just stay home for this one!

All smiles. This was just the beginning...

Still smiling, so far so good.

A smile or gritting my teeth?

ah. coconut water. nature's cure.

Biking with famous Bollwood radio station d.j.

A much needed Kingfisher.

Our beloved bikes that took a beating from Bangalore streets.

A bit of a crowded pickup truck on the way home from ride.